#and yes i completed book 7 chapter 1

[eldrbraus]

oh and

sebek-kun came home in the first free pull

baby ive been saving literal MONTHS for you, how dare you spook me in the free pulls !!

ily if this was bribe to make me pull for your NY card it worked <///3

[eddies-house]

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

Smoke Signals

Chapter Twelve - The Holiday Season Begins

W/C: 8.7K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

"I've got my eye on you."

Say Yes To Heaven - L.D.R

A/N: Wow I think this is the longest I've gone without posting a chapter. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. I wrote it in bits and pieces and read it over several times. I would really really really love to know what you think, this one is so special and personal to me.

Masterlist

Prev | Next

Sugary apple goo.

You think back to Thanksgiving back home, a ruckus constant in the kitchen as dinner is prepared, more than enough food to feed an entire village.  Pots and pans clank together, trays create an echo as they are not-so-carefully placed atop the counter.  Dinner rolls are burned but still enjoyed with warm cinnamon butter.  The potatoes are a touch too lumpy but still desirable with notes of rosemary and an ungodly amount of garlic.  Various smells, both sweet and savory flood the house, your poor, stressed out mother churning out dish after dish, siblings all engaged in some kind of ball game out in the street just after watching the Thanksgiving Day parade.  

You tend to the green bean casserole, an easy dish that you couldn’t screw up even with your limited attention span.  Cream of Mushroom soup from a can seemed so repulsive in itself although it brought the whole dish together.  It didn’t matter that seconds prior it slumped against the green beans still in the shape of the can, nearly gelatinous.  Once stirred in and baked with crispy onions layered over the top, it was a masterpiece.  A five star dish in your book.

It would only be a matter of time before grandma showed up with her famously delicious apple pie, the crust coated in extra amounts of grainy sugar, the dish still piping hot.  And the “sugary apple goo” as you used to call it at the age of three already had your mouth watering just thinking about it, crispy apples so fresh and topped with syrupy caramelized sauce topped off with cinnamon and nutmeg, all wrapped up in a flaky, buttery crust.  

You sigh, piling the apple mixture on top of the homemade graham cracker crust.  It wasn’t clear to you just how lonely Thanksgiving morning would be without anyone around.  Sure, you had Donnie’s to look forward to this evening but until then, you were on your own, the parade quietly playing on the TV though you hadn’t been very impressed with the floats this year.  Holiday depression was kicking in, a kind you hadn’t experienced yet.  They were usually always a happy time, family surrounding you and distracting you from the lonesome thoughts you usually had.  This year it started feeling more like a ton of bricks was sitting on your chest, no one able to aid in providing you with some kind of task such as the honor of making the green bean casserole to ease the pressure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t just make the controversially delicious dish, you had everything stashed in the pantry.  It just didn’t feel right.  It went unnoticed by you that tears were slowly sliding down your cheeks until a fat one landed on your wrist as you finished spooning the apple filling.  

Again?

In that moment you swear you looked the most pitiful you had ever looked in your entire life, tears trailing down your face silently, all alone, homesick.  You should be in your pajamas playing some kind of a board game on the coffee table in the living room, surrounded by your siblings.  Not throwing yourself a pity party while spreading apple goo.  To top it off, your hands had gotten completely covered, the sauce making your fingers undesirably sticky.  You hadn’t quite reached the point of sobs yet though you suppose if you let the goo linger on your hands any longer you would.

Some comforting folk music your grandpa used to play religiously rang through the house though you felt no such comfort.  Not as much as you’d hoped anyway.  It brought a familiar sense of his essence to you, his passing three years ago not settling right in your heart.  It only made you more homesick.

But you weren’t going to let yourself soak in salty tears and sticky apples.  No, you washed your hands in soothing warm water, the sludge sliding right off and into the metal of the sink, eyes puffy and red but void of tears for the time being.  You’d sucked them back and changed the music to something more upbeat, some Elvis that your grandpa had also engrained deeply into your brain though you hoped the faster tempo would brighten your spirits and ignite the happy memories.

Only, it landed you on the couch in a whole new sea of sobs this time as Unchained Melody lingered in the lonely room.  There was no getting a grip on the gut-wrenching, stomach-aching isolation you were feeling, sanity was long gone.  You were supposed to be trimming the dough that was meant to create the criss cross pattern for the pie, you were supposed to be enjoying your glass of wine as you sang under your breath to familiar tunes, you were supposed to be okay.  

It was you, after all, who had made the decision to move, right?  It was you who picked up your entire life and plopped it right in the middle of some unknown mountain town in search of yourself.  You feared that you were just losing yourself instead, forgetting just after a few months what it felt like to be surrounded by loved ones, forgetting how it felt to come home to a full house after a grueling shift at the local Denny’s.  You smelled of burnt coffee and dry eggs, your hair greasier than the literal grease trap, but none of that mattered the second you stepped into the coziness of the living room, all family dysfunction left at the door.

The tears wouldn’t stop though you still managed to force yourself off of the couch, wiping snot away with the back of your hand as you stared at the messy kitchen in despair.  Everything suddenly seemed so…impossible.  How were you meant to do anything while simultaneously questioning your entire existence, your entire meaning of life?

You had been in such disarray that cleaning up as you went didn’t even seem close to an option, nearly every pot and pan either set on top of the stove or thrown in the sink, whisks and spatulas scattered among the mess, and apple skins littering the floor.  Now you were taking in the aftermath, not even having the finished product to show as an excuse for the complete disaster, even the dough still rolled out on the cutting board.  You had hours left to prepare though it felt like seconds ticking by to inevitable disappointment.  

The end of the world felt like it weighed down on your shoulders yet you did what you did best each time.  You set it aside and pressed on.  It was never simple, weak hands grasping the dull knife, slicing through the dough to create uniform strips.  Motivation was running dry, the desire to grace everyone with the most delicious apple pie they’d ever tasted was out the window, you could only do what your body allowed.

And like every other time you had to pull yourself out of the gutter.  Life began to bleed back into your eyes as your creation came back to life.  Puffiness still remained throughout your face, eyes still droopy but slowly your drive kicked back into gear.  Sniffles from previous snotty tears continued but nothing felt better than laying down the last layer of dough over the apple filling, a quest conquered.  

Finishing off your cheap red wine, you reward yourself by licking off the spoon you’d used for the filling.  The kitchen still required a good scrub down but you could live with the mess a little while longer as you indulged in the sweetness.  Something well deserved.  You didn’t even want to think about the nightmare that Christmas was about to become, decorating your tree with only the company of your dreaded thoughts.  That was a scenario you were not willing to wander into, at least not until it would actually happen.  There was no sense in making yourself live through it twice, your brain longing to torture you with irrational possibilities.

