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falling-endlessly · 3 months

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Boomerang (part 3)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: Your infuriating ex is planning something, and it's putting everyone on edge. But if he wants at the hotel, he'll have to go through you (and Alastor) first.

<— Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

—6 HOURS AGO—

"What," Valentino growled, claws creating cracks in the table from how hard he was gripping it. "The fuck did you just say?"

Velvette was no better. Her lip was pulled into a furious snarl, and for once her phone was nowhere to be seen. "Vox, are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Relax," Vox reclined in his chair, raising a brow at his murderous business partners. Velvette's eye twitched and the table creaked in protest under Valentino's fury. "I'm not actually going for redemption, damn, calm your tits people."

"What happened to keeping up an image for the brand?" Velvette banged a fist against her armrest, gritting her teeth. "The Morningstar bitch was literally humiliated on live television, and now you're going to personally advertise for her?!"

"The next extermination is coming sooner than ever, and people are getting desperate. This little publicity stunt can work in our favor," Vox crossed his claws under his chin, megawatt smile growing. "What's a little pity pitch going to hurt? Think about it, I can gather intel, fuck up Alastor's little project, and show Y/n where her allegiances should lie. Win-win-win," he chuckled ominously.

"Cut the shit, Vox," Valentino scoffed, leaning forward to sneer in his face. "It's obvious you're only going this far for that bitch. Can't keep a leash on your toys, hm?"

Vox grit his teeth, digging his claws into his thighs under the table. He knew this wasn't going to go over well, but to be talked down to by someone who was benefiting from him? "So what if I am?" He hid his rage with a large, mocking grin. "And by the way, where's Angel Dust? Haven't seen him around in a while."

Val's face twisted with rage. "You fucking—"

"Enough!" Velvette snapped, glaring at both of them. "I don't have time for this stupid shit. Get on with it or this meeting is over."

Vox's unhinged smile slowly relaxed into his charming PR one. "Of course, my apologies Velvette, Val. I can see why you're not...convinced yet. Let me fix that."

The projector on the wall suddenly sparked to life, displaying three pie charts and a legend with many colorful categories. He gestured to them from left to right. "This is a distribution of our profits from ten years ago, five years ago, and last year."

"We have eyes," Velvette droned boredly.

Vox's antennae sparked in irritation, but he continued regardless. "Y/n's helped develop countless programs and softwares, and with her expertise our earnings jumped thirty seven percent, especially during the collaboration between Voxtek and DeepSpace VR. Now, what happens now that she's taken her business elsewhere? Hell knows she has the computing power to run it without our servers—"

"So, we're supposed to just bend over backwards for a few bucks?" Valentino snarled, crossing his arms.

Vox's screen glitched as he struggled to keep his composure. Thirty seven percent was not just a few bucks. But he knew antagonizing Val right now was more trouble than it was worth. "Val," he chuckled, sauntering forward to rest a hand on the backrest of Valentino's chair, leaning into his space. "Since when have you said no to money?" His eye widened, rings spinning.

"Since it walked out on two legs and ignored us," Valentino snorted.

"Val, I need you to see the bigger picture!" He grasped both of Valentino's shoulders, moving behind him so he could speak enticingly into his ear. "This is an opportunity to keep our brand at the top, and get dirt on that radio bitch. The future is what matters, and we are going to be the ones pioneering it."

The projector flickered to one of the surveillance cameras pointed at an exterior angle of the hotel. Then, the image suddenly rippled to show an artificial video of the same property, but instead of the tacky hotel, there stood a modern building adorned with a bright, neon V logo.

Valentino's smile grew at his last sentence, and he turned in his seat, leaning his forehead to rest against Vox's screen. "I like your vision, Cariño," he purred, grinning wickedly to show off his golden tooth. "But, if your little money-making cocksleeve doesn't come back, well, don't say I didn't tell you so~" he said in a sing-song voice, long tongue coming up to lick languidly along the side of Vox's monitor.

Vox's grin froze on his face, screen glitching.

Valentino chuckled, pushing out of his seat before strutting away. "Oh, and Vox baby," he threw a saucy wink over his shoulder. "Come find me when you get lonely, yeah?"

The double doors slammed shut behind him, bathing the room in silence. Which Velvette quickly broke, of course.

"What the fuck, Vox?" She scrubbed a hand down her face. "All this for a profit we can afford to lose? Really?"

"Velvette," his smile twitched up to full, blinding attention again. "Have I ever let you down before? Everything is under control, trust me!"

"Uh huh," Velvette scowled, unconvinced. "You know, Alastor and Y/n are the only people you've ever really lost it for, and you're going to a place where there's both of them."

"What, you don't think I can handle myself?" His smile strained.

Velvette shook her head, standing up from her chair and approaching him. "You know, that PR shit might work on everyone else, but I can see through your bullshit, Vox," she gave him a hard stare. "Just don't fuck everything up, got it? Or I'll make you wish you didn't."

His fists clenched as she walked past him, smile dropping into a scowl as soon as she was out of view.

****

—PRESENT—

"Whatever you do, make sure he's at least ten floors away from me," you muttered to Vaggie, watching as Charlie gave the bane of your existence an awkward tour of the hotel.

The atmosphere was so tense and suffocating, it was starting to make you incredibly antsy. The others were no better. Angel was drumming his fingers anxiously on the bar counter, Niffty was curiously regarding the new "resident" and Husk was already chugging his second bottle of hard liquor. Holy hell, and you couldn't even forget about Alastor if you tried, the radio demon releasing a constant stream of static and looking about ready to sacrifice someone—preferably Vox—in an incredibly painful and sadistic ritual.

"I can't believe she's letting him stay," Angel hissed under his breath, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Actually no, what am I saying? This is Charlie, of course she'd let him stay. God damnit."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around, only to find your favorite stiff drink on the counter behind you. You nodded gratefully at Husk, taking the glass and throwing it back like water.

"At least the hotel's in one piece!" Niffty chirped, her one eye back to tracking any stray insects. "Less mess to clean up." Her knife gleamed as she stabbed a cockroach clean in half with a deranged giggle.

"This isn't going to end well," Vaggie scowled darkly. "He's going to try something, I fucking know it."

"Yeah, no shit," Angel groaned, Husk grunting in agreement.

"Or," Pentious chimed in, hair flaring thoughtfully. "He truly does want to redeem himself?"

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at him incredulously, before a unanimous, resounding "no," rang out.

****

"Anddd here's your room key," Charlie presented it to him with a flourish, beaming brightly. "We hope you enjoy your stay! Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served downstairs in the dinning room, or you can go out and get your own food! We'll get your survey ready for you tomorrow so that you can start building your schedule."

"Schedule?" He quirked a brow, taking the room key from her outstretched hand. "For what, exactly?"

"Oh! Um," Charlie laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "We actually host group therapy activities and trust exercises with the other staff and residents! You'll fill out a short survey so that we can personalize—"

"O-kay, let me stop you there, sweetheart," he chuckled, grin widening condescendingly. "I think it's great what you're doing, really, I do. But I've already got a schedule, and a billion dollar company to run. I'm quite the busy man, you know?"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "But—"

"Seriously, my sales would fall and what would my clients say? Hm?" A crowd booing track played in the background as Vox shook his head like she was just some uneducated child. "So thanks, but no thanks." He shot her a wink, before the door slammed in her face.

Charlie blinked in shock, taking a few seconds to process that she'd been dismissed in her own hotel. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged away.

But that only lasted for a few steps, before she perked right back up. What was she thinking? Giving up so quickly on one of her clients?

Charlie grinned, smacking a fist into her palm. She'd just have to try harder.

Unbeknownst to her, a figure had been watching the entire exchange from the shadows. Your jaw clenched, claws digging into the drywall.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head in disdain.

****

As soon as the door shut, Vox deflated like a balloon.

"Fuckkk," he hissed under his breath, sliding down the door tiredly. "The hell am I doing?"

He allowed himself only a few minutes to wallow in self-pity, before he sighed, pushing off the floor and getting to work. In less than twenty minutes, he had the whole room wired to his needs, electronic Voxtek devices littering the previously empty spaces. Now he had a way to travel without leaving his room.

He was just about to dematerialize into one of his laptops when a familiar, chilling presence made him freeze.

"Why, you only just got here! Don't tell me you're leaving already," Alastor chuckled, tilting his head in mock concern.

The radio demon was leaning an elbow against his dresser, just casually invading his privacy. God, just his smug face made Vox want to kill him already.

"What's it to you, old timer?" Vox sneered, electricity sparking from his claws in agitation. "Unlike you, some of us actually have responsibilities. So if you don't mind—"

"Oh my, breaking your word to Y/n already!" Alastor shook his head with a grin, sound effects of a heckling crowd emanating from his microphone cane. "How very...disappointing. Truly, I'd expect better from you!"

Vox's eye widened, the swirling rings on full display as his teeth grinded in rage. "Y-y-y-you keep her fucking name out of your filthy, cannibalistic mouth! You hear me?" He glitched furiously, electricity sparking in glowing webs from his monitor.

"Aha! Someone's a little on edge," Alastor laughed in tandem with an artificial, mocking laugh track. "Really, that was too easy! You're losing your touch."

"Get the fuck out of my room!" Vox snapped.

"Gladly," the radio demon grinned menacingly, the corners of his mouth stretching to unnatural proportions. "But first, I came to deliver a little message."

Vox gritted his teeth, curling his fists by his sides. His electricity buzzed under his skin, ready to electrocute the fuck out of this crazy fucker if he needed to.

"If you and your merry band of idiots pull even the smallest stunt to sabotage the hotel," Alastor approached him, antlers growing as his eyes turned to radio dials. "I think you'll find out that absence did not make my heart grow fonder."

"What, don't tell me you actually care about this place," Vox grinned, baring his teeth. "The whole redemption thing doesn't really seem to be up your alley, no offense."

"Oh, of course not! Haha! Don't be ridiculous," Alastor chuckled like he'd said something hilarious, but it was overlayed with bursts of radio static. "But I'm afraid I've invested too much in this source of entertainment for you to ruin it with your cheap, unoriginal touch."

The message was clear: don't touch my things.

Vox curled his lip, unwilling to back down no matter how utterly disturbing Alastor's demon form was up close. It gave him chilling flashbacks of their last explosive disagreement. "Then stay away from Y/n," he spat.

Alastor's grin widened, eyes glowing an eerie green as he held out his hand. "Is that a deal?"

Vox grimaced, looking at Alastor's creepy, voodoo doll appearance. "Hell no, you creepy fucker."

Then, like whiplash, Alastor's demon form receded and the air became breathable again. "Well, glad we cleared that up, then!" He laughed exuberantly, twirling his cane. "Nice catching up, chum!"

The demon grinned as he disappeared into shadowy wisps of smoke, melding with the darkness against the walls.

Vox's jaw clenched, electric anger vibrating through him and rattling his teeth. "Fuck!" He kicked over the first thing he saw, which happened to be a wooden workbench. It took a few deep breaths for him to finally calm down and collect his thoughts.

When he was no longer at risk of causing a city-wide outage again (that had been fucking embarrassing), he made his way back to his laptop like he was originally planning to do, only to pause in shock when he saw the brand new device short circuiting, screen full of pixelated static.

An explosive rage convulsed in his chest, the lights in the hotel flickering ominously.

"You red bambi ass fucker!"

****

<—Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah @yellowsubiesdance @dirk-strides @justaspectatorforfandomarts @harmoira @sunnyslug @gum-iie @lady-valtieri @mit-suri @whatelsecouldgowrong @sillysimplysilky @eternalera @aoiyx @hazellight11 @hopefully-not @tsuvvy @imcryinginemo @dinorawrss @rekoloid @ayesha-eroticax3 @sle3pyh3ad2 @l0verboyxoxo1111

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azsazz · 3 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 16)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,641

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

When the scent of coffee hits your nose, you’re instantly invigorated.

You’d thought about canceling meeting up with Lucien this afternoon after your morning from hell. It had taken the fire department half an hour to arrive at your apartment building and another ten minutes to pry the doors of the elevator open.

By then, you and Azriel were no longer speaking, after agreeing to go to his exhibition with him, so you’d occupied yourself with reorganizing your papers, now half crumpled from their fall to the floor. You’d propped your sketchbook up on your knees and made sure you were careful enough not to flash Azriel any of the drawings.

When the doors had screeched open, there were three firefighters staring up at the two of you. Turns out, the elevator had halted halfway between two floors, and you’d had to nervously slide your body from the floor of the elevator to the landing below.

Even Azriel looked less that pleased, crouching close to you as if he was going to jump forward and snatch you should you slip. The firefighters helped you gain your footing before helping Azriel out, questioning you and asking if you needed to be looked at by an EMT.

The man asking was a handsome one. In fact, all three of them were, but there was something about this one’s deep, smooth skin, his dark braids pulled back from his face. His white teeth gleamed with the grin he sent your way, offering his help. You couldn’t help but smile back, and once the firemen had made sure that the area was safe and clear for the elevator maintenance and parted with cheerful goodbyes, did you realize that Azriel was gone.

You should’ve gone back upstairs to your apartment, but the incident left you too wired. Instead, you took a few calming breaths, shot a look and cursed at the devil elevator, and took the stairs the last two flights down.

You’d already missed your morning class, but you could still make it to your mid-morning one, Art History. The worst class you think you’ve ever signed up for in your college career thus far. But, it’s mandatory, and better to get it out of the way now instead of when you’re a semester away from graduating. The teacher is an older, knowledgeable man, but the entirety of your grade is made up of only three tests, and all of the art he’s showing you looks awfully similar to one another.

You might be fucked if you can’t figure out a way to discern one cathedral from the other.

“Hey,” Lucien greets, eyes roving the packed coffee house before settling on you. He’s dressed in a pair of loose, gray trousers, and instead of his usual sweater vest that makes him look like the most good looking TA around, he’s wearing a tight black t-shirt. It’s different, seeing him in a color darker than the gray that makes his copper hair pop. The deep black of his shirt looks painted on his skin, and you’re used to seeing him in looser fabrics.

It doesn’t stop you from brushing your gaze across the musculature of his body.

His hair is pulled back from his face this afternoon. A few long strands framing his face. He brushes them back with a strong hand as he grins down at you and his bicep flexes with the motion. Your mouth dries, and you’re suddenly thankful that you’re at the coffee house, needing something to wet your throat.

“Hey,” you stumble over the greeting, stomach flipping as his ying-yang eyes gleam down at you.

“Missed you this morning,” Lucien says, ushering you into the line. It’s longer than you’d expected it to be, but with all of the pre-weekend partying that seems to go on around your University, you suppose all of the hungover students like you need their pick-me-up to make it through the day so they’re once again ready to drink themselves stupid tonight.

“You probably won’t believe me, but I got stuck in my elevator this morning,” you huff, shuddering at the thought of being trapped in that metal container once more.

Lucien’s jaw drops and you nod, grimacing at the memory.

“Oh my Gods, are you okay?” He can’t help but to laugh and the smile you’re trying to keep tucked away breaks free. “You made it out, obviously, but holy hell, (Y/N), how are you even here right now? I’d have gone right back to sleep.”

Azriel’s uncommon niceties and disappearing act had kept you from doing just that.

You cross your arms over your chest, huffing playfully. “I couldn’t miss Art History. I have no idea what’s going on in the class and Professor Harvey sucks ass! I couldn’t tell you the difference from a Gothic or Romanesque cathedral if I’d built it myself.”

Lucien snickers. “I’m so glad I don’t have to take that. Instead, I get to enjoy History of Architecture and Urban Design. So, when you think about it, is pretty much the same thing you’re taking.”

“Sounds easier,” you grumble, glaring at the backpack of the person in front of you. “Plus, you’re naturally good at this stuff, Lu. I’m sure you’re killing it.”

The freckles on Lucien’s cheeks glow as his cheeks pinken with a blush. “I wouldn’t say all that,” he trails off, and it’s obvious that he’s being modest.

You take a step forward with the line and count the number of customers that still have to order before it’s your turn. Behind the register is a guy who looks like he would rather be anywhere else, and when you catch sight of the letters stitched into his shirt across the chest, marking him a frat member, you understand why the line is so long.

Behind the frat bro are two girls scrambling to make drink after drink. Unlike the boy at the register, they seem like a well-oiled machine, dancing around each other as if making cappuccinos and lattes is a graceful dance. You feel a twang of empathy for them even though they seem like they’re thriving back there. You have no idea how they can memorize the different drink orders, making them as efficiently as they can and giving them out to the customers within a short amount of time.

This is the kind of pressure you would crack under.

You turn back to Lucien with a playful glare. “Oh, come on. You’re one of the smartest people I know,” you don’t miss the way the tips of his ears turn red with your slew of compliments. He looks up as if nervous, while you continue. “It’s one of your better traits.”

This gets his attention. He blinks down at you. “I have bad traits?”

You elbow him teasingly. “While your intelligence is admirable, your sketching could use some work,” you poke fun at him, referring to the last time you hung out to work on your drawing projects. Instead, you had spent the night watching a terrible reality show with the bottle of wine he’d brought. Lucien had followed you to your room where you were supposed to gather your drawing supplies. He had made a joke that had you laughing so hard you nearly cried. Your stomach had ached too much to get up after that, the wine making you boneless in your comfortable bed, so the both of you spent the rest of the night there, laughing and not working on your drawing projects.

Lucien quirks a brow. “Is that so? Are you offering to be my model?”

It’s your turn to blush now, cheeks hotter than the steaming milk screaming on the other end of the counter. Your mouth parts though your tongue is a twisted mess from his flirting, knotted and thick. You don’t know how to respond, but you’re saved by a very punctual throat clearing that comes from the frat boy behind the register.

“Are either of you planning on ordering?” He asks lazily, tapping a blunt nail against the cash wrap. He wears a backwards cap, white hair poking out from the sides. You don’t miss the way that his pine green eyes drag down your body and back up, ignoring Lucien completely. You shudder in response. “Or was it your intention to hold up the line?”

You shut your mouth, teeth clacking together. So eloquently put for a boy who probably has pre-workout and pron coursing through his veins.

Lucien ushers you to the counter, apologizing for the both of you. “Sorry about that, man.”

The boy behind the counter looks as bored as ever, though his green eyes brighten when they settle once more on you. He leans forward a little, mouth tugging up in the corner in a smirk that twists his face in an unsightly maneuver. “If I offered you the moon on a string, would you give me a kiss too, baby?”

You’re surprised with the composure it takes you not to bite back at the jock, but Lucien uncharacteristically leans forward to snarl in the boy's face. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

Frat Douche leans forward, flashing his teeth in a taunting grin. He’s slightly taller than Lucien, and wider. He’s probably on the football team or something. Not that you concern yourself with his extracurriculars.

One of the barista’s spins around on her heel, gauging the way the two boys are sizing each other up. Her blazing blue eyes glare daggers between them, as if the look alone can tear them apart. Her auburn hair is slicked back perfectly, and you wonder how it stays pinned so well when she’s running around slinging coffees all day.

A crash draws your attention away from the boys squaring up before you. The other barista behind the counter is frowning, staring down at the shaker she’s dropped to the floor with a clang. The entirety of the coffee house goes still for a fleeting moment, everyone wanting to see what’s going on, but within seconds voice’s carry throughout the space as the barista swoops down to scoop the shaker from the floor, dumping it into the sink.

“Ro, quit it,” she barks, a can of whipped cream still poised and ready to add to the Frappuccino in her hand. Those icy blues flit across yours and her mouth tightens sourly. “Excuse him, sir.”

Lucien glances at her and seems to back down a little, shoulders strained as he rolls them. “(Y/N), what would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have a caramel latte,” you nearly spit in the frat boy's face. “Iced.”

With a soft nudge at your lower back, Lucien guides you away from the conceited frat rat at the cash wrap. You slide down the counter to pick up area while Lucien pays for both of your drinks. He joins you a moment later when you’ve managed to take a few deep breaths. You will not let him ruin your mood.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” you shake your head, cutting Lucien off. “Don’t apologize for him. Thank you for defending me.”

“It was the least I could do,” your friend replies, almost bashful at your thanks.

While you wait, you scour the shop for somewhere to sit. Booths are packed full with studying students, miss-matched chairs at tables stacked with people and their friends. It’s a frenzy if you’ve ever seen one, but the coffee house is a sanctuary for the university students, especially during the afternoon hours.

Tonight, the shop will be barren, with all of the patrons getting their caffeine fixes through vodka Red Bulls instead.

“You’re taller,” you comment, “Do you see any open spots that I can’t?” You ask, because there should be more seating behind the loitering line.

Lucien’s colorful eyes scan the coffee house as one of the baristas brings your drinks over to the counter. It’s the one with piercing blue eyes and copper hair. She’s staring you down, a hard look on her face that you can’t discern is concentration or annoyance. You can’t blame her if she’s either, concentrating on the tasks at hand, making coffees left and right. She has every right to be annoyed with the customers who ask for thirteen extra shots of syrup or her coworker who apparently doesn’t know how to speak to women. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made comments to the two girls he’s working alongside, but you think that the one who slams your cups onto the counter with a little too much force can hold her own. And so can the one with white as bone hair and goldenrod eyes. Those sharp, long nails dipped in metallic are enough for you to know that she doesn’t fuck around nor let anyone fuck with her. You make a face but the barista is already turning away, beginning to work on the next order.