Elvis’s voice continues to carry through the living room, a second glass of wine being poured in hopes of easing your homesickness, attempting to neglect thoughts of what you would usually be doing right now.  It was barely working, only leaving you feeling slightly lazy with a good layer of sadness still looming over you like a storm cloud.  There was no extinguishing the sorrows you felt for familiarity and the comfort the holidays were supposed to bring you.

Sudden knocking sends you into a brief panic, unexpected guests were not in the cards for your lonesome morning that had only served to encourage your crybaby tendencies.  At the very least you got a pie out of it.

The knocking persists as you scramble up from your depressing divot on the couch, a certain urgency waving over you at the speed of the knocks.  They were rapid, quick pecks at the wood, a worrisome speed that usually constituted an emergency in the end.  

Why today, why now?

With a heavy sigh, you swing the door open, glass of half-finished wine in one hand while the other runs down your drained face.  You expect some kind of eviction notice; god knows why since you own the place.  Maybe the check hadn’t reached the mortgage company, maybe it had been intercepted in transit.  The last thing you expect on your doorstep is a wide-eyed Eddie cradling a large bowl in one arm.  His gray sweatpants swallow his legs and hang low on his hips, a sliver of his tummy on display in between his t-shirt and pants.

It’s conflicting.  Do you act concerned and start begging the questions:  Did something happen?  Who’s injured?  Or do you exhale in relief as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth even in his somewhat distressed state?  It can’t be that bad if he still finds it in himself to smile, right?

“I, uh, I need help.”  He says sheepishly.

Ever since the night of the hoedown, he’d been a new kind of shy with you.  You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t adore it because truth be told, big bad Eddie Munson who previously chewed you out for being so bashful was now getting a taste of his own medicine.  Except you had been much kinder than he initially was, though it was fun to tease him and force his face to turn a vibrant tomato red.  

“Help?”  You smirk, swirling your wine as if you were some kind of connoisseur.  “My, my, how the tables have turned.”

“Bambi.”  He groans, still maintaining focused eye contact with the wood planks of your porch.

“Eddie.”  

It’s said so softly, in a way that reduces him to a puddle, his knees could give out at any moment if you so much as looked at him a certain way which had been why he refused to catch your gaze.  He internally curses himself for automatically counting under his breath, unable to stop himself: one, two, three, one, two, three.

In an instant your face falls, he only ever counted when he was stressed from what you could gather.  It was a learning curve, navigating Eddie’s quirks.

“Hey.”  You soothe, gingerly grabbing his wrist with your free hand.  “Hey, what’s wrong?”  

His curls bounce with a shake of his head, his eyes fluttering shut.  The counting stops but he still comes across as fuzzy.  Disoriented.  

“Come inside.”  You whisper, gently tugging him through the door, your wine abandoned at the entry table in the process.  “It’s freezing out.”

Instinctually he hands you the bowl he’d been cradling close to his body with a wooden spoon sticking out.  Upon further inspection, a mountain of mashed potatoes-or should you say lumps of potatoes are piled up within the bowl.  The skins are still intact, way too many if he intended to make smooth and creamy potatoes.  They’d be much less than enjoyable in the state they were currently in.

“I fucked them up.”  He whispers.

The sight you’re met with is that of a small child in a grown man’s body, his large eyes pleading.  You’re forced to realize that today may very well be much worse for him than it is for you.  He’d warned you that he didn’t do holidays and here he was, a nervous wreck turning up on your doorstep in a panic with lumpy potatoes.  And suddenly you felt so selfish.

“That’s okay.”  You assure him, tracing a tender thumb over his bicep.  He looked so lost.  “Eddie, it’s okay.”  You repeat with a nod.

“I just, I was gonna buy something from the store, and then, I just thought–I dunno maybe I’d at least try.”  He tugs on his curls, a bit too harshly for your liking.  “I don’t know why I even tried.”  He sighs in defeat.

It’s enough to break your heart.

“Eddie.”  

Turmoil flashes in his eyes, stress apparent in the way his brows furrow and his frown lines grow deeper.  His lips are red, most likely bitten, and he can’t stop twisting one of his rings around his finger.  He looks to be as much of a wreck as you felt although the symptoms seem to be much more apparent in his appearance than yours.  Your slightly swollen eyes were nothing compared to his tousled curls, anxieties littered across his face and trembling hands unable to be subtly hidden without the crutch of sleeves.

“I, uh, I-I shouldn’t have bothered.”  He mutters, reaching for the door.

You intercept him, your hand wrapping around his elbow while you attempt to meet his eyes.  He freezes in his escape, your touch rendering him paralyzed, your fingers suddenly too determined in digging into the meat of his arm.  Not meanly.  Never meanly.  More concerned.  Concerned for the way he cowers away the second he’s offered any fraction of help.  Perhaps it’s hypocritical of you to regard him with such worry when you yourself present the same behaviors under the same circumstances and expect no such treatment.

Your expression offers a certain softness that he’s come across one too many times since you’d barged into his life and taken his heart hostage.  You’d never know you committed such a crime.  And he’d never outright tell you of the ache that sat deep in his chest that he had no clue how to satiate.  All he knew was that he could not jeopardize this.  If he could get through the holidays, if he could get to January and you were still around, then, and only then would he be convinced that he had finally lifted whatever fucked up, out-of-this-world curse that had haunted him all his life.

“It’s okay.”  Barely above a whisper, you assure him.

Eddie doesn’t remember making his way into your kitchen, he can’t recall your delicate hand pulling him along until you let go to discard his potato concoction onto the counter and he realizes he’s taken the warmth for granted in a haze of existential dread.  Like a lost puppy, he stares at your fingertips as they linger on the counter while you lean over to reach for an empty casserole dish.  The entirety of your kitchen cabinets had thrown up all over the counters, a reflection of the way his brain felt.  Scattered.  

“Potatoes are actually super complicated.”  

His ears perk up, unsure of how to conjure up a response.  Instead, he raises his eyebrows, fearful of how dumb he could make himself look with just a few syllables.  It wasn’t like him to care so deeply what others thought of him.

“That’s why I avoid them.  Instead–”  You turn around only to pull out a can of green beans and a can of cream of mushroom.  “-work smarter, not harder.”

Eddie knows he should be hanging onto every word you say and usually he would be, he knows.  Except he can’t help but tune into the melody of Blue Christmas that had been echoing off the kitchen walls from your record player across the room.

The damn record player.  And the records.

He didn’t realize how much the records still affected him.  He had his own collection now, sure.  But anything that resembled the essence of his Mama, lived safely and soundly on its dedicated shelf in his room, untouched.  It took him years to rebuild Mama’s collection.

“Sorry can we-”  He makes his way toward the record player, his face contorted nearly painfully before lifting the needle.  “I just-I can’t think.”

Your motions were paused, can opener halfway through the can of beans as your eyes meet him with questions splayed across your face.  You don’t ask them.  An understanding smile works its way across your lips and god, he doesn’t know why you’re so patient with him after he stepped into your house and suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to shut off your music.  As he strides back into the kitchen, a series of apologies haven't even left his mouth and yet-

“So…Green Bean Casserole.”  You state, fingers tapping against the tin of each can.  “And Sugary Apple Goo.”  A vague gesture toward the uncooked pie.  “Kind of a…weird duo.  Or it will be if I actually get it in the oven-”

“Sorry, what?”  

“Apple pie.  The apple pie.  At home we just call it sugary apple goo, don’t ask why it’s just–it’s just a thing we do.”  You clarify, shoving the dessert into the comforting warmth of the oven, shivering at the sensation as goosebumps begin to prick your skin.

“Apple goo.”  He repeats.  A raised brow disappearing beyond his messy bangs.

Eddie almost forgets the reason why he’d been in such disarray, almost forgets why he even bothered knocking on your door in the first place, only remembers the fact that he was in a panicked state.

“Yeah.”  You sigh.

You busy yourself with slopping the now drained green beans into a nearby glass bowl.  Your blotchy skin and puffy eyes catch in the stream of sunlight, the kitchen window betraying you as it showcases your true state.  Avoiding those large brown eyes is the best you can do, the theory that if you can’t see him he can’t see you dumbly being put to use no matter how aware you are that it makes no sense.  Maybe if you act “okay enough”, he’ll chalk it up to the common cold, placing the responsibility for your rudolph-like nose on the yearly infection.

What you fail to realize is that by this point, he’s become too familiar with your teary eyes and sad worry lines that only seemed prominent in your times of distress.  Times that he had regretfully been the cause of previously.  Words can’t escape his practically sewn-shut-mouth, all sounds dying long before forming on his tongue.  It’s impossible to create comfort when he himself has trouble doing so for himself.  How could he possibly offer such comfort to someone who deserved kinder words from someone of a higher regard?

“Here, dump this in and mix.”  You instruct, forcing a can of cream of mushroom and a wooden spoon in his hands, yanking him out of his mind.

There’s no room for protest, not that he even intended to.  Not when you’re standing there with the ghost of tear tracks down your cheeks.  Not when you’re this kind.  Not when you’re you.  

“Okay.”  He mutters, a disgusting sound filling his ears from the lumpy soup falling into the bowl.

“After that, pour it in here.”  You place a ceramic casserole dish to his right, the dish nearly too large to fit on the cluttered counter though you’re too occupied with tidying up other parts of the kitchen to bother.

“Got it.”

Eddie Munson absolutely hates Thanksgiving.  But he doesn’t mind it so much when you’re rustling around behind him, a silent conversation hanging in the air that neither of you are alone in your holiday sorrows, whatever they may be.

You don’t ask why he continues counting under his breath behind you or why his hands are shaking.

And he doesn’t ask why tears linger in your eyes or why you pause to regain your composure after dropping a pan a bit too loudly for your liking, your lip wobbling.

Because the collective understanding is that neither of you is okay.  And maybe that’s okay.

–

“Careful, the bottom is–”

“Shit!”

“-hot.”

A ringed hand waves around in an effort to rid it of the burning sensation caused by the bottom of the piping hot casserole dish.  Eddie releases a series of curses, the side of the dish pushed against his chest as he balances it between his body and his single arm protected by one of your generously donated dish rags.  Your wide eyes caution him in his balancing act, a perfectly crafted green bean casserole at risk due to his negligence as he had taken the liberty of knocking on the door.

“What the fuck, how can fuckin’ beans be so goddamn hot?”  Brown eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, his fingertips more than likely singed an angry red.

It’s no laughing matter, not according to the scowl that makes its way across his handsome features but you can’t stop the pull of your lips from forming a large grin, giggles caught in the back of your throat.  His irritation disappears just as quickly as it came, harsh edges blurring into softness at the sight of your puffed out cheeks, inflated due to the humor just dying to crawl out of your mouth.

“Oh, shut up.”  A nudge of his shoulder against yours has you shaking your head, laughter finally escaping your perfectly glossed lips.

He could write paragraphs about them if it didn’t seem so creepy and stalkerish.  So he allowed himself the tiniest of glances, only hoping to paint the full picture in his head ever since you’d quickly puckered your lips in front of your mirror at home to complete your finishing touches while he viewed from the porch where he waited in his black button up and nicest pair of jeans.  He’d never been so jealous over a tube of lipgloss.  In fact, he’d never in his life been jealous of a tube of lipgloss and he never felt like more of a loser than in that moment.

“I told you.”  You mutter, an endearing side eye delivered right into his line of sight.  It was something almost child-like, something innocent and not at all like what he’d ever really been on the receiving end of.  Maybe because there was a certain flirtiness you were hinting at although he was no expert and had no right to assume.

“I told you.”  He mumbles back with a higher pitch, mocking you.

You turn toward him, a comeback on the tip of your tongue when his own tongue interrupts with a taunt, peeking out between his lips swiftly, his nose scrunching up meanly before his full attention is back on the door as it creaks open.  And then, a quick wink that only you yourself were a witness to, only creating a stir in your brain as you decipher that no one else would be able to confirm the action.

“Hey!”  Donnie greets, arms flung up in excitement as she ushers you into her welcoming home, smells infiltrating your nose, sweet and savory galore.

Before either you or Eddie can even get a simple “hello” in, she’s talking your ear off, something about who all is already in the living room, how far along the turkey is, where the bathroom is, all while guiding you into the spacious dining room.  She must have set out her fine china, the gorgeous dishes set all around the table lined with champagne colored silver on the edges of the plates.  Two tables had been pushed together, creating enough space for the large number of guests expected.  In the center sat an exquisite arrangement of various orange-hued flowers and some greenery.  

The house was comforting; not too large and not too small, a two story dream that no doubt had acres of backyard.  The Christmas tree had already been set up and decorated, the branches and lights hinting at you from the other room where men roared with laughter, a football game blaring from the TV that contrasted with the familiar voice of Frank Sinatra coming from the stereo.  Combined turkey and Santa decorations adorned the interior everywhere you glanced, surfaces that would usually be empty year around were occupied with tacky little figurines that were more endearing than anything.  Plastic garland traced the rails of the stairs, littered in fake plastic cranberries, the front room being far more grand than your entire home as you inspected it through the archway of the dining room.