“There’s a table open by the window,” Lucien points to the corner of the room to a table in front of the large windows. You lead the way, a bounce in your step as you move quickly so the table doesn’t get snatched.

“What a day,” you sigh, finally relaxing into the cushy seat. You place your coffee on the low table between you, and while it’s not the best seat to get work done, you’re happy to be relaxing and chatting with your friend right now.

Lucien snorts at you, taking a sip of his drink. You watch his throat bob with the swallow, and you avert your gaze, looking outside of the window.

There are students walking by in a flurry, a third of them trying to stuff themselves through the coffee shop doors, needing a shot of the drink to make it through the afternoon.

“So, what are your plans this weekend?” you start with, mentally reprimanding yourself for staring at his bobbing throat. You play with the straw in your drink, swirling the ice around to give yourself something to do.

Lucien lets out a long suffering sigh that has you looking up once more.

“I’m supposed to be having family dinner this weekend, but I’m dreading riding back with my father and brother.”

“I’m sorry,” you offer sympathetically that Lucien shrugs off. It’s not a topic he favors talking about, but you’re curious. “A brother? Does he go here?”

Lucien sets his cup down on the table between you, wiping his palms down his trousers as he clears his throat. He looks like he’s preparing himself for war, with the way that he’s acting, and you almost feel even worse for asking.

“I have six brothers, actually,” he says, and you nearly spit out your drink. Six brothers? Holy crap, that’s a lot. “And half of them go or have gone here,” he trails off, and you can’t do anything but stare at him in shock.

“Wow, your family really likes this place,” you mutter.

“Yeah, well. My father is the Head of Civil Engineering.”

“Oh, so you’re like Vulcan University royalty,” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shooting you a playful glare.

“If I went into engineering, I would’ve been,” Lucien answers, glaring down at his cup. His shoulders are rigid, and you’re sensing that he doesn’t care to talk about this, but he continues nonetheless. “Eris, my eldest brother, is getting his Masters in Civil Engineering, following in my father’s footsteps, and I’m going into architecture, which, and I quote, ‘is for those people who can’t solve a differential equation.’”

You don’t say that you have no idea what that is, but Lucien must see it on your face because he cracks a smile. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So, you’re telling me that all of your brothers are engineers?” you ask, because the odds of that happening must be some crazy statistic. Almost as crazy as having seven sons and no daughters.

Across the shop, the bell chimes again, signaling the arrival of more students. It’s as if you can feel the air shifting, becoming more electrified. The feeling draws your attention to the door, where Azriel and Mor have just walked in.

Like a magnet, Azriel’s gaze meets yours, bright and gold.

It makes you want to shrink back in your seat a little, with the way that they flick over to see who you’re with. Your stomach flips with nerves but you’re not even a little ashamed of who you’re with, so why is that happening? The gold splinters, and you can see the way his shoulders tighten from across the room. Mor senses the shift in Azriel’s mood and scans the shop, caramel brows pinched together in a threatening way, as if she’ll verbally spar with anyone who makes Azriel feel this way.

When her eyes snag on yours, her red lips part in a genuine, red smile.

All you can muster is a soft smile and a lame wave, stomach flipping like you’ve been caught having public sex with Lucien under that harsh gold gaze.

Dragging your eyes from the sight of them, you focus on Lucien with all of your might as you feel him watching you, reading you.

“Not entirely,” Lucien shrugs, scooting his chair closer to yours now that the coffee shop has gone up in decibels with all of the post lunch time rush. “Eris is studying for his masters. Pyrolas is on scholarship at St. Bryaxis’ University for wrestling, but on paper he’s a communications major, which is funny because everytime he talks to someone in the family they’re always arguing,” he rolls his eyes, but the smile that accompanies it tells you that he’s close with Pyrolas. “He’s never cared about what anyone thinks about him anyway, which is a trait I wish I had,” Lucien admits, and you’re agreeing with him.

“Me too,” you sigh, placing a hand on his knee empathetically. “Are you close to him?”

“Used to be,” he shrugs a little. “Oak is the smartest, he’s a senior, getting a physics degree, which my father couldn’t complain about. Conleth is in the Netherlands, taking the semester to study bridge structure. Boring, I know,” he laughs at the face you’re making. “And the twins are juniors here, Foxe is studying Mechanical Engineering and Finch is studying Chemical Engineering. Always sucking up to dad, those two.”

“Damn,” you curse low, shocked. “I’m not sure if I’m more shocked by the fact that your entire family is a bunch of geniuses or that two of your brothers are named after animals.”

Your joke seems to crack the heaviness of the conversation. It’s clear that whatever kind of relationships he has with his father and brothers is strained, but Lucien allows the feeling to fall off of his shoulders as the two of you burst into fits of giggles.

“See, this is why I like you, (Y/N). You’re very easy to talk to.”

“Don’t forget funny,” you chuckle, grinning wide.

“Right, how could I forget. Funniest person I’ve ever met,” he jokes, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Hey,” you whine, shoving right back, “It’s true! I would never lie about something like that!”

Lucien smiles broadly, taking another sip of his drink. “You’re right, I’ll give you that one. What about you? Any plans this weekend?”

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of your plans for the weekend. You’re going to Azriel’s exhibition tomorrow, someone who you’ve been beefing with since the start of the year. Why had you said yes? You really want to spend your Saturday night with someone you’re not even sure you can make it through the night without arguing with?

Parting your mouth to answer Lucien, you’re cut off by a looming figure. Looking up, you notice Azriel. His jaw is set in a firm line, golden eyes blazing like a thousand fires. There’s a steaming hot coffee in his hand and you find yourself wondering what he’s drinking, but you assume that it’s plain black coffee like the attire he’s dressed in. Mor stands a step behind, a sly smirk she’s clearly trying to hide on her lips.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30 tomorrow night.” Azriel’s voice is cold as shadows, and you frown in response. Lucien looks confused, staring up at your neighbor as if he recognizes him somehow.

You nod shallowly, cheeks hot at the look on Azriel’s face. You don’t know why you feel like you’ve been caught in the act, but him interrupting you like this is none of his business. He could have asked Cassian for your number or told you this morning if he thought you needed the reminder. “Okay.”

Azriel stares at you for a moment longer, then twists on his heel and stalks away, completely ignoring the hard look on Lucien’s face and forgetting Mor.

You follow him, the way he moves with such grace. The crowd parts for him, more sets of hungry eyes trailing after him like yours. It makes something hot twist your gut, and you’re tearing your gaze away to Mor, who beams brightly.

“So nice to meet you last night, (Y/N),” she winks, looking like she knows something that you don’t. “I hope to see you again soon.” With a flourish of her blonde hair being tossed over her shoulder, Mor trails Azriel out of the coffee shop, just as many eyes following her as there were following Azriel.

“I thought you didn’t like that guy,” Lucien says, slumping back in his chair a little. You’d complained when he had come over to your apartment to study, when he’d told you that he ran into Cassian and his moody roommate in the hall.

“Yeah,” you answer weakly, reaching for your coffee again. The words taste funny on your tongue as they come out. “I don’t.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @homeslices @quinzzelx @carlandonorri-s @juniper-july19

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #midnight muse #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #modern acotar

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munson-blurbs · 9 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Summary: Will's birthday party brings back some familiar faces and gives Eddie the perfect opportunity to make amends with Corroded Coffin, but an unexpected interruption might have him hurtling towards his old ways.

Warnings: some dirty talk (18+ only just in case), drinking/drunkenness (everyone is over 21), pregnancy and labor complications, mentions of past bullying

WC: 8.2k

Chapter 14/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special shoutout to @storiesbyrhi and @corroded-hellfire for helping with the fluffy sections and making this piece strong.

Afternoons at Hawkins Preschool are predictable: storytime on the carpet is followed by the kids’ pack-up routine, and once all belongings are shoved into their proper backpacks, they file out the door to go home.

Predictable is good. It’s safe. And it certainly doesn’t include a fire drill half an hour before dismissal.

Herding nine children through the bustling hallways and trying to ensure no one is left behind is overwhelming enough. Factor in the ear-splitting alarm and the surge of adrenaline pulsing through your students once they re-enter your classroom, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for chaos.

Instead of fighting a losing battle to keep the kids calm and quiet, you’d opted to plunk them down with myriad art supplies and called it a day.

Now, after the last student had been picked up, you and Will are left cleaning the mess they’d made. Broken crayons are scattered across the tabletops, there’s Play-Doh of various colors stuck to the floor, and gold glitter—when did you even acquire glitter?—dusts every surface.

“Seriously…who thought that that timing was a good idea?” Will grumbles, tossing a Crayola stub into the crayon basket. He adopts a nasal, mocking tone. “‘What would help out our teachers? Oh, I know—let’s interrupt their dismissal routines!’”

You laugh despite your own exhaustion. Somehow, you’ll have to muster up the energy to tutor Harris tonight.

Will reaches into the cupboard to grab his car keys, turning back around with a smile that he only offers you when he needs something. “Could I ask you for a little favor?”

There it is. “How little?” You cock one brow as you clip a stack of papers together.

“Eensy weensy. Miniscule. Microscopic–”

“The more you say it, the less I believe you.”

“Okay, okay,” Will acquiesces, twirling his keyring around his forefinger. “So, for my birthday thing on Saturday…a bunch of my childhood friends are gonna be there. Mike, Dustin, Suzie, Lucas, Max, Jane…” he lists them, ticking off each name on his fingers. “Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could talk to Eddie about a Corroded Coffin reunion? I know they’re on a hiatus or whatever, but if anyone can convince him to play, it’s you.”

He’s not wrong; you’re the most likely person to get Eddie to do, well, anything. But asking him to make amends with Danny and Gareth and getting their band to play a gig three days from now seems like a mountainous task.

Will is staring at you, hands clasped together pleadingly. He’s too optimistic for his own good, and you can’t help but give in.

“Fine, I’ll try. But–hey, don’t get excited yet,” you warn when he pumps his fist in celebration. “‘Try’ is the key word here. I’m not making any promises.”

Your admonition goes unheeded as Will already considers it a victory. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You give him a small, tight-lipped wave as he dashes out the door. You and Eddie were already planning to attend the party; you’d spent part of last night scouring an art store for the perfect gift. And he and Jeff were back to being thick as thieves…maybe this could work.

“All right, Mr. Harris,” you say with a laugh, hurriedly placing tiles of various shapes in front of him. You need to make the most of the few minutes you have left until Eddie arrives. There’s a soft, familiar flutter in your stomach as you think about seeing your boyfriend, but you know you can’t compete with him for Harris’s attention. “Can you find the…trapezoid?” The inflection in your voice makes it sound like a much more exciting task than it really is, and you hope it’s enough to wrangle his focus.

Harris pokes out his tiny pink tongue as he assesses the tiles. He initially reaches for the blue rhombus, but as soon as his little finger touches it, he pulls away as though it’s on fire. “No…that’s not it.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to suppress your amusement as he thoughtfully taps his forefinger on his lips. A solid ten seconds pass before he triumphantly snatches up the correct tile. “Got it!” he beams, showing off the red trapezoid in his hand.

“You did! You got the trapezoid!” You hold up your hand for a high-five, frowning when he shakes his head. His overgrown curls brush along his eyebrows, and you wonder if it’s your place to suggest that Eddie take him for a haircut. “No high-five?”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, now swiveling his whole body in defiance. “I want…tickles!” He holds his arms out, leaving his torso wide open.

Lips pursed in faux consideration, you lower your voice to a hushed whisper. “Hmm…I think that warrants a visit from the Tickle Monster!” You flex your fingers so they resemble claws; he instinctively scrunches up in anticipation, arms tucked into his stomach. You let out your silliest wicked cackle as your fingers dig mercilessly into his sides in pursuit of his most ticklish spots. Delighted peals of laughter emanate from his chest, and you don’t stop until the buzzer rings, signaling Eddie’s arrival.

Harris’s eyes get wide, mischief dancing behind his pupils. “Do you think the Tickle Monster should get Daddy?” he asks, keeping his voice low despite it only being the two of you.

“Oh, absolutely.” You buzz Eddie in while formulating the game plan aloud. “I’ll grab the pizza and you go on the attack. Once the food is secured, I’ll join you.” You stick out your pinky, and he wraps his own around it.

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His words turn your heart into a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven, ooey gooey and destined to crumble if handled too harshly. “I love you, too, Harris,” you manage, blinking back embarrassing tears. The flood of emotion is absurd; he probably tells his stuffed animals that he loves them with the same fervor, but you can’t deny the adoration with which he looks at you.

He flings his arms around you in a hug, squeezing tight. Face pressed to your ribs, his words are muffled but still audible when he says, “I don’t know why Daddy says it’s hard to say ‘I love you.’”

He doesn’t have time to further elaborate before Eddie’s knocking on the door. “Special delivery for my two favorite people!” Your heart beats faster with the knowledge that he’s on the other side, that you’ll be able to sneak in a kiss or two.

You and Harris share devious grins, the little boy emulating your monster-esque stance from earlier. He creeps behind you on his tiptoes, and bites back a giggle when you slowly open the door, counting down from three under your breath.

“Hi–whoa!” Eddie stumbles back as Harris barrels into him, little fingers dancing across his lower stomach. You quickly snatch the pizza box from Eddie’s grasp and place it on the table before darting back to where his son has ambushed him. You start on his bicep and let your nails travel upwards until they reach the crook of his neck.

“I’m under attack!” Eddie yelps, twitching this way and that way in a meager attempt to protect himself. “I bring you pizza and this is how I’m repaid?” He easily scoops Harris into his arms, flinging him over his shoulder. Harris lets out an exhilarated squeal, carelessly kicking his sock-clad feet into his dad’s chest. “Jesus, little dude. You’re getting too strong.” Wincing slightly from the pinch in his back as he places the boy on the floor, he gives his tush a little pat and tells him to wash up for dinner, reminding him to use soap and water.

As soon as Harris scampers off into the bathroom, Eddie’s grabbing you by the belt loops of the wide-leg jeans you’d changed into when you got home. One hand slides around your waist and the other finds purchase on your cheek as he kisses you deeply, keeping a listening ear out for the telltale pitter-patter of Harris returning.

“Missed you,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you shiver at the intimacy this closeness brings.

You laugh quietly, biting your lower lip. “We just saw each other this morning,” you remind him, sneaking in another quick peck.

Eddie shakes his head. “Y’know what I mean. Can’t do this while you’re on the clock,” he counters, shifting his grip so both hands rest on either side of your face. You think he’s going to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today.” He rests the slope of his nose on yours, only snapping out of his trance at the sound of Harris rapidly switching the faucet on and off. “Let me go check on him before this place is underwater,” he whispers, giving your own ass a smack as he shuffles towards his mischievous son, a cheeky grin deepening his dimples.

You do your best to compose yourself, heat creeping up your neck and into your face. Busying yourself by placing pizza slices onto paper plates does little to distract you; it’s as though every neuron is dedicated to flooding your brain with Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

The way the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheeks when he holds your face. The plush moisture of his lips when he kisses your forehead. The tickle of his brown tresses when he nuzzles into you and takes a deep breath, finally able to relax after a long day.

“Are you expecting a guest?” Eddie pipes up from the kitchen entrance. A perplexed frown overtakes your lips until he gestures to what you’ve laid out in front of you: four slices of pizza, two plain and two with olives, on four plates.

Your vision gets a bit fuzzy with tears when you realize what you’ve done. “No, it’s, um…” Nostrils flare as you huff out a short puff of air, hot under your nose. “Force of habit, sorry.” You’ve been so diligent about only serving three slices, but your preoccupation with his touch had your mind drifting from the task at hand.

It takes him a moment to process what you mean, but when he does, his face falls. It was for Grandma. “It’s okay,” he says, cringing as the words leave his mouth. Because it’s not okay that you’re sad; it’s normal, but frustration still tugs at his heart that he can’t take it away.

It feels wrong to return the slice to the box, so you leave it where it is. Eddie balances the three plates, sliding a plain one in front of Harris. The boy digs in hungrily, sauce caught on the edges of his smile.

“How was work?” you ask Eddie, grabbing a napkin from the pile in the center of the table. It’s a simple question, one that people ask each other all the time, but it stirs up a warmth inside of him. It’s you asking him, fostering a domestic routine that he could follow for the rest of his life. He’d walk through the door of your house, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat you two had picked out together. The kids–Harris, plus another Little Munson or two–would practically knock him down trying to greet him, and he’d engulf them in bear hugs before reaching out to you, kissing your forehead with a murmured, “there’s my girl.”

“Eds?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was good.” He stumbles over the words, trying to clear his head of the fantasy he’d conjured up. “Lotsa paperwork, y’know.” He takes a bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “What about you?”

You shrug, watching amusedly as Harris sinks his teeth into his slice and manages to pull all of the cheese off of the crust in one fell swoop. “The usual. The kids are learning about springtime, so Will decided to do a craft making flowers using finger paint and their handprints.”

“Sounds messy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree with a weary grin, “but it was super cute, and Will is great with all that art stuff.” You excuse yourself from the table to get the water pitcher and three glasses, stopping when you remember your TA’s request. “He also asked me if a certain local metal band could play his birthday party on Saturday…?”

Eddie pauses mid-chew, nearly choking on his food. The cheese seems to congeal in his mouth when he tries to speak. “Um, I don’t know about that,” he finally manages, nervously massaging the back of his neck. “I haven’t talked to Danny or Gareth since…”

“I know, but you said you wanted to make things right with them,” you point out. “Maybe Jeff can test the waters? See if they’re ready to talk to you?”

“Maybe.” He averts his gaze, staring at the pizza slice without taking another bite.

You don’t want to further push the subject in Harris’s presence; instead, you turn your attention to the little boy. “Anything fun happen at school today, Har?”

“Nah,” he responds automatically just a half-second before his eyes light up. “Actually, yeah! My friend Charlie ate a bug at recess today!”

“Ew!” you exclaim, wrinkling your nose in pure disgust, as Eddie simultaneously poses the question, “what kind of bug?”

“An ant,” Harris answers his dad nonchalantly, as though ant-eating is an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it is, which is even more unsettling.

“Did you eat any bugs?” You’re afraid of his response; you’re unsure why you even asked in the first place.

To your relief, he shakes his head, a forlorn look on his cherubic face. “No, I couldn’t catch any in time.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” you mutter, turning back to your original task of getting something to drink. Though if the topic of bug consumption continues, you’ll need something much stronger than water.

Could Corroded Coffin play again?

It’s a thought that consumes Eddie for the entirety of his drive home, barely able to listen to Harris yammering about how there’s a coin in his jacket pocket that he doesn’t remember putting there. He throws a few lackluster mhms his son’s way and hopes he’s too distracted by the mystery coin to catch on.

We’re getting the band back together. Well, if Jake and Elwood Blues could swing it, maybe he could, too.

He waits until Harris is asleep to call Jeff. Getting his son to do his bedtime routine is easiest on Wednesday nights; he’s usually exhausted after a full day of school and tutoring. The one time that Eddie could use an excuse to procrastinate, Harris is out like a light.

Go to voicemail go to voicemail go to—

“‘Lo?”

Shit. “H-Hey, man,” Eddie begins awkwardly. “How’s it going? Viv doing okay?”

“We’re good. She’s ready to have this baby already. I reminded her, ‘just two more weeks,’ but then she told me to ‘fuck off’ until I’m the pregnant one, so…” he chuckles, more nervous than amused. “Everything good with you? Harris?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just, um,” he struggles to find the words, blurting out the first ones that enter his brain. They come out in a rush before he can stop them. “Do Gareth and Danny still hate me?”

Jeff takes a sharp breath in; his reaction does nothing to temper Eddie’s nerves. “They never hated you. They were just…disappointed? Jesus, I sound like my mom.”

Eddie misses his friend’s anecdote, too wrapped up in his head to fully pay attention. Somehow, disappointed stings worse than the prospect of being hated, especially when the people he’s let down are ones who used to idolize him. “Do you think there’s a way they could be…undisappointed in me? Like, enough to forgive me and maybe play a gig this weekend?”

There’s an extended pause, and then a one-word response: “Christ.”

Eddie can picture Jeff rubbing his eyes in exasperation, and he scrambles to explain. “Will Byers–you remember him? He was in Hellfire; had that weird bowl cut thing going on?”

“Mhm.”

“He’s having a birthday thing at the Hideout on Saturday and asked if we could play. Just a coupla songs.”

Jeff thinks for a moment; Eddie can hear him drumming his fingers on a nearby surface.

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow night around…6?” he ventures. “I’ll invite the guys and we can…I dunno, figure something out.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.” He’s about to hang up when he remembers to ask, “Can I bring Harris?”

“Of course.”

“Har, slow down!” Eddie’s barely unbuckled his son’s car seat before Harris has wriggled out of the sedan, bolting straight for Jeff’s door.