Suddenly your nerves were simmering down, a familiar feeling nestling into the bottom of your chest as your shoulders fell from their tensed position, your fingers letting up on their grip on the pie tin you clutched so desperately.  Women squealed from the kitchen, a series of “oh my god”s erupting into the rest of the house, some kind of juicy gossip initiating several gasps as well as some laughter.  Your homesickness began to lie dormant, warmth overtaking you as Donnie went on and on about her family members, which ones to avoid sitting next to at all costs and warning you of the aunties that would corner you and beg for details on your love life.

“Just pretend I’m calling you and run as fast as you can in the other direction.”  She advises.  “And if that doesn’t work, tell ‘em you had too much wine and that it’s making a reappearance.  They’ll scatter like flies.”

You laugh along, taking mental notes as she grabs the pie from you, complimenting the smell as she sets it among several other desserts, a whole table dedicated only to sweets.  When she goes to grab the green bean casserole from Eddie, you can’t help but pause and watch as his doe eyes trace his surroundings, a clearly unfamiliar environment to him.  There’s uncertainty dripping from his demeanor, his single finger tapping against the dish:  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

“Green bean casserole-Eddie, do you know how many green bean casserole we’ve got?  Like you all read each other’s mind, I swear.”  Donnie jokes.

“It’s-um, it’s hot.”  He cautions her.

Sauntering toward the main table, Donnie proudly sets it on top of a place mat to protect the wood from the heat.  Eddie doesn’t budge, seemingly glued to the carpet, his hands still lingering in the air like he had still been holding the dish.

“You okay?”  You mouth to him, looking up into his worried eyes, only hoping to soothe the crease in between his eyebrows.

He nods though you suspect he’s being a bit dishonest.  

“Oh, c’mon Eddie!  You know I’m just pullin’ your leg.”  Donnie reassures, a heavy hand falling against his shoulder.  “Shoot, I have to go check on the oven.  Yell for me if you need anything, both of you, okay?”  

“Sure.”  You mumble.  “Thank you.”

“There’s a fully stocked bar right over there, help yourselves.”  She calls as she backs herself up toward the kitchen.  “But don’t go too crazy.”  She sends a knowing glance, recalling both of your tendencies to take on more than you can handle.

“Why don’t we get some air?”  You suggest, unable to comprehend exactly just what was happening in Eddie’s mind although you knew enough to understand that he was miles outside of his comfort zone.

“No, no.  I’m good.”  A cleared throat doesn’t reassure you enough but you let it go for the time being.  Prying wasn’t going to help.  “”M gonna get a beer.”  He murmurs, chain jingling from his belt as he makes his way toward what you can only assume is the kitchen where Donnie had just disappeared to.

As pathetic as it seemed, you weren’t going to allow yourself to wander around alone, vulnerable to various conversations trapping you in small talk with strangers: an absolute nightmare.  Timidly, you follow behind Eddie at a safe distance, holding your breath as you take in the new room full of busy women and many glasses of wine.  The smell of gravy heavily lingers, a tinge of the sourly sweet alcohol peeking through as you release your breath and inhale finally.  

And then-they were all over him.  Sweet older women, ranging from around fifty plus years, all doting on him, cooing at him while complimenting how tall he is and his handsome features.  It only forces you to lean your hip against the counter and take in the most captivating scene you’d ever witnessed.  His cheeks redden, his entire face matching shortly after as he nods in response, small “thank you”s sneaking past his lips with a sheepish grin threatening to spread across his face, dimples prominent.  It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, has no recognition of the power he currently holds.

“Is this one yours?!”  One woman shrieks, taking your hands in her bony ones.

“Oh-”

“You’re so lucky, he’s such a looker!”  Another chimes in.

“We’re not-”

“You better hope he holds onto all that hair throughout the years.”  A third nods.

Eddie’s face has never been redder, crimson painting his usually pale skin, a beer pinched in between his fingers as he avoids every single eye in the room.  You can only imagine the look on your own face, maybe slightly mortified with a hint of pink pulling at your cheeks due to the unnecessary attention.

“Alright, alright.”  Donnie interjects.  “Enough, you’re gonna scare ‘em away before they’ve even had a bite to eat!”  She waves her hands around, dramatics on full display as she shoos them away like pigeons.

“Thank you.”  You whisper, eyes large and surprised.

“Run, run.”  Donnie displays wide eyes, gently shoving you both out of the kitchen.

–

Throughout the evening, you kept Eddie in your peripheral.  Sure, he was grown and fully capable of taking care of himself but it didn’t worry you any less when holidays weren’t necessarily his favorite thing.  Anxieties lurked in the back of your mind the second he started counting earlier, never once fading away no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that he was fine, now bantering back and forth with Sam.

“That Steve kid really can’t dance.”  Nathan laughs, pulling you back into the initial conversation you were having, perched on the couch with a glass of wine set in front of you on the coffee table courtesy of Donnie’s excellent hosting skills.

“Well that’s why he excused himself off the dancefloor.”  You softly smile, earning another hearty laugh from the man.

“Hey, but Eddie’s no better.”  He jokes, taking a swig of his beer.  “Looked like a damn giraffe stumbling over his own legs.”

“I wasn’t very coordinated either!”  You defend.  “We were a hot mess.”  You bury your face in your hands.

“Yeah, I bet Eddie thought you were hot.”

The recliner adjacent to you creaks beneath Jett as he makes himself comfortable, slouching with a beer in his hand.

“Whoa.”  Nathan leans forward, ready to reprimand him.  “What-”

“That’s okay.”  You speak softly, your hand covering the older man’s as an act of keeping the peace, something you did best.  Several seconds of contemplation and a glance across the room toward Eddie change your mind.  

“Actually-it’s not.”  You turn your body toward Jett, a man–child before your eyes that refused to even look at you after his comment.  Your hands shake and your cheeks heat with embarrassment, chalking your sudden confidence up to the glass and a half of wine you indulged in.  

“What?”  Jett furrows his brows, examining his beer far too aggressively as a means to avoid you.

“It’s not okay.”  You whisper, a wimpy excuse of a defense.

“What’s gotten into you, boy?”  Nathan scolds through gritted teeth.

Jett’s nearly-black eyes resemble something opposite in comparison to the warmth in those across the room currently harboring a twinkle in an engaged conversation.  The boy is unable to get a word in as you quietly begin to address him.

“Look, I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”  You regret the tremble in your tone, confrontation was well out of your comfort zone, especially with someone who had been so hostile for no reason.  It wasn’t in your DNA to be the “bad guy” even when it would benefit your wellbeing.

Something in your words softens Jett’s eyes, pulls a piece of him back into reality.  You weren’t terrorizing him and he couldn’t seem to grasp that ever since that night you had argued with Eddie behind the bar.  And you hadn’t spoken a word out of line but you weren’t clueless.  Clearly he had an agenda against you and Eddie, it never left your mind since Eddie mentioned that Jett got all over-protective suddenly that night and took it out on him.  But what could you do when all he did was puff out his chest rather than have a decent conversation?  His frayed emotions were not your responsibility, you owed him nothing if he was going to insist on acting like a toddler in adult situations.  You suppose some of it could be due to his lack of years behind yourself and Eddie, Jett still a teenager, almost twenty whereas you had been in your twenties for a few years now.  It wasn’t an excuse, just your brain attempting to work out his logic.

“You didn’t–you didn’t do anything wrong.”  He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

You don’t offer any words.  Only an expectant look.  Expecting of some kind of explanation as to why he’d been acting so cruel.  And as if the universe decided you didn’t live in enough anguish with your homesickness that morning paired with the current unwanted confrontation, Eddie’s eyes met yours for a brief moment before darting away, a deep sigh and suddenly slouching shoulders clearly indicating some kind of defeat before he quietly stepped out of the room.

“Can we get into this another time?”

You don’t wait for a response, excusing yourself to slip out of the room and follow the trail of cold out the front door, the chill seeping into your bones as your cradle your arms close to yourself.  The porch is spacious, something you hadn’t taken notice of earlier when arriving.  To your left, Eddie sits on a wooden bench with the family name “Scott” carved into it.  A cigarette takes its place between his fingers, his lighter flickering while he lets out a frustrated groan.  He places the stick between his lips and cups the flame to hide it from the wind, finally succeeding in lighting it, puffs of smoke escaping through the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not fragile, Bambi.  Stop following me around.”  He mutters, pulling the cigarette from his lips.  There’s no malice detected in his words, just something lacking hope as he stares straight ahead.

Carefully, you sit at the very edge of the bench, your skirt a tad too short to allow you to fully sit back due to the cold surface.  You catch a wave of his warmth as he rests his arm on his thigh.  It hurts, how far away he feels even being inches from you; his mind might as well be on Jupiter.  A momentary glance over at you causes him to sigh deeply, his head dipping down while he shakes it in disappointment.

“And dammit!”  Eddie snaps, face twitching in aggravation.  “I don’t have a jacket for you this time.  Learn how to dress for the cold.”  He gestures to your posture, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt to savor any warmth, and your jaw clenched shut as a means to keep your teeth from chattering though you can’t seem to contain the shivers nearly rattling your bones.

“I don’t need one.”

He scoffs, disbelief evident in his movements, a fidgeting hand reaching up to scratch the barely-there stubble at his jaw.  

“I don’t!”  You lie.

You were never one to willingly be dishonest but a little white lie in this case didn’t seem like the end of the world.  Not when Eddie’s fragile state of mind seemed to gnaw away at him.  You wouldn’t leave him out for the wolves to feed on him; wolves being his never ending thoughts that always without fail, won him over and forced him to crawl back into his comfort zone of isolation.  You suppose you weren’t so innocent either, always succumbing to the very same habits.

“Go back inside.”  A flick of his cigarette ash towards the ground ignites in the thin layer of snow barely coating the porch before extinguishing.

You can’t help the furrow in your brows, staring at him as if to figure him out, attempting to glance into his large coffee colored irises, to no avail.  His shiny eyes dodge your attempts, the windows of his soul closed off, even from you.  Not that you were immediately entitled, though you figure with each trauma he had shared with you, he’d at least be able to look you in the eye.

“Come with me.”  You chirp.  “We’ll taste all the wines.  C’mon, and then we’ll be nice and hungry.  Drunk eating is the best.”  You extend a hand out toward him, your freshly painted nails perfectly imperfect in his peripheral.

“I’m not in the mood, Bambi.”

His gravelly voice has a certain effect on you, one you find not appropriate to dissect right now.  He lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, the chance to take one more drag stolen from him as you pluck it from his fingers, tossing it into the snow without regret, stomping your foot on it for good measure.

“Well, get in the mood.  Let’s go.”  

Boldly, you tug at his arm, unable to move him by yourself, you know.  But he willingly melts into your touch, allowing you to pull him up despite his protesting frown.  Though he follows you to stand, he doesn’t budge much further than that as you try to drag him back into the cozy warmth of the house.  The rounded tip of his nose glows red, the threat of a cold only pushing you to tug on his sleeve with no success in ushering him inside.

“I think ‘m just gonna head home.  You think someone else could give you a ride back?”  The question is hesitant, no longer wanting to participate in the festivities but still concerned for your well-being, especially if you were going to continue to drink.  

Your track record with alcohol wasn’t exactly great and he’d never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn’t there just because the sight of you talking to Jett had left a bad taste in his mouth.  But he couldn’t stand it any longer, watching you act so graceful all the time, especially to someone you didn’t particularly like, and then having to pretend that a simple kiss on the cheek didn’t absolutely wreck him.  A kiss that you hadn’t since mentioned, and he wasn’t going to humiliate himself by insinuating that you wanted him in that way.  No one wanted him in that way.

“What?”  You breathe, face shifting into a sadness Eddie wanted to kick himself for.  “No, you can’t go–”

“I’m sure Jett is ready and willing to entertain you.”

Low blow.  He could always count on himself to deliver a low blow at the worst of times.

Eddie knew now that you had a distaste for Jett, he knew that.  And yet he was stupid enough to continue using Jett as ammo against you for no reason other than his own insecurity.  If he continued to push you away then it wouldn’t hurt so bad when you realized he was scum of the earth.  Trailer trash.  A nobody.  That’s what he kept telling himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  You fume, crossing your arms.

“I don’t know, Bambi.  You tell me cause I can’t figure you out.”

The use of his nickname for you stitched together with words of anguish only further confused you.  You couldn’t seem to win.

“Can’t–can’t figure me out?!”  You widen your eyes at him, only hoping to convey how ridiculous of a statement it is.  “Can’t figure me out.  What about you?!  You’re the one no one can figure out!”  

You’re on the verge of whining, begging in a sense.  Pleading with the most stubborn man in the world and god only knows what you’ll do if he doesn’t stand down.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.”  He states simply, monotone.  It makes you want to yank your hair out by the roots and offer it to him, asking him if it’s enough.  If it’s enough to shut up the voices in his head.

“Yeah?  Because you don’t wanna let people in?!”  Uncharacteristically, you jab a finger into his chest, frustration making itself known across your face and you only know because his eyes ever so slightly soften.  “Eddie, all you do is give me mixed signals!  How many times do I have to tell you I want nothing to do with Jett?!  What do I have to do to get that through your thick fucking head?!”  He tries to get a word in but you don’t give him an opportunity.  “No, seriously!  I need an instruction manual or something because I’m trying!  I have been trying-”

“-I didn’t ask you to!”  He finally interrupts, sorrow filling his eyes.