“But I haven’t seen Uncle Danny and Uncle Gareth in forever!” he laments, reaching the house far faster than Eddie. He stands on tiptoes and rings the doorbell like a madman, forefinger jamming into the button at warp speed. “Uncle Jeff! It’s me!”

Jeff opens the door with a huge smile. “Mini Munson!” He scoops the boy up into a hug. “What’s new with you, little dude?”

“I got a wiggly tooth!” Harris exclaims, jutting out his jaw and pressing his tongue against the front center of his mouth. Sure enough, the baby tooth moves slightly forward, and he giggles. “Daddy says the Tooth Fairy’s gonna come and leave me a dollar,” he matter-of-factly reports. He peeks his head over Jeff’s shoulder, squealing and squirming out of his grip when he spots the two men sitting on the couch. He flings himself onto the sofa and plunks himself down into Gareth’s lap. “Hi!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Gareth chirps. “You’re getting so big.”

“‘M five now. I had a birthday party because I turned five.” He splays out his palm to offer five fingers.

“Did your friends go?”

“Yup!” Harris beams at the memory. “An’ Daddy an’ Grampa Wayne an’ Ms. Sweetheart.”

Danny furrows his brows. “Who’s Ms. Sweetheart?”

“She’s my almost-mommy. Daddy has to fall in love with her first.”

“Is that so?” Gareth smirks at Eddie. His teasing look is the first crack in the wall that has separated the men for the last six months, and though Eddie is thoroughly embarrassed, it alleviates some of his anxiety.

“Uh, Har Bear, why don’t you go hang out with Auntie Viv while I talk with the guys?”

Viv holds out her left hand, looking utterly exhausted. Her right hand rests on her bump, eyes sending a telepathic message to Jeff that they have five minutes—ten minutes, if Harris behaves well—to come to a solution before she needs a break.

Silence filters into the room as Eddie fumbles to address the mess he’s made. If Danny and Gareth are here, they’re at least willing to listen to him, which is honestly farther than he’d assumed he’d get.

He remembers what Harris said about apologizing; technically, what you’d taught him about apologizing: the act of saying sorry, not merely implying it, makes a world of difference.

“I was an asshole,” he starts. It’s not his most eloquent statement, but it certainly gets the point across. “Not just that night at the Hideout, or at our last practice. I was an asshole for a long time before that. And…I’m sorry.” It feels good to say it; it feels even better that they’re nodding, seeming to believe him. “You guys didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Of the rest of the band, Gareth is the one to speak first. “I guess I’m just wondering, why? Why be an asshole to us? We’ve always been there for you.”

“I know.” Eddie fiddles with a thread hanging from his t-shirt, pulling on it until it snaps off. He shoves it in his jeans pocket, not wanting to mess up Jeff and Viv’s place. “Honestly…I’m not sure, but I think it’s because you guys are everything I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asks, tone heavy with disbelief.

“In high school, I was the one you looked up to. The person you wanted to be like. And then I had a kid with some random chick I thought I knew but barely did, gave up my dreams of being a musician, and started selling weed again just to scrape by. And here you guys are. Jeff,” he motions to the friend leaning against the sofa’s arm, “you have a baby on the way with the love of your life. And all of you have goddamn college degrees and jobs that you don’t despise and don’t require you to hide from the law.” He shoves his ringed fingers into his jacket pockets, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “And I was nothing.”

Gareth scratches at the upholstery with one finger, absorbing everything he’s just heard. “You know we never stopped looking up to you, right?” He gives a short laugh when Eddie’s eyes widen. “Yeah, man. Leaving Chicago so you could take care of Harris? Putting your kid before yourself? That’s pretty badass.”

Danny nods. “Ed, if there’s someone here to look up to, it’s you.” Both he and Eddie visibly relax. Shoulders drop from their hunched positions, thin lips unfurling into smiles. “No matter what you went through, you never gave up. Even if it almost killed us,” he adds wryly, referring to all of the sleep-deprived Corroded Coffin practices fueled by black coffee and pure adrenaline.

“No fancy diploma can teach us how to stand up for ourselves, or how not to take shit from people, or how to be a dad,” Jeff pipes up from where he’s standing. “We learn from you, man.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn at the compliments, unsure how to accept them. He’d walked in expecting to have to beg for forgiveness, and they were the ones reassuring him. It’s now or never, and he forges ahead while he still has the courage. “Do you…can we get the band back together?” Can we be friends again is the underlying plea, but it’s too vulnerable a statement to make. “We’ll keep it low-key, I promise. Work, family, anything comes up…we can cancel or reschedule. And I won’t be a dick about it.”

The three other men look at one another, nod and turn back to Eddie with smart grins and mischievous glimmers in their eyes.

“On one condition.” Gareth crosses his arms over his chest, smirking as he sinks back against the couch. “You tell us all about this ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’”

The Hideout, normally dingy and coated in a film of sticky ale, has been decked out for Will’s birthday party. Helium-filled balloons in every color bob along the low ceiling, vibrating with the thumping bass of the old sound system. Crepe paper streamers–purple, Will’s favorite color–sway gently with the air that rushes in from opening the door. This has to be Marshall’s handiwork, and it brings a smile to your face. If anyone deserves a partner who fawns over him, it’s Will.

You spot him surrounded by a group of people as the bartender slides a row of tequila shots across the bar and into their eager hands. While they’re distracted by alcohol, you take the opportunity to dart towards the backstage area.

Eddie’s there, digging around for his lucky pick. You wrap your arms around his waist, fingers pressed into the soft dough of his tummy.

“Hey, Rockstar,” you murmur against his neck, kissing just below his earlobe.

He turns around, jaw dropping when he sees you in a maroon slip dress. The heels on your feet have you two inches taller than usual, and he has to shift where his gaze normally lands to meet your eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Eddie practically growls, kissing you deeply. One hand presses against the small of your back while the other grabs the plush of your ass, kneading it in his palm. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy. How’m I gonna go out there and play with you looking like that?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” You giggle when he offers up a bemused smile. “If you do a good job tonight, I’ll give you a reward.” You let your fingertips graze over the metal teeth of his pants zipper, feeling him twitch at your light touch.

“You’re dangerous,” he winks, delivering another kiss; this time, he gives your lower lip a little bite when he pulls away. His kohl-rimmed eyes draw you in just as they did that first night you’d met, but now you dive into them without the fear of drowning.

A tactful “ahem” from the now-open doorway startles both you and Eddie, having been floating in an embrace that’s equal parts comfort and desire.

“Sorry to interrupt the lovefest, but we’re on in five,” a man’s voice calls from the doorway. You turn around to see the other three Corroded Coffin members standing there, amusement evident in their expressions.

“You must be Ms. Sweetheart,” one of the guys, soft curls resting atop his head, pipes up. His tone is teasing, but not mocking; the nickname is said with admiration and affection. “I’m Gareth, by the way.”

“Danny,” the one with tight, wiry curls offers, giving a small wave.

Jeff just shrugs. “You know me.”

Eddie grabs his guitar, slinging the strap across his body. His pants’ fly is tight, and he wills himself to calm down before it’s time to perform. He hasn’t worried about being hard on stage since he was nineteen, but thoughts of your bodies perfectly melding into each other has him subtly adjusting himself as he turns his back to his bandmates.

“See ya out there, baby,” he says before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The brief contact between you has you biting your tongue in self-beration for suggesting that the band play tonight. All you want is to dance with him, allowing the steady flow of alcohol to dull your inhibitions as you pull him impossibly close. Not caring who sees or what they think.

But this night isn’t about you or Eddie. It’s about Will, your TA-turned-friend who has kept you sane amidst your adorably chaotic students and their decidedly less adorable and more chaotic parents. He wanted Corroded Coffin to play his party, and that’s the least you could do for him.

Will’s already teetering between tipsy and inebriated, breath tinged with the scent of tequila as he introduces you to his friends.

“This is my amazing boyfriend, Marshall.” He smacks a wet kiss to the man’s cheek. “And these are my friends from growing up: Dustin and Suzie, Lucas and Max, and Mike and Jane.” His face melts into a sappy grin as he leans on Marshall to hold him up. “You guys! We’re all in looooove!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin mutters, rolling his eyes and shaking his head before turning his attention back to you. “Can we get you something to drink?”

Will raises his empty glass. “I’ll take another–”

“Not you.”

You manage to sneak in a quick conversation with Max, Suzie, and Jane before Corroded Coffin starts their set. Max is finishing up her Masters in English literature at New York University, set to graduate in two months. Suzie programs for NASA, and though Florida is a far cry from her home state of Utah, she loves her job. And Jane is a social worker at a local adoption agency, the cause close to her heart, as she was adopted by Chief Hopper years ago.

“Damn,” you laugh, taking a small sip of your vodka soda. You’re having so much fun that you don’t even care that it’s been watered down. “You’re all such badasses!”

Your admiration of their collective girl power is cut short by the sound of Corroded Coffin taking the stage. It’s as though they’d never taken an extended break; just picked up right where they left off. You cheer so loudly that there’s a pinch in your throat, but you push past it. It’s more than applause. There’s so much tucked away in your yell: I’m proud of you; you’re a rockstar; you’re my person forever, if you’ll have me.

“Hello, Hawkins!” Eddie bellows into the mic. There’s no missing the grin on his face. He’s happy. He’s in his element. He’s where he belongs.

“No way!” Lucas exclaims, awestruck as he turns to Will.

“Dude, you got Corroded Coffin?” Mike mirrors his friend’s excitement. He slings an arm around Will’s shoulder and pulls him in for a side hug. “This is fuckin’ awesome!”

“The first song of the night goes out to our guest of honor, Will Byers!” Everyone hoots and hollers as Eddie plays the opening chords to The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go. Eddie told you he remembered that the song was one of Will’s favorites growing up; his older brother had gotten him into the band. Sure enough, Will’s bopping to the rhythm, singing every word, albeit quite off-key.

Corroded Coffin plays a few more songs from their usual setlist, nerves dissipating with each note, before Eddie speaks into the mic again.

“This next one is for my beautiful girlfriend,” he announces, eyes gazing into yours. “Baby, if my teachers looked like you, I actually would’ve gone to class.”

He nods at Gareth, who starts playing an incredibly complicated beat. As soon as you hear it, you feel your cheeks heat up. The rest of the guys join in on their own instruments, and Eddie oozes bravado as he sings.

“T-Teacher stop that screamin’ Teacher don’t you see Don’t wanna be no uptown fool.”

Max leans in to you and whisper-shouts, “I’ve known Eddie for years, and I’ve never seen him so…happy.”

Lucas overhears his girlfriend and adds his two cents. “That’s because we’ve never seen him in love.”

Warmth spreads all over your body, but it’s not from embarrassment. Allowing yourself to believe that Eddie loves you—is in love with you—opens a door you’d deadbolted until the time was right. You hadn’t wanted to rush things, but the jolt of exhilaration following Lucas’s statement means you can’t deny it any longer: you love Eddie Munson. You’re in love with Eddie Munson.

“Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad I'm hot for teacher I've got it bad, so bad I'm hot for teacher.”

Will takes the opportunity to twirl you around, and you laugh as you spin amongst new friends, your drink threatening to spill over the sides as he turns you faster.

“Hey! Thank you, by the way!” he shouts, probably a bit louder than he needs to.

“For what?”

“For getting Corroded Coffin to play!” He jerks a thumb towards the stage, stumbling a bit as he does. He’d managed to sneak another tequila shot when his boyfriend left him unattended to use the restroom, and it definitely shows. “And for, like, being there for me.”

You give him a hug, immediately understanding the full implication of his statement. “I’ll always have your back,” you promise, filled with the mingled buzzes of alcohol and belonging.

“I think of all the education that I've missed But then my homework was never quite like this!”

Eddie jumps off of the tiny stage and into the crowd of nine twenty-somethings, each at various levels of tipsiness, and reaches for you to pull you close to him. He’s sweating from constantly moving around and the stage lights, his fingers slick with perspiration as he laces them with yours. Jeff picks up the rhythm for the lead guitar while Eddie kisses you, soft and slow and sensual. He loses himself for a moment before hopping back up to join the rest of the band.

As Corroded Coffin wraps up their Van Halen cover and stops for a quick sip of water, there’s a small commotion behind the bar.

“Is there a Jeff Reynolds here?” the bartender calls out, phone receiver in hand.

Jeff gives a little wave, eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s me.”

“Someone named Jess on the line? Says your girl is in labor and you need to get to the hospital.”

“Holy shit!” Danny claps a hand to Jeff’s back and grins. “C’mon, man! Let’s get you outta here!”

Jeff freezes up; hands clammy as he grips the guitar’s neck. “Can you drive?” he asks Eddie.

Eddie recognizes the fear in his friend’s voice. The selfish part of him wants to refuse to take Jeff to Hawkins General. He could easily plant his feet on the stage and keep playing, claiming that ‘the show must go on.’

No, he silently chastises himself, Jeff needs me. He needs me and I’ll be damned if I let him down again.

“Of course,” Eddie says, trying to force a relaxed disposition. It doesn’t matter; Jeff is too overwhelmed to notice the obvious effort.

“Take my car,” you offer, keys already dangling from your fingertips. “Eds, I can take yours and pick up Harris from Wayne’s tomorrow.” It’s easier to swap rides than to uninstall and reinstall the carseat, so you’re perplexed when Eddie shakes his head.

Two words slip through his lips, soft but pronounced: “Need you.”

Dustin catches wind of the situation and insists on watching Harris until you and Eddie can come back home, claiming he needs to squeeze in as much uncle-nephew bonding time as possible before returning to Florida.

“Henderson, it’s late; don’t let him stay up,” Eddie warns as he tosses over his car keys.

Dustin tries catching them in one hand, but they hit the center of his palm and fall to the ground. “But the best part of being an uncle is breaking the rules!” he laughs as he scoops the keys off of the floor. “By the way, I’m not drunk; just a shit baseball player.” Still, Eddie’s sigh of relief is audible when Suzie plucks the keyring from Dustin’s hand.

With Harris taken care of, you turn your attention to your boyfriend. Eddie’s face is flushed pale, and you’re worried about him behind the wheel. “Want me to drive?”

He nods and grabs onto your hand as you lead the two men to your car. Eddie’s doing his best to keep Jeff calm, reminding him that the doctors and nurses have everything under control until he gets there.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Jeff murmurs, a disbelieving chuckle permeating the otherwise silent car. “Holy shit.”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. “It only gets crazier from here.”

The bright lights of the hospital’s waiting room are anything but soothing, especially compared to the dimly-lit bar you’d just left. You speak to the receptionist, an older woman with a tired smile and red-rouged cheeks, explaining the situation as she pages Jess while Jeff and Eddie take a seat.

Jeff’s voice is nearly impossible to hear despite the stillness of the room. “The baby was breech at Viv’s last appointment.” He clocks Eddie’s confusion and elaborates. “Feet first, instead of the head. If they didn’t get into the right position and the doctors can’t, I dunno, flip ‘em around? They’ll have to do a c-section.” Long overdue tears spill over his lash line, and he makes no attempt to swipe them away. “I just wanna fix it and I can’t.”

Helplessness. It’s a feeling Eddie knows all too well. He spins a ring around his finger, exhaling softly as he considers a response. He can’t say it’ll be alright, because he has no idea whether or not it will be. He and Jeff both know that.

“No matter what, I’m here for you.” Eddie’s gaze flits over to the receptionist’s desk, where Jess has now arrived and is waving her brother-in-law over. “You’re up.”

But Jeff remains in his chair, hands shoved under his thighs as though they’re glued to the seat. “I…I don’t know if I can do this. What if something happens to Viv or the baby? How can I…?” He doesn’t allow himself to complete the sentence, to finish the thought.

Instinctively, Eddie puts his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. He can feel them trembling slightly as his friend heaves another shaky breath. “Listen to me. You’re gonna do this. You’re gonna go in that room and watch your girl give birth to your baby. Because if you don’t, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your fuckin’ life.” He glances around and lowers his voice. “I know you’re scared, okay? I get it. And once your kid is safely here, we can talk about it. But right now, you need to pull it together and go be a goddamn dad.”

Jeff nods, finally acquiring the physical stability to stand. “Thank you,” he whispers, clearing his throat and wiping the wet stains from his cheeks. He starts towards Jess before turning back to Eddie. “Could you stay until the baby’s born? If you have to get home to Harris, I understand…”

There it is: his out. He can easily use his son as an excuse, despite the fact that Dustin and Suzie were perfectly capable of babysitting him. He can hightail it out of here and never look back. He can crawl into bed and feel sorry for himself for having to step foot in a godforsaken maternity ward again.

“Yeah. I can stay.”

Nearly an hour passes with Eddie’s head resting on your shoulder, relaying what Jeff told him. Identical knots form in your stomachs as the seriousness of the complications sets in. You don’t say a word as he speaks; you just try to shift without disturbing him. The cushion on the chair back, worn thin, digs into you uncomfortably, but you don’t dare move too much. His vulnerability is a deer that will scamper away at the slightest startle.

You think he’s fallen asleep until you feel his soft lips on your cheek, a muffled, “mine?” against your skin. You note his phrasing; it’s careful and unsure, a symptom of being in his own head for far too long.

“Of course I’m yours,” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his scalp. “What’s got you asking such silly questions?”

“I don’t like this.” It’s an answer and non-answer all in one.

“Being in a hospital?”

He shakes his head, frizzed curls tickling the crook of your neck. His forehead is sticky with cooled perspiration. “Waiting to see if the baby is okay.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the stomach, immediately hollowing you out. The last time he went through this, it was when Harris was being born. You can’t think of anything to say, so you just nuzzle in closer to him and exhale.

“Why do I feel like this?” Neither of you are sure if he’s asking you, himself, or the universe. “‘S not the same. Viv’s not using drugs; Jeff stuck around the whole time…”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s not how this stuff works, y’know?” You adjust your position so you can look into his eyes. The whites are stained red with worry and exhaustion. “Your gig got interrupted, just like when Harris was born. And there's uncertainty now, too. It’s normal for these kinds of memories to get dredged up.” Your palm rests on his cheek, thumb gently stroking the skin as you ask, “can you try to get some sleep?”

“But what if Jeff needs—”

“I’ll wake you up if he needs you,” you reassure him, settling back into the chair. You lean your head against the wall; the heaviness in your eyelids battles the anxious fluttering in your stomach, but it seems as though sleep is winning.

Eddie’s hand finds your forearm, rubbing up and down the gooseflesh that has appeared courtesy of the air conditioning blasting through the building. Shrugging off his jacket and resting the leather fabric over your shoulders, he can relax once he’s reassured that you’re comfortable. He assumes his previous position, using your shoulder as a pillow and falling asleep gradually, body jostling itself awake from the unfamiliar sleeping arrangement. Eventually, you can hear his soft snores; for the first time tonight, he’s peaceful.

You could tell him now, a whisper under your breath that he’s unlikely to hear. I love you, Eddie. I’m in love with you. Your lips part in anticipation, but you snap them shut. You’re delirious and overwhelmed; Lucas’s throwaway comment about Eddie being in love is rattling around your brain. If you say it and Eddie hears you…

You keep it to yourself for now, letting your body rest while still supporting Eddie’s head. Tomorrow is a new day, with a new life brought into the world. Love—if that’s even what this is—will have to wait until then.

The soft pink of breaking daylight streams through the windows when Jeff wakes Eddie up six hours later, shaking him by the shoulders.

“What the fuck?” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes. When he registers where he is and the potential urgency of the situation, he sits up straight, head filling with fuzziness from the sudden movement. He wouldn’t call the evening restful, but he’d managed to doze off for longer than he’d expected.

“It’s a girl!” Jeff announces, beaming from ear to ear. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, bursting with enthusiasm and emotion.

As soon as Eddie’s vision clears, he’s on his feet and pulling his best friend in for a giant hug. When he steps back, he realizes that he and Jeff sport matching misty eyes. “Dude, you’re officially a dad now. You have a daughter!”

“I have a daughter,” Jeff repeats incredulously. His eyes cloud with tears, and he blinks them away as he peers over at the empty seat next to Eddie. “Did your lady go home?”

Eddie swivels around, so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized he was alone. She left. She left without me; she didn’t want to stick around and deal with–

“Did Viv have the baby?” Your excited voice penetrates through his intrusive thoughts as you stroll in from the hallway. The makeup around your eyes is smudged; you’d tried to wipe some of it off in the bathroom, but water and thin hospital paper towels are no substitute for makeup wipes. “Sorry, I had to pee.”

Eddie smiles at the sight of you, still wearing his jacket. He hopes his sigh of relief is concealed by Jeff’s exuberance. “A girl. Six pounds, ten ounces.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Wanna meet her?”

“Of course!” You and Eddie begin following him down the corridor. “Wait, is Viv feeling up to having visitors?” You’re mildly ashamed to admit that, in your eagerness, you’d forgotten about the baby being breech and the possible c-section.

Jeff nods. “I think my daughter’s gonna be a gymnast, ‘cause she’d flipped herself back around between the appointment and last night.”

There’s no masking Jeff’s pride when he says my daughter, and it makes Eddie want to hug him again. “That’s amazing,” he murmurs. There’s a small pang in his heart, a bead of resentment that Harris’s birth didn’t go so smoothly, but it’s unimportant right now. His best friend just became a father, and he refuses to let his own hang-ups take away from this moment.

“Hi,” you whisper when Jeff opens the door to room 1007. Viv is propped up against pillows, exhausted but happier than she’s ever been before. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the hours-old bundle in her arms. “How are you?”

“Sore,” she replies truthfully, brushing her forefinger against her baby’s closed fist, “but the epidural was a lifesaver.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, unaware that your words have Eddie’s heart skipping a beat at the idea of you bearing a little Munson. “Is it okay if I hold her?” You don’t want to intrude on the new mother’s bonding time, but your insides turn to mush when the baby opens her tiny lips and yawns.

Viv carefully places the newborn in your arms, and you gingerly adjust to support her head. Eddie swears that you holding a baby, in that dress, wearing his jacket, is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “Did Jeff tell you her name?” Viv asks, stifling a yawn. When you and Eddie both shake your heads, she smiles and glances at her partner.

He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. Eddie forces himself to tear his gaze from the way you smile and coo at the baby and look over at Jeff. “Her name is Nicolette,” he starts, “but that’s a big name for a little girl, so we figured we can call her Ettie, and she’ll kinda…share a nickname with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, convinced he heard incorrectly. “You…I’m her namesake?”

“Mhm,” Jeff confirms, the grin never leaving his face. What neither you nor Eddie know is that they had had a different name picked out, and had fully intended on using it until the first time Jeff held their daughter. It filled him with a feeling of wholeness, of being complete, and it strangely had him thinking of his best friend. Without Eddie taking him under his wing, he might not even be here to experience this.

It was only by chance that he had stumbled upon Hellfire Club during his freshman year. He was running from Billy Hargrove and his posse, who were determined to beat the hell out of him simply because they could, and had ducked into the drama room to protect himself. Eddie had taken one look at his face and immediately recognized the expression of fear and defeat from being incessantly bullied. “You know how to play Dungeons & Dragons?” he’d asked, and when Jeff had managed a nod, he’d pulled up a chair and motioned for him to sit down.

Being Eddie’s friend, being part of something, gave him a reason to keep going. To live. And in that instant, he vowed to teach his child to extend kindness toward any misfits who need a place to be themselves.

“What about Nicolette?” he’d asked Viv. “Ettie for short.”

You turn to Eddie now, continuing the steady rocking rhythm that keeps Baby Ettie calm. “What do you say, Mr. Namesake? Wanna hold her?”

There’s a brief flash of panic that floods through his veins; he hasn’t held a newborn since Harris. He’d always worried about dropping him or tripping and falling. Truth be told, he was terrified until his son could hold his own head up.

It’s similar, but not the same, he reminds himself, shuffling even closer to you so you can safely transition Ettie into his arms. She stirs slightly in her swaddle but doesn’t cry.

“Hey, little lady,” he says, a delicate smile dancing on his lips. “I’m your Uncle Eddie. The coolest uncle you’ll ever have, for the record.”

“Harris is gonna love her,” you add, heart swelling at the imagery of him cuddling up to his newest cousin.

“Babe?” Viv pipes up from the bed. “Can you grab me something to eat? ‘M starving.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jeff turns to Eddie. “Come with me? I think Viv needs to feed Ettie, anyway.”

Viv extends her arms and Eddie begrudgingly hands the baby to her. Ettie’s so adorable and small, and it makes him yearn for the days when Harris was that little. Maybe not the sleepless nights or the lack of head control, but the scent of baby powder, the toothless smiles, the way he would fall asleep in Eddie’s arms to whatever song happened to be on the radio. Harris Munson might have been the only infant to be soothed by Twisted Sister.

The two men make their way to the hospital cafeteria, sneakers squeaking along the freshly-waxed linoleum tiles.

“I, um, I’m really proud of the way you stepped up for Viv,” Eddie says, eyes trained on the floor. “You’re a great partner. I feel like I should be taking notes.”

Jeff laughs, shaking his head. “That's where my expertise ends. I have no idea how this whole fatherhood thing works.”

“Wanna hear a secret?” Eddie leans in, shifting his weight onto one foot. He doesn’t wait for his friend’s response to divulge, “none of us do. We’re just…” he waves his hand aimlessly, “…figuring it out as we go.” And making plenty of mistakes along the way, he silently adds.

“I don’t know how you did this alone,” Jeff puffs out an incredulous breath. “I mean, I know you had Wayne’s help…” he trails off, not needing to further elaborate on the missing parent.

“Yeah, me either, man. I’m just glad I’m not alone anymore.”

Jeff stops walking, turning to face him. There’s the unmistakable look of pride that manages to make itself prominent despite his evident exhaustion as he says, “You really want this with her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie chuckles. “It’s like, for the first time, I’m not just thinking about just me or just Harris. I’m thinking about us as a family.” The dinnertime conversations, the gentle ribbings, the tenderness that seamlessly weaves itself into vulnerable conversations.

“She’s good for you,” Jeff agrees. “And you love her.”

“I mean, I—”

“That was a statement, not a question. You love her.”

And in a single breath, Eddie lets go of the fear he’s been clutching to like a life preserver. The one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to say aloud because it makes it so real, so fucking real.

“I love her.”

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @lost-in-the-stars03 @aysheashea @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonslittlemetalhead

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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zucchiyeni · 7 months

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✨IDOL DREAMMM✨

Some facts about him✨(and the group under the cut):

(2/3)

1. Main vocalist in the group and also the oldest/senior and the leader of the STAR SANSES.

2. Since hes the oldest, Dream is the most mature and experienced, with a more calming nature but on stage hes FIREEEE🔥🔥🔥 (hes also the one to look after his 2 juniors Blue and Ink)

3. His outfit's color code is Yellow and Black, and he resembles the sun and the stars.

4. Star sanses group has a happy, upbeat themed song but didnt lose its rockness and freedom.

5. Dream has an angelic voice, but when he got serious, he can sing dark songs sometimes.

6. The more positive the fans, the brighter his pupils get✨

7. At the end of every performance, he'll hand-shooting into the sky a small positive particle and it explodes beautifully like fireworks🎇 (it only works when he gets enough positivity)

This took HOURS of my life, idk if its worth it man☠️ but hes so beautiful-

Outfit design belongs to @tuxibirdie ✨

(this was made since July so the artstyle is so bad :")

#fanart #undertale #ut #undertale au #art #sans #utmv #undertale fandom #undertale fanart #sans au #dreamtale #dream sans #idol au #IDOL AU #idolau✨#idol dream

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mayolive-writes · 10 months

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The Love Plaza | Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x AFAB Reader

Summary: Needing to take a break from the long trip to college, you and Jungkook are forced to stay at the only lodging available within 70 miles, a love motel. And much to Jungkook’s dismay, there’s only one bed.

Wordcount: 4102

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Smut, Best Friends to lovers, Oneshot(?)

Warnings: Dry humping, mild awkwardness (these poor virgins), no penetration (this time), They’re so cute and down bad

Minors DNI

A/N: thought this would be a fun writing prompt to exercise my humor muscle. I often feel that my writing lacks comedic relief, so this was good practice! I wanted this to be goofy as shit, because friends to lovers is just that much sweeter when it’s goofy. I do have a couple other WIPs with this couple though!! One that’s fluffy and another that is significantly spicier.

Enjoy!!

The Love Plaza | Moonlight Trampoline Adventure | Labret

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You must be shitting me.

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Jungkook reads the sign in disbelief. The only lodging in 70 miles was a damned love motel. The bright red neon “18+” sign mocks him.

Unbelievable.

"Hell no, I can keep driving," Jungkook turns to you, there's no way you'd be okay with this.

"Jeon Jungkook, we've been driving on and off for 14 hours in a cramped truck with enough leg room for a toddler. We're both exhausted." You flash him a stern look, "we were honked at five times because we were going off the road!" With a light smack of his chest, you giggle, "besides, maybe they have a room with separate beds!" Your voice drips with sarcasm, calm about the entire situation.

Except you weren't. Inside, you were screaming. A fucking love hotel in the middle of nowhere? This is a sick joke. But despite your inner turmoil, you keep a humored face.

"You're sure?" Jungkook asks again, just to make sure.

Cocking your eyebrow, you give him an incredulous look, "the other option is getting into a crash. I don’t think coffee and 5-hour-energy can't help us now, bun."

He sighs. With every passing second, he can feel his heart losing years of life. This definitely isn’t healthy.

A bell sounds as you and Jungkook enter, catching the eye of a desk clerk. The shabby motel is surprisingly chic inside, with modern hardwood tile, and wallpaper patterned with soft wisteria, giving the space a fresh feeling.

"Hey there! Do you have a reservation?" The smile on the clerk's face is practiced, but falters when he sees the both of you in sweatpants and t-shirts.

He concludes on his own, no, you don't have a reservation.

As you both walk awkwardly up to the desk, the clerk continues, "just the two of you?"

Jungkook answers, "uh--yeah." You spot a basket on the counter and tap Jungkook on the shoulder, pointing.

It's full of different sized condoms in every bright color imaginable. Pink, blue, orange, yellow, purple, green.

You both hold back silly smiles, doing your utmost to keep cool.

"And do you perhaps--" you pick up a condom out of the basket and Jungkook chokes. He takes a moment before looking at the smiley clerk again, "have a room with separate beds?"

The clerk simply stares at Jungkook. Separate beds? In a love motel?

There's been very few moments in Jungkook's life when he was truly Flustered.

1. Confessing to Sandy Morrison in second grade.

2. His first kiss in 11th grade.

3. Figuring out that maybe he wasn’t totally straight.

4. Seeing you, his best friend and crush of at least 6 years, pick up a large condom, neatly packed in bright neon orange wrapping, and pocketing it for some ungodly reason.

Shit.

What are you doing?

You yourself don't know what the hell you're doing. There’s zero intention in your mind of using the condom, of course--not that you wouldn't like to. But you're just trying to have fun. What else do you do in a love hotel? With this thought, you promptly lose your shit when you sight a shelf near the clerk desk that displays a variety of items.

Lube, lace garters (neatly packed in plastic packaging, fancy!), satin blindfolds, fuzzy handcuffs (red, pink, blue, black, and orange!), and the cherry on top--a brochure of "The Best Positions For A Night of Passion!"

The cackle you hold in makes you shake. You hop over to the shelf and ask the clerk, "how much for these?" Pointing to the handcuffs.

The clerk is now thoroughly confused at the contrasting interests in both you and Jungkook, who is flushed in the face--both from embarrassment and holding his laughter in. "Um... They're all a dollar, the pamphlet is free."

The clerk looks back to Jungkook, "and, sir, I'm sorry, but we don't have rooms with separate beds," leaning forward to whisper, he continues, "if you guys are fighting, take the couch."

Well, it was worth a shot.

Once you're both checked in, Jungkook is about to walk away. That is, before he sees you go up to the desk clerk with one of each item that was displayed on the shelf.

Oh.

My.

God.

The clerk looks at Jungkook, his expression screaming, "dude, I can't believe you wanted separate beds!"

You happily stride beside Jungkook through the motel hallway, kinky bag in hand while he carries the luggage. You must be insane. Having finally reached room 40, you both realize that Jungkook’s hands are full of your bags. Awkwardly, you dig into his front pocket, feeling for the card.

"Um..." you look up when he speaks up, "it's in the other pocket.”

Oh. Oops.

You dig through his other pocket.

why are these damn things so dee--

What. Was. That.

Jungkook gasps.

You gasp.

Realizing what you’ve just done, you flinch away, “Oh my god! I’m so fucking sorry--" Jungkook is utterly speechless. This night just keeps getting more and more inconceivable. He says nothing as you dig more cautiously and finally yank out the godforsaken key.

One minute later you're finally in the room, with yours and Jungkook’s cheeks throbbing red.

Nice one, y/n.

As you both walk further in, you gasp. All other thoughts vanish at the sight.

Jesus Christ, what a night.

"Oh my god, Koo!" You drag him in faster and he sees you fall into a burst of laughter, and once he sees it too, promptly loses his composure at the ridiculous sight.

The bed is obviously heart-shaped, the sheets are red satin, and the blankets are pink velvet. The mattress is adorned with frilly heart pillows and lacy detailing, with a black headboard screwed into the wall (which is probably for the best).

You both share gazes of utter astonishment, only to fall over yourselves once more. The sheer ridiculousness of it all hitting you full force. Jungkook’s laughter only falters when he notices that there isn't a couch.

This leaves him with two options. Share the bed with you and sacrifice a sleepless night resulting in another 10 hours of hell tomorrow, or sleep on the plush black carpeted floor and spend the next week with achy muscles and a crick in the neck.

He's gonna have to sleep on the fucking floor.

Quietly, Jungkook goes into the bathroom, leaving you to your own devices.

One bed. God, what a cliché. Jeon Jungkook will not be brought down by some fanfic writer’s wet dream.

Despite the inconvenience of the motel, Jungkook is relieved as the hot water spews from the showerhead. He’s needed this all day. Each muscle becomes looser, and Jungkook finds himself relaxing as the sound of water hitting the floor puddles in his mind.

6 long years.

Jungkook was twelve when he realized he had a big, fat, disgusting crush on you. But he knew it wasn’t a big deal. Crushes pass and fade. It’s impossible not to have a crush at that age.

Jungkook was 16 when he realized it wasn’t just a crush anymore. The poor bastard was head over heels. Down for the count. Your smile made his heart burn—he’d do anything to see it. He’d pull up pictures of you on his phone on the rare occasion he couldn’t see you, just to make sure he could at least see your smile every day. He recalls feeling stupid for feeling so fuzzy about you all the time, but what’s shameful about wanting to see someone you love happy and smiling? Nothing.

At some point, it turned physical. Absolute hell. He felt complete and utter shame the first time he touched himself while thinking about you. It was deplorable how badly and how often he yearned for your lips on his body.

Throughout high school, Jungkook could barely look at anyone else other than you. Others could tell, most didn’t even try making a move on him. Except for his first kiss, taking place after prom in the parking lot. He remembers apologizing profusely to his date the next day, admitting that he just didn’t feel that way about them.

During graduation, he almost slipped. Almost confessed that he wanted to give it a shot. The longing was becoming too much. But no matter how close he came to finally spitting it out he’d always chicken out. You meant too much. And it felt�� wrong to spring it on you.

But this? He might break in two. He’s insane, he knows, but that millisecond where you accidentally touched him through his pants almost made him hydroplane, losing all traction on reality.

A knock on the door yanks Jungkook out of his murky thoughts. “If you use up all the hot water, I’ll personally annihilate you, Kookie.”

He can’t hold back a smirk, “yeah, yeah, I’m almost done.”

If hot showers were personified, you’d marry them. Specifically, the ones taken after your best friend, with his scent still lingering. This night has been one hell of a rollercoaster, and you take your time washing away the 14 hours of uncomfortable driving and cleanse your airways. Jungkook has always smelled like home to you. Years of friendship will do that to a person. Not even your own family can make you feel at ease like he does, with the way he shines. Bright enough to feel warm, but not so bright as to scare anyone away.

7 long years.

You were 11 when you realized you had a big, fat, disgusting crush on Jungkook. But you’d had countless meaningless crushes at that age, he was just a crush out of convenience, right?

Wrong.

You were 16 when you realized it wasn’t just a crush anymore. Something about Jungkook’s demeanor with you changed. He was always nice to you, but as Jungkook matured, his rough-and-tumble attitude crumbled away into something softer, cushier, and sweeter. It was unbearable. Whenever he put a secure arm around your shoulder, your heart would squeeze, and then release. First yearning, then comfort.

You wanted him. In more than one way. Never in a million years would you live down the shame from the first time you let him invade your thoughts alone at night. It wasn’t that long ago, really. Jungkook had turned 18, and He wasted little to no time in getting a lip piercing. You nonchalantly said it looked cool, but it kept you up that night.

It was becoming too much, but with graduation fast approaching you thought you’d finally have your out. You’d go off to college, and as much as you’d miss your best friend, you knew you needed to get away, and hopefully the love would fade with time.

Well, that was before you found out that Jungkook was going to the same college as you.

It was pure coincidence.

So here you are. Desperately trying to wash away your increasing desire on both fronts, romantically and sexually.

Regretfully, you step out of the shower into the cold bathroom air. In an instant you’re pulling Jungkook’s stolen hoodie over your head.

The room is dead silent when you leave the bathroom, and you spot Jungkook resting peacefully on the heart-shaped bed. His eyes are closed. It’s moments like these that make you want to give in and just tell him. So what if he doesn’t feel the same way? So what if he doesn’t fight back the urge to kiss you every day? So. Fucking. What.

He’s your best friend. That’s fucking what.

Losing him is not an option.

“Gook?” Jungkook is lightly startled, and you almost feel bad for waking him. “Hey, can you move over?”

“Huh?” He groggily looks around, then realizes, “Oh—yeah, yeah, just a sec.”

With sloth-like movements, Jungkook grabs a pillow and a blanket from the bed and lays them on the floor, but before he can slip down onto the carpet you stop him, “woah, woah, woah. What’re you doing?”

“Uhhh, going to sleep?”

“On the floor? We’ve shared a bed before, doofus.”

“yeah, when we were like, nine.” Jungkook retorts. Please, God. Don’t do this to him.

You know it’ll be hell sharing a bed with him, but you’d feel like shit making him sleep on the floor. “What’re you afraid of, catching cooties? Come on, bun, it’s not a big deal.” It is a big deal. It is such a stupidly big deal.

Jungkook takes a moment to read your eyes, only a feeling a twinge of awkwardness. With reluctance, he moves the blanket and pillow back onto the bed and climbs in first. He can do this.

You climb in behind him, settling in quickly. His back is to you, thank God, but warmth is radiating from his body. You can’t do this.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Focus.

Focus on the patter of the rain outside. Focus on the whirring of the ceiling fan above. Focus on the softness of the sheets. Focus on the warmth of the blankets. Focus on the smell of the detergent. Focus on the smell of Jungkook’s shampoo.

Wait, no. Don’t focus on that.

Hell freezes over in the time it takes for you to get comfortable.

It feels like infinity has passed by as Jungkook lays deathly still. One movement and he’ll shatter. The bed feels smaller than it looks. The proximity is too much. He can hear your deep breaths, can feel them in how your back lightly hits his with every intake of air. His body feels like it’ll start vibrating. His chest feels like it might implode. His thoughts are spiraling. He just wants you.

Eyes. Closed. Mouth. Closed. Mind. A work in progress. Sheep, count sheep.

1…

2…

3…

Just fall asleep. Please. You tell yourself.

Closing your eyes, you count the seconds as they pass by into minutes. You’re on minute 28 when a haze finally begins to ease you. But some prick outside of your room drops something heavy and you hear them giggling and walking away. You hope they have a terrible night’s sleep. Even if they weren’t planning on sleeping anyway.

Being conscious again, it’s impossible to ignore it. You can’t take it. You can’t. His warmth, his smell. His smile, his laugh.

Him.

Something possesses you. Chest aching painfully, heart beating mercilessly.

You whisper.

“Jungkook,”

“Yeah?” He curses the waver in his voice as your body shifts around to face his back. It takes him a moment before he has enough courage to turn around.

Your eyes.

Your eyes are big and wide, you look scared and excited all at once. “Jungkook, I…”

What are you doing?

You must be insane.

Just forget it.

But there’s no going back.

Do it.

Just say it.

Say it.

Fucking say it.

You like—

No.

He gently reaches for your hand beneath the blanket. The mingling of your fingers calms your mind, eases your breathing. “Thanks,” a whisper is sent across the small distance that separates the two of you. “How do you feel about me?”

Jungkook stares. Huh? That’s all? He chuckles, “We’ve been friends since we were like, four. It’s a good bet that I like you.”

You blink. What an absolute dunce. “No, you stupid asshat, how do you feel about me?” All this courage makes your mouth keep moving, “I mean… I feel something, and sometimes it seems like you feel something too. Can you like, tell me if it’s just me?”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide, his warm hand slipping away.

Oh. You’ve made a huge mistake.

Or so you think before he’s crawling to hover over you, hands beside your head. “You like me?”

It’s your turn for your eyes to bulge, your face burning at the position, one that you’ve imagined at least a million times. Head turning away, you reiterate, “Unfortunately.”

His head falls to your shoulder, “Oh my god. Holy shit, oh my God. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this shit, holy fucking shit.” You patiently wait for his rambling to stop, but you’re confused now. He’s on top of you. This man is on top of you but hasn’t said anything about how he feels yet.

The only natural response is to flick his forehead, of course.

“Hey, ouch!”

You exaggerate the clearing of your throat, “’holy shit, I can’t believe this shit.’ Isn’t a super direct answer, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re mean?”

“Aww did I hurt you fee—” His lips touch yours softly, but it doesn’t last long enough before he falls back to his side of the bed.

“It’s not just you,” Your hands find each other again.

A thick silence rests over you, despite your staggering heart. You want him to kiss you again, desperately. You push yourself to ask, “kiss me again? Maybe longer this time?”