With a deep breath, you calm your heaving chest.  It’s apparent you’re no longer cold, your skin hot from working yourself up.  Steam may as well be coming from your ears though it wasn’t your intention to get so irritated with him.  

“I wanted to.  I want to.”  Your voice comes out softer, a gentler approach to his sudden internal conflict.

“No.”

Turning away, he doesn’t quite move to leave but there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s trying to shut you out.  He’s trying to escape like some kind of feral animal but you refuse to give in.  You refuse to let him.  

“Yes.  Eddie–look at me!”  You demand with a small pull of his arm.

“No.”

He goes to turn his body even further away from you but the firm hold you have on his bicep stops him.  He keeps his gaze on the floorboards below, his nose twitching and eyes burning with the threat of tears.  You only know because you’re all too familiar with the mandatory frown that comes with holding them back.

“Stop doing that.  Please.”  You beg.

“I can’t be here right now–”

“What makes you think I can?”

He’s silent.  The world instantly feels so quiet, tiny snow flurries fluttering around you, making you feel as if you’re the only two people on Earth.  Echoes of the celebrating and hollering inside are faint although they don’t do much to pop the bubble you find yourselves in.  Then he breaks the silence, daring to plead with you this time.

“Bambi, please.”  He croaks.

Your initial thought is, please what?  You’d been pleading with him back and forth for god knows how many minutes straight and here he was doing it right back to you.  And for what?  It wasn’t a good enough plea, not for you.  You weren’t ready to let it go, if you even knew what “it” was.

“No, you’re coming inside and you don’t have to associate with me if you don’t want to but you’re coming inside.”

Your demand only seems to irritate him, his brows knitting together while he pinches the bridge of his nose in between his fingers.  If he was agitated then you were about to become enraged.  And that is not something you wanted.  You never wanted to display that kind of emotion toward him but he was practically pulling it out of you and you had to fight against it.  No one had ever been able to pull such a reaction out of you, not ever.  Even if you had gotten pretty close, you swallowed it down and hid it.

“Why?!”  Eddie seethes.

His outburst takes you back, though with the aggravation boiling within you, you were able to contain any reaction he was seeking, if any.  That wasn’t the case for long though as you then launch yourself into another tantrum after staring for a second too long at his snarled lip.

“Because believe it or not, I care, Eddie!”  You practically wail, your voice becoming hoarse.  “If you leave I’m coming with you because I’m not leaving you alone.  Not on Thanksgiving.”  Your head shakes in denial.

Against your own will, a single tear trails down your cheek and the moment you feel it, you’re rapidly wiping it away, hoping he never even saw it when you knew damn well his umber eyes followed it all the way down your face.  He only pulls his gaze away.

“I’m leaving.  You’re staying here.”  He decides, regret etched into his features.

In a final attempt to escape your grasp, he succeeds, feeling your fingertips linger for one last second before drifting away as he turns and makes his way down the porch steps, wood protesting beneath him.  The noise is the only proof you have that he’s actually leaving, that he actually feels he’s not worthy enough to stay.  

You refuse to give up so easily.

Your feet are already on a mission, nearly sprinting down the stairs even with the threat of slipping on the minimal amount of ice beginning to freeze over.  Eddie pays no mind to the fast paced footsteps crunching against the gravel behind him, making his way over to Sugar with his head hung low.  Your heart is racing, not just because you suddenly decided to sprint a few yards but because a healthy dose of dopamine has started coursing throughout your body, a good amount of anxiety accompanying it but not deferring you any longer.

Eddie makes it to Sugar, his hand reaching for the door only for it to be forced shut with a self-manicured hand.  If he didn’t know who the hand belonged to he’d be chewing the owner out for daring to touch his beloved truck.  Instead he rolls his eyes and turns as he prepares to reprimand you in a much more gentle manner than he would anyone else.

Except he doesn’t even have the chance when your lips are suddenly pressed to the corner of his mouth, your body pushing him against Sugar.  His hands freeze mid air, his eyes wide open.  Your hands are resting on his chest and–he can’t breathe.  You pull away, inches from him and he can’t breathe, he can’t speak, he can’t move.  As far as he’s concerned he isn’t even human anymore.  

“Stay.”  You whisper, your breath fanning over slightly chapped lips.

His lips won’t stop tingling, he can’t grasp the concept of what just occurred.  He refuses to even touch you for fear that you might disappear right before him.  Hell, he’s not even sure he’s allowed to.

It’s difficult to gauge his reaction, his heavy breath lingering with the smell of his cigarette that would probably gross you out had it been anyone else but for some reason, because it’s him, you don’t mind very much.  You must smell strongly of wine which isn’t always pleasant so you figure you’re even.

“Please stay.”   You repeat, nudging your nose into his.

It’s like he’s in a trance, his eyelids becoming lazy and his body relaxing when you reach up to trace your thumb ever so slightly over his jaw.  His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezing shut, and you can hear a gulp in his throat.  With his eyes still shut, he nods and before you can process it, he launches himself into your arms in a tight embrace, wrapping himself around you, his face buried in your neck.  A wetness catches against your skin catches your attention, Eddie’s body heaving slightly and you just know.

You know that the tear stains on your skin mean more to him than you could ever imagine.

Slowly, your fingers tangle in his hair, threading into the curls at the nape of his neck to lightly scratch his scalp soothingly.  The way he grips onto you tighter, his body shaking, only confirms that physical touch and affection was not a luxury he was allowed in his lifetime.  If he let you, you’d spend thousands of hours holding him, even in the cold.  Whatever he needed.

But the snow flurries began to grow larger and the wind started to pick up.  And you’d be damned if you allowed yourself and Eddie to catch a nasty cold when you could be doing the same thing inside next to the fire.  Though, as you thought about it, Eddie would probably shy away from your touch in front of everyone.  And that didn’t anger you in the way it normally would.  Because you couldn’t blame him, someone so touch starved that he began to sob the second he was willingly kissed and told he was wanted, for shying away from showers of physical affection in front of peers that only know him to be big, bad, Eddie Munson.  It would be too much of a change and you weren’t willing to force that upon him.

So as the cold grew more unforgiving, you continued to hold him.  He would be the one to decide when he felt he wanted to part from you.  And if you both got sick, so be it.  A stupid cold would be worth the price if you were able to provide him the touch he went so long without and so badly craved, even if he didn’t quite know it at first.

Eddie parted from you far sooner than anticipated.  His cheeks were rosy, his rounded nose matching, endearingly so.  His eyelashes were dotted with a few lingering tears, his eyes rimmed with red but sadness was absent from his features.  Instead there was a fondness dripping from his expression and though he parted from the embrace to gaze down at you, he still clung to you like his life depended on it. 