Jungkook obliges wordlessly, leaning over to press his lips against yours once more. It’s slow, cautious, unsure. Your body feels tense, making it difficult to feel excited. Not sure what to do, you pull him closer by his sweatshirt, forcing your bodies to touch.

It feels like he’s melting into you. His lips are still shaky, but he pushes forward, placing his hand on your hip as you wrap a leg over his body. Creating even less distance between you. There’s a heavy breath.

“Um… okay, pause.” Your eyes meet. He nods and his fingers brush through your hair, playing with it casually and awaiting your next request. In this wide expanse of time, the tingle of him playing with your hair lulls your mind and heart.

“Again?”

Third time’s the charm, right?

With less hesitance than before, Jungkook finds your lips again, keeping his hand buried in your hair. This time, it’s more comfortable, and your lips tingle. Unsure of what to do with yourself, your hands grip his sweatshirt even tighter, and you find it in yourself to lean in closer, breath quickening less from nerves and more from pleasure.

How many times had you thought of this? Each scenario being different, passionate and fiery. And yet of the hundreds of daydreams, none of them were accurate. Despite the underlying awkwardness, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

All thoughts drift away when Jungkook’s lips leave your own, and before you can protest, they fall upon your neck. Far more astonishing is when he drags you on top of him, changing your positions.

A quiet gasp escapes. Woah, woah woah, buddy.

But your surprise doesn’t stop him from dragging his lips to the other side of your neck. You feel your legs go numb. With his stupid lips on your neck still, he asks, “Is this okay?”

There’s a lot of fumbling in your brain before you can answer, “mhm… I’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Oh really? How much of it?” This stupid bitch.

“Shut up before you ruin it, just keep going.” You have no clue, but to Jungkook, the breathlessness in your voice feels like kryptonite.

Slipping a hand beneath your hoodie, you jolt at his touch. “How far do you want me to go?”

You squirm, “Um… I don’t know yet, is that okay?”

“Good, cuz’ I don’t know either. We can stop at any point.” Becoming impatient, you only give him a nod before you guide his hand to slip further into your hoodie. The trail of his touch his tingly, unpredictable, exciting. The gentle nature in the way he feels you causes your body to take on a mind of its own as your hips sink into Jungkook, forcing a groan from his lips. “Fuck, do that again.” You follow his instruction, and he lets out another noise of pleasure. It sends a spark coursing through you, leaning in to kiss him again. It’s messier this time, the caress of his hand on your skin making the simple task of breathing complicated. Your hips push down again, and the bulge you feel beneath you makes you gasp. In quick succession, Jungkook’s fingers brush over the tip of your breast, and to your utter shock a whine flows out of your lips. Your legs lose more strength, and you follow instinct. One hand slips beneath Jungkook’s shirt, and the jerk has the audacity to cup your breast in retaliation, dragging another whine out of you. Your head falls to his neck, partially because you feel like jelly, and partially because you want to leave a string of kisses to match what he so generously left on you prior.

With each kiss your hands keep exploring his torso and chest. If he can play dirty, so can you.

Or so you thought.

He pulls the neckline of your hoodie down to gain access to your collarbone before leaning up and licking a bold stripe from your clavicle up to your neck, dragging your body closer all the while. And when he latches on to the crook of your neck, sucking hard and meeting your hips as they subconsciously grind into him, you release a moan.

“There you go.”

You see through hazy vision the smirk on his face. Different from any that you’ve seen in your countless years of friendship.

He does it again, latching onto a spot along your collarbone and sucking, harsh but loving. Easing the sting with another swipe of his tongue.

The room is soon a quiet orchestra of heavy breaths and stifled groans, whines, and moans.

Time feels nonexistent.

“I think I want you to touch me, koo--”

“You think?”

You whine, “God, I don’t know—I just need more.”

He groans, “Fuck, babe.”

His hands securely grip your hips, and guide them to grind down onto him, hard. His sweatpants barely getting in the way.

You gasp at first, but as he keeps guiding your hips you let out a moan, louder than the one before. You cover your lips, not wanting to be heard by anyone outside.

“shit babe, please don’t be quiet, please—”

As the rhythm of your hips continue, you lean down, resting your head beside Jungkook’s ear, hoping that the muffle of the pillows will prevent anyone other than Jungkook hearing you. You let go, letting your moans flow, as his hips meet yours. Each sound you let out into his ear brings Jungkook closer to his breaking point.

“Keep going Koo, I’m close.” You whisper, and the sounds Jungkook lets out sound almost painful.

“Fuck, I love you.” He whines. And with barley another thrust of his hips, he comes undone beneath you. He keeps his grip on your hips, continuing to bring your hips down onto him.

You can barely manage “I love you too, Koo” before you find release.

The butterflies haven’t subsided yet. You’re clean and warm in bed again with Jungkook, hands and hearts intertwined. This time sleep feels more possible, but you can’t help but want to talk.

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“some of that felt awkward, right?”

“Well, I don’t think anything is more awkward than when we were forced to take a bath together when we were toddlers just cuz’ we got all muddy in the rain.”

You giggle as Jungkook pulls you in closer against his chest. “Yeah, sex ain’t shit compared to that.”

The warmth lulled you into a comfortable silence. You can’t remember the last time you felt this content, and you never want it to end. Every night this is what you want. Hands fit together loosely, blanket tangled between your bodies.

Jungkook will process with time that this is his new reality. His new reality in which you fall asleep in his arms, in which he can pull you closer, hold you tighter, and play with your fingers as he drifts off into a dreamland that couldn’t possibly match what he has with you. No one knows what the future holds, but Jungkook sure as hell hopes that you’re a part of it.

This shaggy love motel did more good than he thought it would.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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mrcavill88 · 10 months

Text

My night in Hollywood

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Chris Evans x Henry Cavill x Male reader

Summary: Your first film role definitely has its ups and downs. A large pay check? Good. A kickstart to your career? Even better. But a night with three of Hollywoods leading men? The absolute best

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, daddy kink, pet names “little boy, baby, doll”, ass slapping, stripping, nipple playing, breeding kink, dick sucking, handjob, unprotected sex

Who knew being famous was so tough?

I’m constantly being bombarded by fans desperate for an autograph. The Hollywood life seems glamorous, and that it is, but not without its downside. The upside? All the hot actors in Hollywood, oh how I loved seeing a sexy man on screen. I recently landed a role on a film with some of Hollywoods leading men and holy cow was it a joyride. I walked into the hotel I would be staying at for the shooting of this film and who do I see as soon as I walk into the elevator? Henry Cavill, Sebastian Stan, and Chris Evans.

The scarlet color on my face is noticeable as I instantly start fanboying over the three buff men. “Hello there, you’re y/n right? I’m Henry, pleasure to meet you love”. He stuck his thick hand out and I shook it with much ebullience. I took my spot in the elevator, right in between Sebastian and Chris, feeling so small next to the 6 feet men.

What was in reality 30 seconds felt like 3 hours in the elevator. Sweat building up on my forehead as the men continued to spark conversation with me. My words fumbled and completely shaky. We reached my floor and I bolted out the doors and hastily walked to my room and instantly shut the door. I was a mess. My chest popping in and out of my body, a noticeable bulge in my tight pants. But as I went to change my clothes, a small envelope slid through my door.

“Reservation at Giovanni’s Italian cuisine for two, 7:30 pm at the luxury suite.

My baby y/n, please join me tonight for dinner, I would love to get to know you. See you soon, Sebastian”

I was fucked. Butterflies pacing through my stomach as the feeling of love and affection enveloped my soul. But was I gonna pass up this opportunity? Hell no. I checked the clock and it was currently 6:00, “how the hell did he reserve the place so quickly?” I thought. I rushed into my luggage and picked out a loose blue and white striped button up and white kakis which kinda showed off my ass.

I got into my car, put my sunglasses on and started driving to the restaurant. “What if he doesn’t like me?” “What if this is all a joke?” Thoughts filled my head as I headed to the restaurant, making me more nervous than I already was.

I walked in and it was the most classy restaurant I have ever been to. Red velvety floors covered the place with beautiful floral arrangements and classical music. “Reservation with Sebastian at 7:30, in the luxury suite,” I said to the hostess. “Right this way please,” she replied as we walked up the extravagant stairs into the luxury suite. She opened the door and

There he was

Waiting for me in a tight black polo shirt that complimented his rippling biceps, and jeans that were definitely, tight. “H-hi Sebastian,” I said with a trembling voice. He walked up to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Hey y/n, I’m so happy you came tonight, I hope you like this place cause I really wanted to have a great time tonight, please sit.”

I sat down in the expensive chair and couldn’t help but notice the beautiful view from the window. “Wow! This place is so nice, I can see the whole city from here!” Sebastian grabbed my hand. “Yeah it’s nice but I think I like what I see from here more,” biting his lip. I instantly started blushing, biting my lip to try and calm it down but the redness of my cheeks just got more obvious. I was completely fucked, in a desperate way to change the subject, “So, I wanna try this ravioli they got here, I heard it’s amazing”, I said trying to change the subject. “Yeah let me order, I already know what I’m getting”.

Sebastian ordered our food and I was set for the best date, and the first date, of my life. Who knew a celebrity could be so down to earth and so cordial? But of course, the physical and, sexual appeal was crazy as the Romanian man was extremely romantic.

“Oh, well I’m stuffed, we should get going. This food is pre-paid so don’t even worry about it. Should I take you home?” “Oh thanks but I drove here so I think I’ll be fine,” I answered. “Are you sure?”, he asked with a serious somewhat dour look on his face. “Uhm, actually, maybe you should,” I said nervously hoping he wouldn’t be offended.

We cleaned up and left the restaurant, he took me into his expensive car and started driving back to the hotel. Something felt off, he was being extremely seductive and touchy, grabbing my thigh and rubbing my chest. Did I like it? Of course.

I walked into the hotel and entered the elevator with him just to see two familiar faces once again, Chris and Henry.

“Oh y/n! Great to see you again! Looks like you’ve had some fun with my friend Seb huh?” Chris said with a funny expression. I couldn’t help but nod and gulp as I entered the elevator with the three men.

We were going up and all of a sudden, Sebastian presses the emergency stop button. I was completely confounded, not knowing what was going on. I tried to push the button again but the three men cornered me in this godforsaken box.

“What does this little boy think he’s doing?” Henry asked as he stroked my hair. I started to sweat, and slightly panic. “W-why’d you stop the elevator?” I said hoping this just was some kind of stupid joke. I reached for the button again until Sebastian covered my mouth with his large hand and pinned me up against the wall.

I didn’t even have time to say anything before my clothes started coming off. They started kissing and biting my body relentlessly and I couldn’t help but moan and whine. “Oh baby I wanna fuck you so bad,” Sebastian said as he and Chris started removing my shirt and pants, leaving me in my tiny little spandex.

“Lay in my lap doll,” Henry said gesturing toward me. I felt so exposed and fragile in the moment. “Count” he said as he smacked my ass cheek. I screamed and jolted a little at the surprising pain and arousal that came from it, “o-one” *SMACK* “t-two” *SMACK* “t-three”. One slap quickly became 15 as Henry continued slapping my ass cheeks until they were bright scarlet and my cheeks were soaked in tears.

“What a good boy you are, now let daddy make you feel good,” Sebastian sad as he grabbed my and gagged my mouth. I was in heaven. Henry started twisting and teasing my nipples as Chris shoved his fingers in and out of my hole. Sebastian rubbing up against my body and his dirty talk made me more aroused than I should’ve been. Cock twitching and my skin soaked in sweat. “Daddy!” I whined as my body was being violated by three sexy men. “Oh the things you do to me baby, now open up for daddy”.

Sebastian whipped out his 10 inch cock and teased my hole making more unholy noises leave my mouth. And all of a sudden, *THRUST* his dick was sliding in and out my hole at a rapid pace. Henry shoved his dick into my mouth and started fucking my face. I moaned on his dick sending vibrations up his cock. “Ugh f-fuck baby you’re so naughty. In the midst of all this sexual pleasure, Chris shoved his dick in my hand. “Come on baby, make me cum,” he said as I started jerking him off.

I was gonna lose it, my body completely drowned in pleasure. “D-addy, I c-can’t take it! I’m gonna c-cum daddy!”. “C-come on baby, w-wait for your daddies, don’t be a s-selfish little b-boy”. At those words, my cock shot a load of cum onto Sebastian’s broad chest. Sebastian felt my hole tighten around his cock and came in my hole, filling my walls with his warm and sticky baby batter. I was completely cum drunk. I collapsed onto Henry’s chest. The three men held me in their strong embrace as the night neared its end, nothing could have ruined this night, except the fact that we were in a damn elevator.

THE END

Thanks for reading everyone hope y’all enjoyed it! (I know it kinda sucks)

#Henrycavill #chris evans #sebastian stan #henry cavill x y/n #chris evans x y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #gay #gaysmut #henry cavill x male reader #chris evans x male reader #sebastian stan x male reader #fanfic

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dizscreams · 1 year

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“MY LOVER IS A DAY I CAN’T FORGET”

— Jack Champion ★

PAIRING: Jack Champion x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Jack and you at the beachhhhh very very fluffy

A/N: I was coloring, I thought of Jack, this idea was born, I went to my room and I wrote a fic, enjoy :)

TAGS: @ourloveisgod23 @xyzstar @wenvierismycomfort @h34rtsformilli @beary-rambles @aesthetixhoe @dizzyscreams @gabbylovesreading @jakesgirll @c8rdigan @wekiamo @aqellano @brakke-dino @mbankfav @iloveneilperry @maybankfr @ashlesys-blog

Jack and your other Scream 6 cast-mates had dragged you out for a beach day. You were laying out on a towel in the sand, soaking in the sun. While the others were playing around in the ocean. You were too busy coloring in your marine animal coloring book to notice your boyfriend running up behind you.

“Babyy, I missed you,” Jack exclaimed while laying on your back since you were on your stomach. “Jack, you’re heavy and you’re cold! Get offfff!”

He giggled and kissed your head, “No, you’ve been out in the sun all day. Come get in the water with us.” He shook his wet hair like a dog that had just been in the water. You turned over off of your stomach, causing him to move and sit down beside you. You were now sitting, facing him. “I like it here, it’s calm and peaceful. And not cold.”

He playfully rolled his eyes, “Is that your only reason for not going in the water.” You pretended to think about it for a moment, “Yes.” You gave him a sarcastic smile and he pouted. “Pleaseee, just for a few minutes!” You scoffed, “A few minutes would then turn into a few hours.” He hummed and his eyes found their way to your coloring book, “What were you coloring this time?”

“Just a whale.”

“It’s pretty.”

You nodded and watched as he put the book back in its rightful place before scooting closer to you. “It’s not that cold once you get used to it.” He examined your features for a moment and put his hand on your cheek. He rubbed his thumb across and tilted your head slightly. “Have you even put on sunscreen?”

“Obviously.”

“Really? You look like a lobster.”

“Jack!” You pushed his shoulder and he laughed while kissing your head, “I’m sorry. You look beautiful.” “Am I burnt?” “No I was just messing with you,” he said softly and that’s how you knew he was being genuine. “Thank you, can I go back to coloring now?”

“Hmm,” he put his finger on his chin and tilted his head up, “Let me think for a minute.”

“Okay, Jack.” You rolled your eyes and looked around the beach as you waited. Jack took this opportunity and grabbed your waist while standing up, almost falling over in the process. He put you over his shoulder more comfortably while you yelled, “Jack! Put me down!” You hit his back a few times and he giggled, “Nope.”

You lifted your head and looked at where he was walking to and you saw him walking closer and closer to the ocean. “If you throw me in there I’m breaking up with you.” He chuckled and tapped the back of your thigh, “I’m sure you will, sweetheart.” You heard Masons voice as clear as day which signaled that Jack was in the water now, “Hey Champion, why do you have her over your shoulder like a rag doll?”

You and Jack giggled and he uncomfortably repositioned you so he was now carrying you bridal style. “No reason!” He shouted back and you heard Devyn and Jenna laugh. Everyone knew what was about to happen but you held onto his neck for dear life. “Jack, please. Spare me.”

He pretended to throw you forward as a joke causing you to yelp. He walked farther into the water trying to find somewhere that wasn’t as shallow. “You need to just relax.” You looked at the grin on his face and shook your head, “Why are you telling me to relax as you’re about to throw-” Your sentence was cut short as Jack threw you into the water and then quickly jumped in to join you.

When you came up to the surface you splashed him and he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned in closer to your face. “I hate you,” you said quietly. You were flustered at the close proximity, even if he was your boyfriend and this was a normal thing for him to do. He suddenly kissed you and you wasted no time in wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulled away from the kiss with a smirk, “You love me.”

You look away from him trying to hide your smile and he poked your side. You giggled and pointed towards the others, “We should probably head that way.” He nodded with a smile and took your hand, walking you both through the water. Luckily the waves weren’t very rough today. Once you made your way over there you greeted and talked with them for a bit before you leaned into Jacks side.

“You tired already baby?” You nodded and pulled away from his side. You went in like you were about to hug him but instead pushed Jack into the water causing everyone to laugh, including yourself. You tried to get out of the water as fast as you could before he could catch up to you. “Y/n! Get back here!” You could hear his laugh so at least he wasn’t upset with you.

As soon as you made it back to shore you heard the splash of his footsteps close behind you. You squealed as you felt his arms pick you up again. “Jack no!” He laughed and put you down. He kissed your head and walked with you back to your towel where all your stuff was. “Are you gonna color again?” You shook your head, “You want to go back to the hotel with me? I’m tired.” You asked looking up at him.

He looked back towards the ocean to see his cast mates playing in the water and then looked back at you, “Lets go.” He offered his hand for you to take and you gladly did. “They’re gonna kill us for leaving our stuff here for them to clean up.”

He chuckled, “Probably.”

#dizzy writes?! 😵‍💫#definitely not proofread #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #ethan landry x reader #spider soccoro x reader

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starry-eyes-love · 3 months

Text

Nursing

Masterlist

Pairings | Husband Joel Miller x Wife F!Reader, No Outbreak, AU, One-shot

Summary | Your six week old daughter, Isabell, is fussy and won’t settle down enough to nurse from you. Joel, being your soft and understanding husband (and an experienced father) soothes you and shows you how to relax. Who knew seeing Joel sing to Isabell, and whispering soft praises into your ear would help calm your fears at being a mom.

Word Count: 2.7 K

A/N: This is a super cute, soft, and fluffy story. This one has been living in my head for a long time because well, being a mom sometimes is super hard. And no one talks about the difficulties with feeding your little one. I just wanted a cute fluffy story with Joel being the best husband in the world. Enjoy :)

Warnings | soft!Joel, fluffy!Joel, fluffy story, descriptions of struggles with feeding (nursing), Joel reassures you and tells you how great of a mom you are, age gap (but no specific age stated), slight body description but nothing too specific (reader just had a baby 6 weeks prior), Joel sings a lullaby, original character reference (Isabell, your daughter), this is just super fluffy so enjoy!

“Oh, I know baby, I know.” Joel said, slowly soothing his daughter while sitting down in the rocking chair. “I know, the world’s so big and scary, and you’re just so little. It’s okay, daddy’s here honey, daddy’s here.” You watched Joel slowly quiet Isabell as he gently rocked her. He slowly hummed to her the same lullaby that he hummed to Sarah when she was a baby.

You sat in the room that was washed with soft pastel colors, the warmth of the June sunrise gently creeping in through the half shaded window. It was early, the world not fully awake to start the day yet. You wished for a few more hours of sleep, something that you haven’t seen much of these past 6 weeks. You sat gently rocking back and forth in an old sewing rocker, one that was handed down through the generations of your family. The gentle creaks that it provided soothed you. It reminded you of the days when you were little, when you were the one that was fussy and needed to be gently rocked back and forth. Now, many years later and an adult woman, it was your turn to try to soothe the fussy child in your arms, Isabell, your daughter.

The tiny bundle of joy that you held in your arms was the reason for the lack of sleep that you and Joel had received these past six weeks. And right now, she was struggling to calm and soothe herself yet again. She was exceptionally fussy at the moment, struggling to nurse, and she was letting the entire world know how frustrated she was.

Sighing at your daughter you softly said, “You know little one, for someone so small you sure do fuss a lot. You’re just like your daddy, always fussing, aren't you?” With that statement your daughter opened her eyes and looked up at you, tears streaming down her little chubby cheeks. You gently touched her head, full of hair that was dark and curly, just like her father. She was a blessing, a hard blessing at that.

Joel and you had been married for eight years, trying to have a baby for the last six. You two didn’t think that it would happen, especially after all the tests were done. They couldn’t figure out what was causing your infertility issues. Then somehow by some miracle, Joel convinced you to go on vacation with just him for two weeks. It was everything that you two needed, a nice and calm relaxing vacation; one where you had conceived your daughter by the end.

Joel and you had gone back and forth over names for months after you found out you were pregnant. The two of you couldn’t decide on a girl's name. Every name that the two of you came up with just didn’t feel right. You didn’t want to know the sex of the baby ahead of time, you wanted it to be a surprise.

Joel was hell bent on wanting a boy, swearing up and down that you were pregnant with a boy. Then when your baby came out, after 18 hours of hard labor, you watched your husband absolutely melt at the news that he gave you a little girl. You’ve never seen your husband cry so much in his life, tears of joy as he held his little girl for the first time. When she was all dried off, he handed her to you while he kissed you gently on your head, saying that God fulfilled his promise to him. At the time you raised your eyebrows at your husband, as Joel wasn’t a religious man. But it was within that moment that the name Isabell came into existence. Isabell, name meaning God’s promise. Both of you felt like her name fit the entire situation perfectly. She was your miracle from above, one that you thought you two would never be able to have.

You were so lost in thought, remembering your daughter's birth as you continued to gently rock back and forth, not noticing Joel standing in the doorway. After a moment you heard him say, “I don't fuss darlin’. If anyone fusses, it's you baby.” He was leaning up against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and letting out yet another yawn. His curly hair was unruly and messy, looking like he just woke up. He had on black sweatpants with a gray T-shirt, with faded words of ‘Miller Construction’ on the front of it. It was the same shirt he had on when you first met, when he proposed to you, and when you conceived your daughter. Now instead of being new, it was worn but had a ton of memories associated with it. And it was your favorite shirt to steal to sleep in. It was then that you realized you weren't the only one not getting enough sleep recently, especially at the worn out look on your husband's face.

Your husband, the amazing and caring man that he was, helped you out as much as possible with tending to your daughter. He was an experienced father, two girls that he still cared for. Sarah, his oldest, was biologically his and now was 16. Ellie, who was his adopted daughter, was now 14.

In Joel's eyes, Ellie was just as much his daughter as Sarah was. Ellie's parents, his best friends, had died in a car accident when Ellie was 10. Joel had immediately taken her in, looking after her, and had requested to be her legal guardian. He was originally Ellie’s godfather, was present when she was born, and loved her like she was his own. A year after her parents had died, after all the adoption red tape was finally finished, Ellie Williams officially became Ellie Williams Miller, his daughter. It was Ellie's decision to take his last name on adoption day, still keeping her original last name with it.

“No Joel. I don't fuss, but you do, a lot.” You said, teasing your husband gently.

Being a new mother was hard, it wasn’t like the storybooks that you remember reading as a child. No story talked about the lack of sleep, the emotional ups and downs, the worry of not knowing what to do, and the anxiety of being home alone with a brand new baby that you didn’t know personally as your husband worked long hours. Intimacy wasn’t present at all for either of you, exhaustion being the biggest culprit.

‘No sex for six weeks’ the doctor had told you on discharge day from the hospital. At first you were upset at that order, but now, six weeks later, you have no idea how you would have had sex anyways.

Your body was a complete mess, bleeding for the majority of the past six weeks, something that was normal after delivery. Your hormones were chaotic, and you still looked pregnant as your womb slowly shrank back down to normal size. Sex was the furthest thing from your mind, and your husband’s too. But now by the end of the six weeks, you finally were settling into a routine. Life was 100% different, that was for sure, but you were finally finding comfort in it.

You were shook from your thoughts once again by the baby in your arms starting to cry, upset at the world about something. “Shhh, it’s okay honey” you said, picking her up and patting her gently on her back. After a few pats she immediately started screaming and crying loudly. Tears started to gather at your waterline, frustration at not being able to soothe her.

“Gimme her,” Joel said gently, stepping forward after seeing you get upset. You got up from the rocker willingly and handed him your daughter, tears streaming down your face.

“Aw now come on baby girl, what’s the matter?” he said, gently bouncing Isabell in his arms. It was in that moment that she let out a wail, telling her father, and the world, that she was upset.

Joel looked over at you and said, “Breathe mama, it’s okay” as he tended to his fussy daughter.

“I don’t get it Joel, I’ve tried everything. I keep thinking that she is hungry, but she won't nurse.” You said, crying right along with your daughter.

“Do ya have a fresh bottle for her darlin’?” he asked, rubbing gentle circles on his daughter's back, trying to soothe her as she continued to cry. You went to warm up a bottle of breast milk.

The first two weeks of feeding Isabell was hard, she wouldn’t always stay latched as you tried to nurse her. The doctor had told you to get a bottle that mirrored a human nipple, to try to get her to eat as she struggled eating in the first few weeks of life. You took her struggle personally, feeling like you were failing as her mother. But your doctor, and Joel, had both reassured you that this struggle was very common for babies in the first few weeks of life.

That’s why everyone said nursing was so difficult. Not only did it physically hurt to have her feed from you every three hours for the first six weeks of her life. But the hardest struggle was whether she would be able to stay latched on. For you, nursing was something that you wanted to do but this constant struggle was making it hard, and making you very upset. You just wanted to feed your baby, and not feel like a big fat failure as her mother. That was something the storybooks never seemed to mention. Oh the joys of motherhood.

As you handed Joel a bottle of warmed up breast milk, you watched him try to soothe his daughter. Joel was an experienced father, and always knew just what to say or do.

“Oh I know baby, I know.” Joel said, slowly soothing his daughter while sitting down in the rocking chair. “I know, the world’s so big and scary, and you’re just so little. It’s okay, daddy’s here honey, daddy’s here.” You watched Joel slowly quiet Isabell as he gently rocked her. He slowly hummed to her the same lullaby that he hummed to Sarah when she was a baby.

When he got Isabell to quiet down enough to feed her, he gently placed the bottle by her mouth, encouraging her to latch. She slowly accepted the nipple, quieting once she got some milk in her tummy. All you could hear now was the gentle creaks of the chair, and her gentle suckling noises as she was fed.

“There you go baby, just like that.” Joel said, rocking his daughter as he fed her from the bottle of your breast milk, gently singing the lullaby now outloud.

“Bye-o-baby, bye-o-baby, bye-o-baby, bye-o-baby bye. Daddy still loves you, daddy still loves you, daddy still loves you, my bye-o-baby bye.”

As you sat there and watched your husband feed his daughter, you started to cry, but this time it was tears of joy. Joel was the most tender and loving man you had ever seen. So patient and understanding, and so soothing, not only to your baby girl but also to you. “Ya wanna try to nurse her again baby?” Joel said quietly, looking up at you sitting in the corner, arms hugging yourself.

“No you got her to eat and-”

“C’mon darlin’, let's see if she'll nurse again” he said, standing and gently walking down the hall to your shared bedroom. You quietly followed, not wanting to disturb the sleeping teenagers in the room down the hall. You had no idea how those two girls could sleep through all of the wailing your daughter just did, but teenagers could sleep anywhere.

Once you got into your shared bedroom, Joel motioned towards your side of the bed and said, “Take off your top darlin’, and sit down. Don’t sit against the headboard though, I’ll give her to ya once you’re situated.”

You raised an eyebrow at Joel, wondering what he had planned for you, but you followed his instructions without question. You learned quickly with Joel that when he gave you parenting advice, especially with a newborn, that you should listen to him. He raised Sarah by himself, since she was a newborn as her mother had died a week after giving birth to his daughter. You didn’t know much of that story, something that Joel never wanted to talk about, so you didn’t press him. You couldn’t imagine being a young single dad, alone with his first daughter, trying to raise her by himself after he just lost his wife.

“Ok, I’m all set” you said, while looking over at Joel who was swaying side-to-side gently, holding Isabell.

“Ok little one,” he said, speaking to his daughter. “You need to eat from your mama, cause your mama is only trying to help you. I love feeding you baby girl, but mama needs to nurse you right now, ok? Daddy will stay right here though, so no fussin’.”

Joel slowly handed Isabell to you after taking the bottle out of her mouth. She immediately started to fuss. You tried to silence her by getting her to latch onto you right away, but once again, she wouldn’t latch on, so you couldn't nurse her. You were just about ready to give up when you felt your husband grab you by the waist and pull you backwards, situating you hard against his chest.

Joel had removed his shirt before he sat down behind you, his back was now against the headboard. He wrapped one of his arms around your side gently, holding Isabell’s head as he whispered in your ear. “Baby, ya gotta relax, you’re so tense. C’mon mama, breathe.” Joel was slowly kissing you on your neck and bare shoulder, attempting to get you to relax.

“You’re an amazing mom,” Joel said, whispering in your ear. “It’s okay to be scared, honey. Hell, I'm still scared, even with raising Sarah. But that’s normal with being a parent. But this honey, ya gotta relax and trust in your instincts. Isabell knows what she needs, baby. She knows how to nurse, she wants to nurse. But ya gotta relax so she can. She’s hungry mama, and she needs your milk. So give her what she needs.”

Joel was gently holding Isabell’s head at your nipple, trying to encourage her to latch. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. When you exhaled you tried forcing yourself to relax, to trust the guidance from your husband. As soon as you relaxed, you felt your daughter latch on where she finally started to nurse. When you opened your eyes, you looked down at her and saw her feeding from you. She had the most beautiful big eyes that you’ve ever seen. You sighed a content sigh, especially when you heard her make the cutest little suckling noises that she did.

“She looks just like you with those big eyes,” Joel said, holding you close to his chest and kissing you tenderly on the cheek. You were silently crying, emotions taking over you once again. You felt Joel wrap his arms around your waist and slowly massaged your belly, while gently brushing away the tears from your cheek.

“You carried her right here for nine months,” Joel said, laying his large palm over the lower part of your belly. “You gave me the best present in the world, another beautiful baby to love. So stop your fussin’, thinking that you’re not a good mom. Baby, your body has already done miracles. And I'm damn proud to be your husband, and the man that gave you her, our little miracle.”

You looked back at your husband, at the tenderness that he was giving you, lip quivering slightly. Joel leaned forward, gently kissing you on the mouth. You parted your lips and allowed his tongue to have access to your mouth. He gently massaged his tongue with yours; slow, delicate, and in no rush to advance it into something else. His kiss said everything to you, that he was proud of you as a mother, wife, and person. But most of all, this kiss told you that you were his true soulmate, and that he loved you unconditionally. When he pulled back, he gently wiped the tears from your eyes once again. He pecked your forehead before leaning back against the headboard and taking you with him.

You sat there, your bare back to his bare chest, breathing together in unison, as your daughter quietly nursed from you. You couldn’t believe that 12 years ago, a simple ‘hello, what can I get you’ in a coffee shop would lead to having a family with the man behind you. It’s been a long and hard road, but one that was worth it in the end.

End story

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze @its-always-420-on-the-moon @kirsteng42

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itoshi-s · 1 year

Text

anon requested: rin + "why do you keep marking me up? it's hard to mask and people are staring..." // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wk: 1.5k. cw: mildly suggestive, fem coded reader, mention of bruises/hickeys, fluff. rin wears a panda headband i want to eat him whole

standing in front of your full-width bathroom mirror at 6:43 am, eyes still bleary with sleep and hair sticking out in odd directions, you think you just might actually hate your boyfriend.

you know he doesn't exactly mean to do it - but all sense of rationality is long forgotten when the bright violet, reddish bruises are the first thing you notice in your reflection.

with a sigh, you put your fluffy headband on, keeping every hair out of your face, then start applying makeup. you'll have to be quick with it this time, too - you have hit snooze once or twice, and you certainly don't want to be late, yet still have something else than your face to spend time on camouflaging.

the soft playlist you've put on helps calm some of the annoyance that bubbles in your chest as you hum along under your breath, curling your lashes and applying a final coat of mascara. you put on your lip gloss, smacking your lips as you stare at your reflection, and as the initial bleariness of waking up dies down, you actually feel more amused than irritated upon the sight of hickeys littered down your neck.

rin's a possessive lover. he wants - needs - to feel every inch of your skin under his large, roaming hands. he grabs and kneads the flesh, holds it in a tight grip when he manhandles you however he seems fit. when in the moment, rin doesn't pay any mind whether it leaves marks - in fact, there are times when he wants it more than anything, like when you get home from a party looking just a tad too pretty and the green eyed monster creeps up on him. just want to mark up what's mine, the teal-eyed would mumble, laying on his tummy as he glares at you childishly.

you adore his passionate nature - feel on top of the world and like the most beautiful thing to exist when he gives you that look, overcome with love and desire.

but, for the love of god, you appreciate your sleep and sanity just as much, you think as you dab on the third layer of thick concealer, stacked on top of color corrector that really fucking struggles to balance out the purple hues.

you check the time, realizing you've got to leave the house in half an hour now, and that rin's alarm should go off in a minute or two.

as if on cue, there's a pair of footsteps approaching the bathroom door, then they're pushed open to reveal your boyfriend in all his sleepy glory.

shirtless and rubbing at his eyes, rin yawns as he makes his way over to your side of the bathroom counter. he circles an arm around your waist, broad chest feeling warm against your fluffy robe, and he sighs as his head drops to your shoulder.

"hi," rin mumbles, voice hoarse and gravelly with sleep as his lips move against the bare skin on your neck. he kisses a birthmark there and gives your waist a squeeze, turquoise gaze meeting your reflection in the mirror with an appreciative hum. "y'look nice, baby." a pause, "no eyeliner today?"

you just give a gentle shake of your head, eyebrows twitching to furrow and lips almost curling into a smirk. he's so, so clueless - it's endearing, in a way, you think as you watch him slip away and stand by the second sink.

"mm. don't have time for it today." you say softly, stuffing your powder brush back into your makeup bag and zipping it close.

perhaps your voice sounds a bit too quiet, or the exhaustion is still prominent on your features despite the glowy products you so carefully put on, cause rin's eyes drift back to life and gleam with worry.

he turns the faucet on and fiddles with the temperature, giving your face an once-over in the mirror before turning to the sink again.

"oh." he nods, fingers reaching for the fluffy, panda-eared headband you took off barely a few seconds ago. pulling it on with ease, rin wants to say something more, but dismisses it and goes to wash his face instead.

the water, as nice as it feels on his face, doesn't wash off any of this funny, uneasy feeling. is something wrong? are you mad at him? do you feel bad and shouldn't go to work today? (he will make you call it off if that's the case. there's no way you're going in sick.)

there's many possibilities, and he won't be certain until he asks. dabbing his face off with a towel, rin clears his throat to speak before turning to you - but you beat him to it.

"rin," you begin, voice sounding so resigned it makes his brows knit together. "why do you keep marking me up?"

blinking not once, not twice, but perhaps a few times too many, he does look so clueless, so silly, you have to bite back a laugh. you're supposed to be annoyed with him - but how can you really, when he's just doing all that out of bottomless, unconditional love?

continuing, "it's hard to mask and people are staring..." you trail off, giving yourself a glance in the mirror, head tilting to show more of the poorly concealed marks, as if to prove your point.

you look back at rin, who now doesn't look as puzzled anymore. instead, there's a slight frown settled in his pretty features, long lashes still damp and stuck together, lips pulled into a tight line that almost resembles a pout.

the black, fluffy ears sticking out from messy green hair really sell the look, though.

"what do you mean?" rin argues, and you go to sigh, crossing your arms. "you cover these up?"

your eyes widen, snapping over to the striker's face again. for a second, you think you've misheard him - but in fact, he does look as serious as it gets. your heart jolts with shock, flabbergasted at how truly, utterly shameless he is.

"rin!" you gasp, finger pointing to the side of your neck in exasperation. "of course i do! i can't go around work like that," you insist, tugging the hem of your robe to the side.

the man scowls, eyes trained on the faint pinks and purples. "well i don't see anythin' wrong with it," he deadpans and your shoulders slump in defeat. rin turns to face the mirror again, reaching for his toothbrush.

"everyone else does," you whine, pulling at the tie around your waist and sliding the robe off. you go to hang it up, then reach for the clothes you've neatly folded and laid on the counter last night. "i... like the way they look. and feel." you start bashfully, eyes trained on the ground when you step into your dress pants and swiftly pull them up your legs.

rin smirks at that, just slightly before you can see it and smack it right off his face.

you're quiet for a second, and rin takes the time to trail his eyes down your body as he sticks the toothbrush in his mouth. well, to be fair, there are quite a few bruises littered all over, some darker than others. there's a bite mark-shaped one, too, right on the swell of your breast, which you go to cover with the skin tight long sleeve you put on next.

(he fears your reaction when you go to look into the mirror and see it peeking out the neckline.)

it might irk you, and make people uncomfortable or amused, even - but he loves the way they look on your skin, a sharp contract to the smooth, glowy canvas, momentarily stained with his love that runs oh, so feverishly through every single cell in his body.

isn't it only natural he wants to find an output for it and eventually mark what's his?

"but-" you continue, fixing the gold charm between your breasts, the small, zirconia-studded R glimmering under the bathroom lights. "i'd appreciate it if you... kept it down." you mumble, looking up at rin again and your gaze meets his in the mirror.

rin rolls his eyes dramatically, lips quirking up into a ghost of a smile as he brushes his teeth. perhaps, he can try and opt for more... hidden places. it's not ideal - the need to showcase his claim on you still as strong as ever - but not everyone can pay so little mind to what others think of him like he does. certainly, you can't. not with your line of work, either.

he knows, and that's why it almost feels funny when his heart thumps in his chest with refusal. maybe he is a little immature, in a way - but maybe, it's not such a bad thing at all. not when it's your love that makes him feel like a kid, carefree and playful again.

"fine." rin grumbles, words muffled around the brush as he works it on the back of his teeth, sending you an amused look that has your tummy doing flips. "will hav'ta find other ways to mark my territory, though."

#୨୧ 𝑁𝑂 𝐿𝑈𝐾𝐸𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 #✧.* zaria writes #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock imagines #blue lock scenario #bllk imagines

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taetr4ck · 3 months

Text

from home, to home

yang jeongin x reader, 1.2k words, no warnings — fluff, yearning

a/n : happy jeongin day !! sorry for not posting it on his birthday (it’s already february 9th in my country) :( happy iyen birth aaaaa i almost banged my head against the wall writing this one RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“for the passengers of flight A0251, please proceed to gate 6,”

upon hearing the announcement, you grasp the handle of your luggage tighter — trying to calm the anticipation from the surprise you prepared for Jeongin. it’s past dinnertime, and by the time you arrive at your destination, it’ll be past midnight.

being countries away from your lover is no easy feat. the relentless longing to catch a glimpse of their face, to feel their touch, and to bask in their presence and embrace burdens your heart, magnifying the pain of being apart.

before the plane takes off, you message him. it is a casual text, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

“baby, i’m going out tonight. i’ll call you after a few hours, okay?”

“yup, be safe and have fun :)” he replies.

you suddenly laugh at yourself. going out, huh? more like going out of the country.

upon arriving at your destination, it is already 2 in the morning. the streets bathed in the soft glow of the convenience stores' lights, casting long shadows across the pavement. the stillness of the night envelopes the surroundings, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. despite the late hour, there is a sense of tranquility in the air, as if the world slows down to a peaceful rhythm.

you suddenly realize that pastry shops are already closed at this hour. with a sigh, you make your way towards the cold glow of the nearest convenience store, hoping to find something similar to a cake.

the aisle of pastries beckons with its tantalizing display of sweets wrapped in cute packaging, making your stomach rumble with anticipation. your gaze lingers on the last piece of cheesecake sitting on the middle shelf. its creamy, off-white hue melds with the color of the soft, overhead fluorescent lights.

as you’re about to grab the pastry, a hand swiftly joins – both of you holding the same piece together. there is a second of momentary silence — after that, you step back.

“sorry, you can have that piece,” you say to the man beside you, still looking at the cheesecake.

you’re greeted with a long silence. “...y/n? is that you?” the man looks at you in shock and hesitance.

the familiar voice seems to jolt you from your fatigue — you look at him in surprise.

“what… Felix?”

“what are you doing here? did you go here all by yourself?” Felix asks, still holding the cheesecake.

“oh, and never mind this… you can have it.” he hands you the pastry.

“thank you,” you take the cake from his hands.

“i came here to surprise Jeongin. and please, don’t tell him,” you utter in a quiet tone.

you explain the details, and he nods in agreement.

“do you know where he is? i can take you there,”

“oh and before that, let’s pay for these items first. it’s on me today.” Felix offers, leaving no room for refusal.

after leaving the convenience store, the clock ticks past 3 in the morning as you navigate the peaceful streets to Jeongin’s condo. finally arriving at the building, the cold breeze greets you, softly washing over your skin.

“here’s a spare key to his unit. i always bring it with me just in case.” he hands the key to you.

“he should be asleep by now, the practice drained him a lot,” he added.

“thank you lix. i’ll treat you to a meal sometime,” you say as he helps you unload your luggage in his trunk. he smiles at you softly and wishes you the best.

the sound of the elevator heightens your anticipation even further, each ding echoing through the hallway like a drumbeat of excitement.

as you leave the enclosed space, the hallway is dimly lit with soft, cozy lights – emitting a warm glow. the sound of the luggage echoes softly in the quiet hallway, their gentle rolling adding a subtle rhythm to the anticipation-filled atmosphere.

the gentle twist of the key upon unlocking resonates through your lover’s living space. you ease the door open, not wanting to disturb his slumber.

you untie the shoes he gave you on your birthday, setting them aside beside his own — your heart swelling with fondness and nostalgia.

you set your things aside carefully, only turning the dim light on to avoid disturbing his sleep.

the drumming sound of your heart intensifies as you take a step, echoing through the quiet space as you make your way towards his bedroom.

you find his figure sprawled all over the bed, his arms snuggling against the pillow — wishing it was you. as you observe his serene expression, the feeling of vulnerability intertwines with the warmth of yearning and intimacy gently embracing your heart. the sight before you fills your heart with tenderness and adoration — the rush of overwhelming emotions that makes your heart feel as though it might burst out from your chest.

you sit beside his sleeping figure, your fingers running gently through his hair — each strand soft and delicate, just like the man he is.