“Can I–can I kiss you?”  He whispers shakily.

You want to laugh, only because he’s acting as if you didn’t kiss him in the first place.  But you bury it deep down and only let a smile blossom.  

“Please.”  You whisper back.

This time, you’re more than happy to beg.  

Hesitantly, his shaky hand cups your jaw, the warmth from his skin more than welcome as he gently slots his lips against yours.  He’s slow with it, taking his time.  As you move in rhythm with him, you encourage him, moving his arms to circle your waist, pressing yourself closer and letting your hands travel up his chest to lock behind his neck.  

“I can’t stop.”  He laughs quietly, continuously pecking your lips like he can’t get enough.

“Don’t.”  You giggle into his mouth.

Teeth clash against teeth and though he hasn’t quite graduated to using tongue yet, you have the urge to introduce him.  Before you can pass your tongue along his plump bottom lip, he curses under his breath as he pulls away, only causing worry to spread across your face.

“You’re freezing.”  His hands rub up and down your arms to somewhat heat you up and only then do you realize your face feels completely numb.

“No, I’m fine.”  You protest against your better judgment.  It wasn’t exactly fitting to be in tights while one of the first snow falls of the year ensued.

“You’ll be a popsicle in like three seconds.”

Eddie softly smiles, reaching for your hand and tugging you with him toward the house.  A whine escapes you, a pathetic whimper but you manage to shuffle yourself along with him.  Before entering the realm of reality beyond the front door, Eddie turns to you, stars in his eyes, something glimmering.

“How’s my nose?  Snotty?”  He grins, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

~end~

Masterlist

Prev | Next

tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

[vioartemis]

I’ll die with you

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: Months after the 2022 massacre, you reunite with someone dear to you. But the happiness in only temporary; a new killer is targeting you. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 a/n: This will probably be a multi chapters story with very irregular posting :)) Warnings: blood, injuries, Ghostface stuff, angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

"Hey, I'm not going to disappear okay?"

You laughed as your girlfriend pouted when you pushed her away gently. You were lying on her bed, her on top of you kissing you desperately as if you were about to vanish.

"It's just two days Tara, maybe less knowing her"

"Well that's still too long! Who's going to cuddle with me if you're not here? And my morning kiss?"

"I'll make up this, I promise" you kiss her "After this weekend"

She groaned slightly, disappointed. But she knew it was important for you.

"Can we stop talking now? I want to enjoy our last moment together..."

"Don't be dramatic, it's not our last moment together. When you say it like that it looks like we will never see each other again..."

She didn't answer and kissed you again, desperately.

You hadn't been separated in a while since the... incident. You were so used to be on each other all day it was hard being without her for too long.

Her lips were soon on your neck, placing hot, wet kisses here, sucking dark purple marks there, hands everywhere on you. You let out a sight, fingers tangled in her hair.

"Tara..."

She hummed against your skin, hands sliding under your shirt. You felt her smile on your shoulder when she felt you shivering under her cold fingers.

You arrived late at the train station, hair still a little messy. You rolled down your window and looked around for the person you were waiting. She wasn't difficult to spot with her blue suit.

You texted her you were there. She looked up, and starting walking toward you, a smile replacing her previous frown.

"Where did you get that car? Are you even allowed to drive it?" she asked as she took place next to you

"I stole it"

She gave you a "are you serious" look. You rolled your eyes, smiling.

"I'm kidding, I bought it. And yes, I have a licence"

You started to drive home calmly.

"How was New York?" you asked

"Oh you know, with work I don't really have time to visit"

"You know that's not what I meant"

"I know"

"... It's going to get better right...? Does it ever go away...?"

"Not completely, never. It's normal to feel that way. You cared about him, we both did. Time will ease the pain, but he will still be in our hearts. Forever"

She had never been good at reassuring anyone, but this time she found the right words.

Months after, your dad's death still hurt. It was normal, you knew it. You wanted to get over it, like everyone told you, but there was always that part of yourself that still believed he would come home.

"I'm back" he would say with a smile "Sorry I made you wait, the delivery guy forgot the sauce, again"

But that never happened. It never would.

With your mom out of town, you didn't think too much about him. Or at least that's what you said not to worry Tara. Now that she was back, even if it was only a weekend, the good old days came back, flashing before your eyes.

You parked in front of the house, tears in your eyes.

"How can you not cry...?" you asked with a nervous laugh, trying to light up the mood

"I'm Gale Weathers, I don't cry. Not in public"

"Of course, why did I even asked?"

You both smiled a little, getting out of the car and inside the house.

You started making diner, telling her some things you learnt while she was gone, trying to give her ideas for a new novel.

"Why don't you tell me about your life? It would make an interesting book. A spicy one for sure"

So she saw the hickeys.

"Mom!"

You blushed hard, embarrassed.

"No you're right, writing about people only attracts psychos. I wouldn't want your girlfriend or you getting hurt"

"Thank you?"

You both laughed and had a good time watching your favorite series while eating, until her phone rung.

"What does he wants? I told him I was off this weekend" she mumbled

"Pick up"

"What?"

"Maybe it's important"

She looked at you for a second, before getting up and taking the call. When she came back, you already knew what she was going to say.

"They learnt I was back here and now they want me to-"

"I know. It's fine, we had a good time, you can go"

"I'm sorry Y/n..."

She hugged you tight.

"You're Gale Weathers, the best reporter. No wonder everyone wants you"

She smiled a little, relieved you weren't mad, and was quick to go.

It always ended up that way with her. But it wasn't her fault. You knew she ment it when she said she was sorry.

You sighed and called your girlfriend.

"Guess who has to work even on her days off?" you said when she picked up

"She's gone already?"

"Yep. That was quicker than I thought... want to come over to keep me company?"

"Is that even a question? I'm on my way, wait for me baby"

You smiled at her words.

"Don't hang up, I want to talk to you on your way here"

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna tell me? Tease me?"

"Maybe..." you said innocently

The landline suddenly started ringing, making you jump.

"Shit"

"What's going on?"

"Landline. Who still uses this?" you mumbled

You walked to the phone and picked up, putting Tara on speaker so you could still hear her.

"Hello?"

"Is this uh... Y/n Riley?"

"Depends. What do you want?"

"You ordered something on our website, it should be there"

"Why do you call me for that?"

"Well... I think we send you the wrong package..."

"Y/n what's going on? Who is it?"

You texted your girlfriend about the situation while talking with the guy.

"I suppose you want me to check?"

"Yep"

"And uh... what did I ordered again? I don't remember"

"I think it was... a painful death."