Jeongin slowly opens his eyes, stirring from his sleep. his eyes try to adjust to the light illuminated by the lamp on his nightstand, seemingly confused by his surroundings.

“hi baby,” you can’t hide your excitement anymore. a soft smile escapes from your lips, not wanting to disrupt the peacefulness of the moment.

“hello baby,” he replied. you don’t think he’s fully awake at the moment, so you only smile until the realization hits him.

“...wait, y/n?” his eyes are wider now, realization washing over his features.

“oh my god y/n, you’re here? this isn’t a dream, right?” he sits up and slaps both of his cheeks lightly, seemingly in disbelief as he struggles to comprehend the reality of your presence before him.

you wrap your arms around him, an unspoken answer to his question – sharing the familiar warmth that only your embrace can provide.

“i’m here, i’m home,” you say in a whisper while playing with his hair soothingly.

“y/n, y/n, you’re here. oh my god… this better be not a dream,” Jeongin presses a soft kiss on the crown of your head, his voice filled with mixture of astonishment and delight.

you rub his back with gentle strokes to calm him down. “happy birthday, my love. the cake is in the fridge. kind of a bummer ‘cause it got deformed on the way here.” you say with a chuckle.

“the cake can wait,” he murmurs softly, his focus entirely on you. your beauty catches him in a daze – his eyes all focused on you. your presence fills Jeongin’s heart with warmth that surpasses any dessert. “i can’t believe you’re here. i missed you so much.”

“it feels good to be home,” you added. you looked at him with such adoration. after being countries away from your lover because of personal ordeals, it feels good to be here – the once almost unfamiliar space instantly turns into a sanctuary in his presence.

Jeongin presses a sweet kiss on your lips, tears almost welling up in his eyes. “don’t leave me again,” he pleaded, making your heart sink.

“mhm, i don’t have the heart to.” you hummed, giving assurance. you won’t leave him again, and the thought of doing so breaks your heart.

Jeongin wraps you in his arms all night — not wanting you to leave any second. the warmth of your embrace lulls him into a peaceful sleep, the comfort of your presence soothing his restless body.

the way back home feels much better – knowing you're waiting for me.

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

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fetish4juggalos · 11 months

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Bed time with Gotham villans

I haven’t posted anything recently and thought in light of 2023 coming to a start I’d post something for the new year even though we’re 6 months into it :3

I apologize in advance for both grammatical errors and spelling errors:)

Oswald Cobblepot

I can imagine oswald being a very wild sleeper. Like the kind that can go to sleep on the opposite side of the bed and end up with their leg over you with their arms wrapped around you

Probably has alot of night terrors specially about his mom and dad. Loud random screams in the middle of the night will be a common occurrence for you

Goes to sleep in a full pajama set with night cap and slippers:)

Blanket hog all the way, constantly kicking you in the back, cuddling into you, ect.

Though he's probably not the best to sleep with hes definitely got the nicest bed. Like im talking king sized with silk pillow cases, and sheets with a ridiculous thread count

I imagine him having some long ass night routine or some weird night ritual he follows before bed

He's the last to get into bed and the first to fall asleep

Likes a warm glass of milk (or a lukewarm glass of alcohol) before bed because he's old fashioned

Refuses to go to sleep without you and will wait till the early hours of the morning and late hours of night for you to come to bed

Edward Nygma (pre-riddler)

Ed unsurprisingly is very pleasant to sleep with

He’s not a very calm sleeper but he isn't like incredibly wild either. Maybe a arm or leg thrown over the edge of the bed but thats about it

Has the occasional night terrors but besides that is otherwise peaceful

Sleeps in relatively normal sleep attire. Plain shirt with pajama pants mostly

Really basic white male night time routine. shower, brush teeth, wash face and head to bed

He has a decent sleep schedule with only the occasional sleep insomnia

Likes to spend a little time playing video games or solving puzzles before bed

Edward Nygma (post-riddler)

Sleeps a lot less then pre-riddler ed

When he does sleep it’s only for a few hours and tends to have nightmares in between periods of rest

He’s not one to initiate cuddling during bed time but he won’t stop you from cuddling up next him

Will at times sleep on the couch or wherever he ends up falling asleep. Mostly up to you to make sure he gets a healthy amount of rest

Over thinks greatly before bed and ends up circling the room on a tangent or whenever an idea strikes

Sometimes breaks into your apartment just to sleep next to you or will show up and pass out on your couch

Talks and mumbles in his sleep

Victor Zsasz

Victor rarely sleeps but will lay in bed just to be next to you for a few hours before his next job

Sleeps in mostly just boxers since he takes a shower directly before he goes to bed but on off days he’ll throw on a t-shirt and lay in bed with you

Calm sleeper surprisingly

It takes a specific type of man to be able to kill someone then come home and sleep peacefully

He’s a quiet sleeper which is also why he makes such a god assassin as noise suppression is a huge part of his job

You always fall asleep first and he likes to just stare at you for long periods of time

Half drunken water bottles and glasses on the night stand at all times

I feel like he would have some kind of lengthy skin care routine before bed

Likes cuddling especially if he’s the little spoon

Wakes up at ungodly early hours of the morning

Blanket hog but just to be annoying and so that way you’ll sleep closer to him

Only really sleeps if you’re sleeping with him as he doesn’t really sleep as much as most people and probably only rests his eyes for a few hours at a time

Jervis Tetch

Jervis is very affectionate when it comes to bed time. He loves cuddling, holding you, kissing you ect.

I imagine his bed is incredibly comfortable with many multi-colored and textured throws, quilts, and blankets covering the bed. Probably decorative pillows as well in many colors and shapes

Full pajama sleep attire. Button up sleep shirt, pants, slippers, and a night hat similar to Oswald

He likes reading to you or being read bedtime stories. His current favorite (aside from obviously alice in wonderland) is the wizard of Oz

A warm glass of milk or tea before bed is essential and he always makes some before bed

Jervis is a bit of a wild sleeper but for the most part stays in one spot on the bed only kneeing you a few times and stirring in his sleep

He runs warm so he doesn’t take up a whole lot of blanket but during the summer he ends up drenched in sweat blanket or not

Wild bed head since his curls are hard to tame at times

Stays up late so he falls asleep first since he’s always exhausted and sleep deprived

Wokenup in a cold sweat a few times from the occasional nightmares relating to his sister but all he needs is you to pull him back into reality

Talks to you until he falls asleep to help him get some energy out and clear his mind. He talks to you about anything and everything until he begins to drift off

Jerome Valeska

Jerome is an incredibly wild sleeper. So much so to the point where no matter what position or side of the bed he’s on he’ll end up on the opposite side in a completely different position

Throws the blanket off and on going from hogging it to throwing it on the floor

He runs hot so his sleep attire is mostly him without a shirt and a pair of tattered pajama pants or just boxers

He doesn’t really have a night time routine to speak of or a steady schedule

Normally it’s just whenever he’s tired and wherever he’s at that determine what his sleep is going to be like and how long it lasts

He’s a big cuddler at first but because he’s such a wild sleeper he’ll probably end up letting go of you and turning to the opposite side of the bed

He’ll wake up in a bad mood if he’s not sleeping with you next to him or in his arms in the morning tho even if it’s entirely his fault

He’s a brat so it takes forever to coax him into going to bed. Plus he’s stubborn so even when you get him into bed he’ll do everything in his power to annoy you or to not fall asleep

He talks a lot in his sleep normally it’s laughter or it’s him mumbling on about his mother and the trauma he received

He has nightmares but they don’t wake him up only increase his tossing and turning and sleep talk

I feel like he sleep walks at times when he’s not knocked completely out and I can image you’ve had to bring him back to bed a few times

#victor zsasz x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #edward nygma x reader #the riddler x reader #the riddler #edward nygma #gotham #the penguin #the penguin x reader #jervis tetch x reader #jervis tetch #oswald cobblepot #jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader

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jacespookiebear · 1 year

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ೃ࿐ 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡: 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 6

summary : you are the youngest daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Aemma Arryn. Outlived your mother and your older twin brother, Baelon, in childbirth. You were titled as (Y/n) “The Undying” Targaryen.

pairing : jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings : incest, tension, sexual content, age gap (reader is about 2-3 years older), jace is about a year older in this fic, misogyny, self-harm, violence, angst, teen pregnancy, birth, meraxes is alive and thriving with vhagar :D

Masterlist

Alicent paced across the celebration hall with such eagerness. Organizing many celebrations to be held in the future. Such as your return to King’s Landing— but you weren’t returning for her. You were only returning to celebrate your betrothed’s nameday along arriving with the rest of your family. Usually, she wouldn’t give a damn to make preparations but you were also to be married under the same week as your future husband’s nameday. Alicent wanted it all to be set perfectly, just for you.

“That is not right! I had ask for lilac orchids. If you cannot fulfill your duties, I shall have you removed at once!” Alicent bitterly shouted to the tradesmen, feeling disappointed and stressed to see they had brought white peonies— flowers she clearly did not request.

Talya, The Queen’s handmaiden, arrived quietly in the hall to give her the urgent news she had just received. “My Queen, they have arrived.” Talya muttered closely to Alicent’s ear. Immediately she had stopped ordering the servants and turned her attention to her handmaiden.

“Already!?” She gasped, “I had thought they would arrive on the morrow.” Talya shook her head and within minutes, Alicent left the hall to greet the family. To greet you, specifically.

To her surprise, you all have already been greeted by the King. Although it has only been two years, he was weakening day by day, though still being able to stand on his own.

“My sweet daughters,” the King welcomes you and Rhaenyra in his remaining arm. “I have missed you both.” Alicent watched as tears streamed down your cheeks, smiling towards your father with happiness. She felt immense nostalgia from the way you dressed— you certainly did look the part as the Realm’s Beauty, wearing a dark blue velvety dress with sleeves falling off your shoulders and separate straps connecting from your dress wrapped around your neck. In her early years, she had also wore the proud colors of her husband’s house, but had only done so to appease others around her. But, she couldn’t help to feel that you only done it solely for yourself and to prove you would always state your loyalty to Jacaerys.

“It is a lovely sight to see you all back in King’s Landing,” Alicent interrupted the sweet moment and took the time to hug you. Seconds had passed, you had placed your arms around her. Alicent breathed in your existence, she missed you dearly and now you’re here, at last, just like you said you would.

She desperately wanted whatever had happened between you both two years ago to be pushed away and forget it had ever existed. She wanted you both to savor the relationship, with Rhaenyra— she couldn’t help but feel that your elder sister had probably put a seed in your mind to look at your step-mother differently.

I have missed you, my dearest, that was all Alicent thought about. Finally having you in her arms, where you truly belong.

After what felt like hours, she let go of you and cupped your face to look at you, warmly. Though, you gave her a friendly smile, you pulled away and remained standing right by Lysanna and Daemon’s side, whom looked smug right after you done so. “Forgive the King and I, we had thought you would be arriving later. If I had know you would have arrived much more early, I would have properly prepared the Red Keep.” Alicent maintained a calm composer, ignoring the sly glares that were being given from Rhaenyra and your betrothed. She had motioned for them all to head inside, the Red Keep was still being renovated, she had made sure to have some of her faith hung across the halls.

“You must rest,” she suggested, “we have much to celebrate. But tonight, we shall have a feast to celebrate upon your arrival.” The King nodding happily at the thought. He ordered the knights to lead you all to your temporary chambers.

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“She certainly was happy to see you,” you spoke to Lysanna as you unpacked from your luggages, placing gowns and capes back into your old drawers. “I could’ve sworn I saw a tear streaming down her cheek when you told her you missed her.”

Lysanna scoffed and let out a laugh as well. “She is my cousin, afterall.” that you can agree to, your step-mother was family whether you want to disagree or not. Even if she held dislike towards your sister, she held adoration for you and Lysanna.

“If only we could be in the North as we are speaking,” you spoke up, Lysanna turned to you, “your brother is lucky to live far away from the South..”

Before Lysanna could have answer back, your chamber doors were knocked and opened without even announcing themselves. You saw your youngest brother, Daeron, who was smiling ear to ear to see you. The scowl you wore for being interrupted immediately replaced with a bright smile and you ran to leap into your brother’s arms.

“Daeron!”

“Sister!”

Your brother wrapped his arms around you tightly, afraid to let go. You had not seen your brother since he was about nine, went off to be the squire of the Lord Hightower in Oldtown. You had only heard from him whenever he written to his mother, he became very strong with the sword and had the chance to bond with a dragon, Tessarion, before he left. He was always gentle and caring, more sweeter than his other brothers but still held no liking to your elder sister and her family.

“I had him return to King’s Landing to attend your wedding,” Alicent spoke, with her hands clasped, she was arrived in your chambers behind Daeron, whom was only ten-and-third but still loomed over you and your step-mother. He was getting much taller. “I wanted the whole family to be here to watch you marry under the seven.”

Oh. You felt yourself clench your hand in anger from what she had said. You wanted to scream and yell at her face. It is my marriage, not yours!

“It seems we need to discuss more of my wedding.” you coldly stated, bringing your attention on Daeron once more who continued to smile. He had no clue on your underlying bitterness towards Alicent.

“I have missed you, dear brother.” Both of you beaming with happiness to finally be reunited with one another. With swiftness, you brought Daeron towards Lysanna, “I shall speak with the Queen, you must catch up with your relative, it has been quite a long time since you both had seen each other as well.” Lysanna quickly hugged Daeron with tight grip, the two were always so rough with each other when they were younger.

“It is good to see you, cousin!” Lysanna happily chirped. You excused them to find Helaena as you stayed behind with your step-mother.

“My dearest-“

“I want all of us to meet. Now.” you resisted her touches and walked out to find Rhaenyra and Daemon. Your father was already ill but still insisted to attend the continued preparations. As you arrived in their chambers, you apologized to interrupt their resting, considering Rhaenyra is heavily pregnant but she was quick to come to your rescue, they were both very serious about your worries and did not hesitate.

You all sat in the council room, you were sitting with Rhaenyra and Daemon across from Alicent with the King sitting in his seat that was always placed in the middle end of the table. You had not planned to have Jace attend— noting he wouldn’t have arrived anyways but in moments, you were surprised when he barged in the room,

“Excuse my tardiness,” Jace announced and sat next to you, happy to see that he arrived even without being called to attend. “I had not been told to attend but I will make the effort for my betrothed.”

Alicent grimaced when he called you his betrothed but none the less, she cleared her throat and joined her hands together to begin the meeting.

You leaned to whisper in Jace’s ear, “how did you know we were meeting?”

“I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” Jace answered. You didn’t mind his explanation, his existence already reassured your feelings and helped you relax a little.

“I believe I have said this before. I shall have it repeated. They will be married under the Seven,” your step-mother stated, her joined hands planted on the table. She clearly wanted no negotiation on how your wedding would be customized.

Rhaenyra sighed, Daemon let out a scoff at her audacity, “This is a Targaryen marriage, let you be reminded, my Queen. My sister is not a believer of the Seven, she puts her faith in the Valyrian Gods.”

Alicent did not budge, relaxing into her seat a little, “My eldest daughter deserve a wedding that will have many witnesses. Her siblings were married under the faith as well. She should not have to hide in Dragonstone to wed and I have not yet accepted her marrying Jacaerys-“

“My niece does not share blood with you, let it be known once more,” Daemon seethed, his words dripping with venom, “You did not birth her, the Late Queen Aemma whom suffered long hours in labor, only to be cut open like a helpless pig. She would have wanted her daughter to have this.” That immediately shut your step-mother up. You saw how she took a big gulp after being reminded that you were not her trueborn daughter. But not only those words reached over to Alicent, it put you, Rhaenyra, and Viserys in a emotional and awkward state. You brought your hand over to your face to avoid any quivering to be seen from the mention of how your mother died.

Alicent cleared her throat— trying to recover from the sadden reality check she was given by Daemon. “I suppose it is only right for the King to make the decision…” your father slightly lit up at how Alicent let him have the right to make the decision for you all. He turned to make eye contact with you and saw how visibly upset you looked.

You were surprised on how she gave in so easily. Your step-mother had only been insufferable about your wedding for years before she gave it up to have your father finally have a choice in the matter. “If my daughter wishes for an Old Valyrian wedding then I don’t see why not.” Viserys calmly stated, coughing into his handkerchief once more. At his words, your spirits were lifted and smiled at your father. But your step-mother did not seem to be too happy, her frown was noticed from you and your sister.

Rhaenyra seeming to not be so pleased of your step-mother being upset, “I am sure we can come to some sort of agreement,” your sister offered, turning to you for your approval and you let her continue to hear what she had to say, “It would not be official but we can have another wedding under the seven— no one should be allowed to attend except our family, of course. I will only propose it if my son and sister is willing to allow it.”

It did not make you upset at the proposal but having to negotiation on your own wedding did. But from the delighted smile on your step-mother’s face from the offer, you couldn’t help but nod your head once more to agree, as you gave your answer, you felt angry at yourself for letting your step-mother have her way like always. But yet, she just looked so happy as well as your father who seemed delighted to hear you and your sister wanted to consider Alicent’s feelings even with what happened two years ago, but Daemon and Jace seemed to not be so onboard with the idea.

Your step-mother looked surprised, a grateful smile danced on her face, “I am grateful for your proposal. Thank you, Princess.” she graciously thanked and Rhaenyra gave a slight smile.

“A sweet proposition!” Viserys praised.

Jacaerys looked helpless, he’d never been reduced to a simple watcher before. You wanted to comfort him while your father began speaking about Jace’s wedding robes and which colors he should wear. It was his wedding as well and yet no one had asked him what he wanted.

“I’ll accompany the Princess on her fitting with the Seamstress.”

“My grandson should have the robes that I wore in my wedding.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t fit him, brother.”

“I shall have my cousin, Lord Stark, to prepare Winterfell for the newlyweds quickly.”

“Will he be attending my grandson’s nameday?”

At last, they all seemed to be in a agreement with each other. It all left a neutral look on everyone’s face besides Jace. He did not look happy like everyone else. Even if he wished to speak up on his wishes for his weddings, he did not know what to say. He did not like how you or his mother had negotiated or how they continue to let the woman who used her position and power to ruin his family’s lives, to say he was angry was an understatement.

As you pardoned yourself and head to your chambers to retire, he followed you with the intention of talking with you.

You turned, continuing to walk, “You should be heading to your chambers. Are you alright?” As you finished speaking, you arrived in your chambers and allowed him to come in. You only expected him to wish you well night rest.

“You’re allowing her to have what she wants. Once again.”

You whipped your head around quickly from his words. Jace looked back with annoyance as you looked with confusion. You both seemed to be feeling alright in the council, now you felt that there was tension between you both.

“If you disagreed with the idea then you should have said your piece,” you reminded Jace, he scoffed in return. “you had only disregarded this wedding many times and now you seem to care?!”

He sighed, “Of course I had cared! I wanted you— only you to prepare our wedding. You had the chance to finally have full control of,” his words made you bite your lip, he was right. “That woman had humiliated us for years..you are letting her remain in power even in our marriage!”

You turned, facing him completely, you stepped closer to him, face now only inches apart, “What else can I do, Jacaerys?! She is close that I have to a mother. Let it be reminded that she is still the Queen.”

“Not only days ago, you held distaste for her!” He shouted, “You do not defend yourself, me, or our family when it comes to her.”

You resisted the urge to slap him, “I had done so much for us! This wedding..I thought this is what you wanted!”

For a moment, Jace was taken aback from what you had said. Utterly shocked was his emotions.

“I wanted nothing but your love.”

Your face softened from his words. Within moments, his arms sneak around your waist and hold you affectionately. “For years, Ñuha hūra qēlossās, I yearned for your love and now I was given the chance by the Old Gods to relish in it.” The memory of younger Jace wishing to confess to you in the future was running in your mind, remembering his words: “I will tell you when I am of age, so please wait until then.” Hot tears finally streaming down your face from his words. He gently wiped them off your cheeks, “You and I were meant to burn together.”

You sobbed, stepping away from him, it wounded him deeply once you left his arms but you had no choice. “Please do speak no more..” creating space between you both, it felt wrong to be apart from each other this long.

His face fell and the sight made you want to bury yourself alive for the way you were beginners to hurt him, wounding his heart all because you were not sure. “You share the same feelings as do I, do you not?”

The silence from you was furthering his heart to shatter, to break into two. The heart that belonged to you and only you. Why were you not saying anything?

“Please, my love,” Jace begged, closing the space between you both, holding onto your hands so desperately— almost falling to his knees, “please tell me that you feel the same.”

Jace’s mind was racing. He had always thought you shared love for him as well. Why else would you spur his name towards the Queen on a suitor, or how you would always call him your sun, or how you would allow him to show his affections nearly everywhere, and even when Meraxes allowed Vermax to show his love for her so loudly around Dragonstone that it became clear to Jace that they were the sign of your love for one another. Was he wrong? This whole time, he was wrong?

“Does it not bother you?” you finally asked him, “I had helped raise you..”

Is that why you are in such denial of your feelings towards Jace? No matter how much you might love him, you would still see him as the young boy you had watched over all your life and called him your nephew. But he will no longer be your sweet nephew after four days.

Your words appear to sting Jace and wound him so deeply, from the betrayed look on his face. What was the difference? His mother married her uncle, they’re happily together and inlove.

“Does it really matter?”

“Of course it matters!”

From the tone of your voice, he nodded, only bringing you closer to him. For a moment you had tried to lean away but failed once he placed his hands on your cheeks, continued to wipe your tears away. “Not once have I ever been ashamed of my love for you.”

His touch was a touch you had yearned for years. The gentleness and sweetness that it came with was reassuring, you were not used to it. From what you were used to was harsh and rough, usually received by your brother, Aegon, whom never held any sort of respect towards you but viewed you as his potential maiden he can abuse whenever he wanted. Everything you wanted in a man was standing right in front of you and yet you pulled away.

Why were you so afraid? This is what you had always wanted right? To be married to the right man and to have sweet children who will turn out right. To be married by your choice and not by duty.

“We shall continue to talk on the morrow.” With that you said nothing else. You stood your place and refused to shed more tears. You watched as Jace was hit with realization. Realizing that you weren’t going to speak anymore or return your feelings. He stepped back and his face was clearly written with hurt all over.

Jace turned to leave your chambers and once he had left, you broke down in continued tears. You broke down into messy sobs, feeling so alone and hurt. Your glassy violet eyes watching the door— thinking about chasing after him. Your eyes begin to dry, rimmed with redness and puffy, you were so conflicted and hated yourself for being so confusing, you wished you had the courage to declare how much you do care for him. But you could not, you were too late, he now thinks you do not love him.

As you continued to cry in your chambers, unknowingly to you— Jace remained behind your doors and hearing it all, salty tears swelling in his eyes. You both cried for each other, yearning for each other’s warmth with the door separating you two.

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“The design…” Alicent eyed your wedding gown, the seamstress was still needling the gown while you were dressed in it, stepping on the high stool as you were studied by your step-mother and sister, they both shared slight distaste for the gown. Lysanna was behind you with your wedding robe to be tried on.

“It is not quite finished yet, my Queen,” the seamstress announced, she placed more needles around the bottom of your gown. You were mesmerized by the gown, it was your step-mother who prepared this gown for you, you had to admit how she perfectly knew what you preferred and what not you preferred. The red lining on the white dress and golden accents were beautiful, the designs of Meraxes on your gown made you beam with excitement. You hate to admit how much step-mother knows about you even though you are still upset with her, she was the reason why you and Jace are having a rough patch.

“Let’s have you try on the robes, hm?” Rhaenyra asked as you quickly nodded, excited to see how they looked while Alicent spoke with the seamstress to have a cape sewn in on your sleeves. Lysanna helped you out of your gown before helping you into the robes. It looked gorgeous, the robes had blue and black as the main colors to represent House Velaryon and Targaryen.

You turned to face your family and they only had given you a smile. It was surprising to see Alicent cooperate and be less vicious to Rhaenyra but perhaps they put their differences aside for your weddings. “You look beautiful, my dearest,” Alicent complimented to which Rhaenyra wholeheartedly agreed. “And what of the headpiece? When will it be finished? Her wedding is in days, let you be reminded!” the seamstress moved quickly across the room to fetch the matching headpieces she had made for you and Jace, handing Alicent yours and she quickly placed it on your head.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect. Except you could not shake away the guilt that was burning inside you from what had happened last night. You and Jace have not spoken to each other since, he was off preparing for his celebration feast that was happening tonight, with Daemon and your father, Viserys. Nobody knew what had happened between the both of you but everyone in the Keep could all feel the tension.

Alicent soon became concerned and remembered, “The gown will be finished before the wedding, I hope?”

“For the heir and his future Queen’s wedding? I will have it finished before the evening,” the seamstress insisted.

You stepped down from the stool after having the robes be taken off of you. You watched as your step-mother place a bag of coins in the seamstress’ hands for her time and hardwork. While your sister graciously thanked her, you all said your farewell before leaving the room. You planned to meet Lysanna in your chambers to help each other with the gowns for tonight.

“Would you like for me to help you pick a gown for the feast?” Alicent placed a cold hand on your shoulder but you shook your head and gave her a friendly smile,

“Liz is helping me,” you answered, “she is helping with my hair as well.”

Rhaenyra nodded from your answer and placed a sweet kiss on your forehead. “I shall see you at the feast, sweet sister.”

“Thank you, Nyra.” you smiled while she scurried off to her chambers, you were standing alone with your step-mother, awkwardly. “Then I shall depart as well-“

With swiftness, you stopped your step-mother from leaving and she gave you a confused look but quickly was replaced with surprise once you shoved yourself into her embrace. Hugging her so tightly, you were scared she would be crushed. But quickly enough, she held onto you as well, possibly her grip was more tighter than yours. “I’ve missed you, my dearest love,” she voiced gently, genuinely terrified to let go of you.

“I have missed you,” you admitted, cried softly. Not caring with what Ladies or Lords around the halls are witnessing.

She didn’t waste a second to kiss your head gingerly and hush you like you were still a baby. “My sweet, miracle girl. What is wrong?”

You couldn’t answer her, instead you buried yourself deeper into your step-mother’s shoulder, the tears continued falling from your eyes, as you breathed in the scent of the Keep. You had not understand why you were suddenly missing your step-mother. In seconds, your step-mother brought you back inside your chambers, pleading to Lysanna to be excused and come back later. She sat you on your bed, helping you loosen your gown to feel more comfortable.

“We had a fight”, you confessed, you saw how she wanted you to continue about why, “about you.”

Alicent looked at you— confused, soon realizing what you had meant. Now understanding why you had looked so gloomy this morning, eye bags and a grim frown danced on your face. “Oh,” she muttered, “I am sorry.” you shook your head, not believing her apology, “No..really, my dearest, I am.”

“He is rather angry with me to know that I have gave you an opportunity to have a part in our wedding.” Her face seeming to hold some sort of guilt, “He’s seething with envious to know that no matter how much I hold hatred, fear, and disgust towards you..I will always find my way back to you, to please you, and to make you part of my life.”

To know that even if you hate her, you would always keep her in your heart. Why? Because she was there for you since you were born, had raised you like her own. You were always her little girl and will forever be her little girl. As much as Alicent despises Rhaenyra and her family, she had learned to accept that you were always apart of her family, she chooses to understand Jace’s anger.

At that you sat on the large bed with your mother, placing your head onto her lap as she soothed you to comfort, humming. You let yourself breathe in and breathe out to calm your nerves, silently sobbing while she whispered sweet nothings into your head, rocking you back and forth. You are ten-and-seventh, and yet you still loved being babied by your step-mother. Moments like this had you wishing that your mother was alive, you only relied on memories and stories told by your father and sister, sometimes your step-mother would tell you how much of a mother she saw in her when she was younger. It was sure by day that she would’ve loved you so much— you and your twin brother, you grieved for them everyday. You could only meet your mother in your dreams but that was more than enough, or that was you just lying to yourself for hope it’ll help ease your curiosity of your mother.

But it was okay, you knew you still had your step-mother, “Sweetest,” she cooed, kissing your forehead lightly, her kisses made you melt with warmth, you had missed this so dearly. “He will come to his senses soon. He won’t hold anger over you forever. He adores you.”

“That is what’s wrong, mama,” you whispered, you pinched yourself to calm your growing anxiety but it was not working, instead you twiddled with your rings, “I have led him to believe that I do not love him. He is rightfully hurt and I do not know what to say..”

Closing your eyes, breathing in the air before you spoke your truth. “My marriage has already ended before it even started.”

Alicent held your face, squishing your cheeks, your sad and heartbreaking eyes left her feeling more sorrow for you. “My dearest, you are no fool. It can be savored, tell me, truthfully, do you carry such love and devotion for Jacaerys as he has for you?”

Her question made you begin to wonder. You had always tried convincing yourself this betrothal was good for the family, for the House. It saved you from marrying your brother, loveless marriage or an abusive one with a high Lord who only wanted you for your Valyrian blood. But really, you knew deep down it was otherwise, no matter how much you wanted to convince yourself and others around you that you and Jace were always just family, it pained you tremendously. You weren’t as confident as he was when admitting his love for you— you didn’t know what to say or do. But you knew your heart belonged to him and only him, it was only right for you to make it up to your lover and it was only right to do it quick.

“I do,” you sighed, exhaustedly, leaning into your step-mother’s hold on your cheeks, “I love him with my whole heart. But I fear he may not want to hear it after what I done.” You had finally admit your love for Jacaerys.

Alicent let out a soft chuckle, getting up from her seat on your bed and straightening her gown, “Believe my words when I speak them, my sweet girl. He will be contented.” slightly smiling at the reassurance she tried giving you. You heard a knock on your chamber doors and it was Liz. To help you with your gown and hair for tonight, of course you let her in and dismissed with your step-mother.

You sat down at your vanity, quietly. Trying to think what to do tonight to apologize to Jace and express your true feelings for him. Waiting for Lysanna to start helping you, she noticed your dreary mood.

“Your eyes are swollen,” Lysanna pointed out and rubbed her cold hands over your face, it startled you which made her laugh. “I won’t ask what happened.”

Feeling a little better while she worked to braid your hair and wrap behind your head, leaving most of your hair down that were stylishly curled. “Have you ever been inlove, Liz?” you whispered, your eyes trained on her from the mirror, she looked rather stunned from your question. Worried you touched a sensitive topic but you wished for some sort of help from her, she was the closest companion you had and probably could relate to your troubles.

“Once.” Lysanna answered, truthfully. She brought over a bright red gown with gold trimming on the front of the gown and around the breast area, the sleeves reached mid arm and had fabric cascading from behind the ending of the sleeves. Though it looked magnificent and appeared to be the dress your step-mother picked out for you, you were not in love with how simple it was…or the color for that matter.

“He was my father’s squire. Much more older than I was at the time,” she helped you out of your pink gown and carefully put you into the red and gold one before starting to tie the laces for tightening. “The lad had dismissed my existence while he stayed in Winterfell, it broke my little heart. All of my hopes and dreams of marrying him disappeared when he left to arrive back to his home. My brother told me he left because his father had betrothed him to a lady from House Baratheon. That was the only time I had ever seen myself marrying for love, not for duty.”

At the newfound information, you frowned. Liz had only arrived to King’s Landing at the age of ten to be your lady-in-waiting. She has been your companion for so long and yet has never thought of marriage ever again. In a way, she was like you, the comfortable atmosphere around you both certainly helped you become more closer to the Stark girl.

“Do you long for home, Liz?”

“Most days I do. Why do you ask?”

“I long for home too.”

Your answer reached Liz’s understanding on what you truly meant. You knew she would understand. You both meant the exact same thing— not the home you grew up in, the home you had known all your lives. The home you desired for, a dream that you hoped to come true, a home that was far away from this place, a home where you could stay for the rest of your days and do whatever you wished. Where you were truly happy and safe.

You were finishing getting ready but you decided to take a few more minutes to help Lysanna with her gown, sure you both would have been late to the celebration but you wanted more time with her. Usually, Lysanna wore grey gowns with sigils stitched of House Stark but she started wearing appropriate gowns for the spring time, dark purples and flowery gowns looked amazing on her. You had her wear a pink patterned gown with much yellow accents and put her hair in a similar hairstyle to what she placed you in, but you wrapped the braids around the crown of her head to make a braid crown.

“Beautiful.” You complimented, Lysanna happily giggling at your words. You both left the chambers and made your way to the Hall where all celebrations and feasts are held. Tonight, not only they would be celebrating the nameday of your betrothed, but the celebration of your betrothal.

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Rhaenyra sat on the other end of the long table with Daemon, Lucerys, and Rhaena while waiting for Rhaenys who had came with Baela right by her side as well as her brother-in-law and her House since Lord Corlys was still at sea, in battle. Alicent and her family occupied the other end of the table while you and Jacaerys were supposed to be seated in the middle with the King, he was there but you were nowhere to be found. Nor was Lysanna.

“Where is my sister?” Rhaenyra whispered to Daemon, as if he would know where you were. He turned to look around the Hall, where many Houses with their Lords and Ladies were crowding. He did not find you but Lysanna was rushing through the crowd to be seated at the table. Rhaenyra had wanted to ask Lysanna where you were but Alicent got to her first. She whispered into her ear and after gaining a response from Lysanna, she looked relieved.

Lysanna made her way to sit next to Lucerys, the young boy quickly became flustered after receiving a smile from her. “Liz, where is the Princess?” Rhaenyra lightly whispered across, not wanting Jacaerys to hear so he wouldn’t panic, but he certainly would not react at the mention of you.

“She’s arriving soon. She had asked me to not wait on her, and went back to her chambers for something.” Lysanna answered truthfully. Rhaenyra was worried, Viserys was about to start his speech right about now.

Everyone had finally seated, once they had all sat, Viserys weakly got up and began his speech. But before he could even speak a word, you came in through the doors in a much different dress than the one you were previously wearing. A lavishing off-shouldered blue gown with ruffles lining across your collarbone, a lighter blue cape connecting around your sleeves, the patterns on the dress seemed to be in favor of House Velaryon and as well as the pearl jewelry that were around your neck and pinned between your ears. You wore the rings given by your father.

“Princess Y/n of House Targaryen, The Realm’s Beauty and the future Queen Consort.”

The knight announced your presence loudly, while everyone had got up from their seat once more to honor you. You had received the most happiest grin from the King and Rhaenyra’s family while you received a surprised look from your step-mother. Your betrothed’s eyes lit up for a moment once you had entered the hall, surely they all expected you to show up in your house colors but tonight you were here for Jace and only Jace. But he wasn’t the only one who seemed to be contented, the Queen who never was certainly pleased to see you show support to her and her husband’s House.

You climbed up the stairs and as you made your way to sit next to Jace, you placed a sweet kiss on his cheek while they all clapped. The King declared for everyone to be seated once again.

“As we all join together for another celebration. Tonight, we celebrate my grandson, the future heir to the Iron Throne, ten-and-fourth nameday.” Viserys announces loudly, to that, they all clapped once more. You gave Jace a warm smile—received nothing but a firm nod. Taking a sip from your glass, you almost felt all of your confidence drain out of you when he barely acknowledged you. “Not only we celebrate his nameday, we celebrate yet another betrothal between House Targaryen and House Velaryon, united once more. With my grandson, your future Queen’s heir— whom to be your future King, and with my second eldest daughter, your future Queen Consort. Let us celebrate!”

You gently clapped your hands and smiled towards your father who remained his eyes on you and Jace. As everyone all clapped again, music began to play, guests beginning to dig in their meals while you sat there, looking throughout the Hall until you were interrupted by a noise and saw Jace held his hand out for you.

Oh. The first dance of the evening.

Quickly you took his hand and was lead to the floor. Hesitating to take the lead, from your lover’s stance, he was much more confident to lead. As the music danced around you both, you cleared your throat and whispered towards him:

“We must talk.” you muttered as he circled you before you both appeared behind each other with your arms out.

“There’s no reason for us to talk, Auntie.” His words seethed with venom, you grimaced at the way he called you his aunt— not what you were used to. You both continued to dance away from each other and reuniting once more in the middle.

“I understand your anger, Jace,” you pleaded, you were desperate to make amends but it was not looking so good. “I realized my mistakes and I want to apologize.”

The dance was coming to an end and he harshly grabbed you, “You’re not forgiven.” He whispered down into your ear, lifting you in the air as you dropped on the floor before everyone clapped for you and Jace. He left you on the dancefloor by yourself until Lords and their Ladies crowded you. Watching him walk back to his seat without a care, you never felt so rejected and afraid until now. It shattered your heart as he changed his demeanor when he started talking with Baela. This was your fault, you must fix it. You were feeling defeated but snapped out of your thoughts when you felt a nudge on your shoulder,

“May I have a dance with the Princess?”

You wanted to politely refuse the young Lord but soon you realized it was not a young Lord, when you turned around you were facing the Lord of the North, Cregan Stark. Lysanna was watching with excitement to see you with her brother, she was so happy to hear from him that he would be attending. In a matter of seconds you begun dancing with him. Stealing glances over to him, you noticed how handsome he looked (though you could never admit that out loud.) He towered over you so easily— feeling rather short when next to him. His defined and mature looks, his furs that were draped over his shoulders made him look more masculine than any of the men that were in the Hall. The confidence in his stance was just the icing on the cake, everything about this man made you weak in the knees.

Recovering very soon from your ogling to the Lord of Winterfell, “It is a pleasant surprise to see you here tonight, my Lord,” you muttered, lifting your head after giving him a small nod out of respect, the older man gave you a light laugh from how you forgot your position. Grasping his hands around your waist, you let out a surprised gasp from how gentle he held you as he lifted you up in the air.

“It was my sister who asked of me.” He stated his reasoning, he helped you from the air to land you on the floor. That’s right, Lysanna had wrote many letters each month to her brother on any events happening and what was happening in her life, currently. It was a big surprise to see House Stark show up to any celebration that was held in King’s Landing due to them being in the North, it takes over a month to just travel here.

“Liz has always mentioned you, you are admirable, Lord Stark.” you were soon to be growing your confidence back, you were happy to be able to find comfort with a new friend you had made with the Lord Stark. Hoping he was enjoying your company as well.

Unknowing to you or the Lord of Winterfell, you were being watched not just by Lysanna but by your betrothed. Jace clenching his jaw as watched you enjoy the newfound company as you continued to dance with Cregan and laugh with him even though the dance floor was changing partners. Jace didn’t want to admit it, you looked like a divine goddess, he was mesmerized by your beauty that he almost forgot he was unhappy with you. But his grumpy mood soon came back after watching you dance with the Warden of the North while knowing he was an old potential suitor of yours.

It appeared that partners were changing soon, truthfully, you did not want to split up. You liked the friendly atmosphere you were able to make with him. “You honor me, my Princess. Please refer me as Cregan.” In awe at how he already wanted to be on first name basis. Before you could split apart, he gave your hand a kiss out of respect, “Congratulations, your betrothed appears to already be a strapping lad. Winterfell awaits for your arrival.” His manners made you shamelessly stare while being split up from the change of partners, grumbling once you realized Lord Baratheon became your partner, excusing yourself to return to your table. Happily eating the lemon cakes and toffee puddings that were offered.

“Sister! You must see the gift me and Daeron had prepared for your wedding.” Helaena quickly came up to you with Daeron by her side, holding a neatly rolled art piece that was collected specifically for you. You laid your eyes upon it with content, they knew how much you were into collecting art pieces, especially ones that were historical and ancient. You couldn’t wait to hang it up on your chamber walls with the rest of your collected art pieces.

You placed the art piece by your side and gave a genuine smile to your siblings for their sweet and thoughtful gift. “It is an amazing gift, my sweets. Thank you..”

“We had it exported from Essos,” Daeron explained, you assumed so since the paper was more softer than any art from Westeros. Your brother was explaining more in-depth with where the art piece came from. Helaena was telling you how happy she was when she got her hands on it as Rhaena asked to look at the art, handing her the paper, she looked so mesmerized by the colors.

You bid them off with a tight hug and a sweet kiss on their cheeks. Watching them sit back down at their seat, conversing with one another. Your gaze was soon locked with your young brother, Aemond. While Aegon, had run off to drink away and stare hungrily at the servant maids, making a complete utter fool out of himself. Your brother watched you from the side of the long table, your eyes began to sadden as you realized this was the first interaction you ever had with Aemond since two years ago, after the scary incident. He finally tore his gaze away from you and quickly your mood was ruined, once more. This is was a different kind of rejection, rejected by your betrothed and now rejected by your sweet brother, whom was the closest brother to you since children.

How could this night be so cruel to you? This was supposed to be a feast of celebration for Jace’s nameday but you could not hold your happiness anymore. As you’re drowning in your sorrow, Jace was drowning in his as well. He gave you a quick look before turning away once you noticed, you opened your mouth to say something but immediately closed it. Let him celebrate his nameday in peace, you thought, let him have no more worries for the rest of the night.

Your gaze was shifted to Lysanna, who was dancing with her brother and Luke, they all looked so jolly and contented.

Oh how you wished you were feeling those emotions right now.

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I made this chapter longer than the others because I felt bad for taking so long to update😔 I’m sorry! But omg we get sm angst, muahahahahaha😈 yes I love angst, it’s amazing and horrible at the same time. Anyways shoutout to Cregan writers, YALL ARE SAVING ME IN THE CREGAN X READER TAG!!🙏‼️

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