You hang up immediately and let go of the phone. A voice changer. He was using a fucking voice changer.

"Baby! Is everything okay?"

"Yeah... just a stupid guy using a voice changer for a stupid prank..."

"Are you sure of that?"

The voice came from behind you. You turned around so quickly your neck hurt.

You felt your heart drop in your chest when you saw a tall, dark silhouette looking at you through a Ghostface mask.

"Hello, Y/n"

You were frozen in place, incapable of moving. The Ghostface took a step closer to you, tilting his head slightly, knife in hand.

That's when your legs came back. You ran as quickly as you could, trying to tell Tara on the phone.

"Tara it's Ghostface! Fuck I-"

You couldn't finish your sentence. He grabbed you violently by the waist, making you let go of your phone. It slid on the floor.

He stabbed your abdomen, a hand over your mouth. You let out a muffled scream, and tried to escape his strong grip.

You managed to bit his hand, hard. He kicked you forward, swearing under his breath.

You barely had time to grab a lamp nearby and turn around that he was already on you again, fingers wrapping around your neck, choking you.

You dropped the lamp as he lifted you up before pressing your back against the chimney. Breathing was becoming difficult. To make things better, he sank his blade into you again, twisting it painfully this time. Blood splattered on the floor.

You struggled against him, trying to get his hand off of your neck. But he was stronger than you, you couldn't do anything.

You reached behind you, desperate, when your hands found what you thought was a vase. With all the strength you still had, you slammed it on his head.

His stumbled backward, holding his head, letting you fall to the ground. You gasped for air but didn't waste more time and staggered up.

You tried to reach your phone on the way to the door, but you were pushed to the ground. You started crawling, tears flooding down your cheeks.

"Tara help!" you yelled, voice broken

Ghostface grabbed your hair and tugged your head backward harshly, one of his knees on your back to keep you on the floor.

"No one can save you. You will die alone, just like your father."

He slammed your head against the floor. You let out a cry which only grew bigger when he stabbed you on your side. He did it again. And again. And again. You were coughing blood at this point.

You didn't want to die. You couldn't die. You were screaming for help, crying and bleeding on the floor, Ghostface on top of you. You could still hear Tara's voice on the phone, a few meters away.

He pulled on your hair again, slamming your head on the floor once more. You started to feel dizzy. Everything was blurred around you, your ears were ringing.

So that's the end... you thought as he pulled your head back up.

"Tara..." you let out in a breath

He slammed your head back down again, harder than before.

I love you, was what you wanted to say. But everything turned black before you could open your mouth again.

When she arrived at your house, heart beating faster than ever, hands shaking, she saw him. Tall. Black costume. Bloody knife. He was running away.

Then her eyes fell on your body, lying in a pool of blood in your living room.

"Y/n!"

She ran to you, turning you around so you were on your back. Your face was covered in blood, fresh tears on your cheeks. She looked at you in horror. Her worst nightmare just became real.

Your necklace with her initial, stained with your blood, was hanging lazily around your neck, red from earlier.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks when she tried to take your pulse. She gasped when she felt it. She held your head with one hand, the other taking one of your own.

"Baby please stay with me... I called an ambulance it will be here any minute now..."

She had almost lost her voice from screaming when you were being attacked. Hearing you cry for help and not being able to to anything had killed her.

When the ambulance arrived, you were still unconscious in her arms. They forced her to back up while they were taking care of you. She didn't want to. She needed to be close to you. But they didn't let her.

From where she was, she could hear their conversation. It only made her heart ache.

"We're losing her! Get ready to shock her! 1, 2, 3, go!"

"She's losing too much blood!"

After what felt like an eternity, they put you on a stretcher into an ambulance. Tara made her way to you but was stopped quickly.

"You can't go further miss."

"Is she alive?" she asked, panicked

"She was clinically dead for 3 minutes. But we brought her back. Now if you want her to live have to take her to the hospital. And no, you can't come with us, we need to be by her side. You will see her at the hospital"

They left her here, crying on the sidewalk in front of your house. After a minute, she headed to the hospital, walking as fast as her legs allowed.

Once she was there, she was told she couldn't see you yet. She tried to argue, but that was useless. She "would only have to wait a little" as the lady said.

She took the opportunity to call your mother, your friends, and her sister to tell them everything.

The first to arrive was your mom, as expected. She seemed devastated. She got mad when she learnt she couldn't see you right now and started yelling at the lady before Tara dragged her away.

They had to wait half an hour before someone told them they could see you. You were still asleep, but your life wasn't in danger anymore.

Tara sat next to you and took your hand, stroking it gently, while Gale sat on the other side, watching you with tears in her eyes.

"... Can you watch her for a minute...? I have to tell Sidney..." she asked your girlfriend

"I'll call you if she wakes up"

She thanked her and got out of the room, taking her phone with shaking hands.

You would soon wake up, not believing you were still alive, and burst into tears in your girlfriend's arms only able to think about one thing; you had a killer on the hunt again.

[Next part]

[marice23top]

CHAPTER 1- Prowler Miles X Deadpool(fem) Reader

   Taglist: @bath1lda​  @niktwazny303​ @sorryi-mtrash​

“ So we meet again!” Said a dark and mysterious voice “oh my, please stay away! “ yelled the poor girl. “NEVER YOUR MINEE!!” he yelled Slashing her in the stomach before laughing crazily.

“BAHAHAHAHA!!!!” “Y/N!” ‘oops, remember to keep quiet or you're in trouble but know  that old man needs me’ thought the girl who is seen to be  laying in her bed before she gets up to respond to the call.

“Coming father” she says up the stairs in a meek tone different from the tone she used to read her book or to even talk to herself. “Hurry, I have a mission for you”He responds to her in an authoritative tone. She makes it up the stairs and into a living area different from the one her room is in. This is where her mother and older brother live while she sleeps in the laboratory.

Coming into the living area to see her Father sitting on the couch, that was across from  the family picture. ‘Well their family picture, as she has been in any of these pictures’. “Yes father, I heard you say you have a mission for me” She tells him looking to the ground as if looking at her father would kill her if she dared.

“Yes I have a mission for you, and that little assassin I hired is coming with you” He tells her, still looking at her as if he dared her to defy his orders. “Yes sir, I understand, I'll get ready and leave as soon as possible.”

“Don't worry about getting ready its a stealth mission and you need to look normally, your weapons are in a bag by the bike in the garage, Get them, meet at the street linked on the bike, and wait till the event starts and the assassin gets there,” “ yes father” “Good now get out” “yes father.” The young girl says bowing then walking back down to the garage to her bike and seeing the bag.

‘Awe great this is going to be a boring mission’ she thought, getting on the bike ready to drive away. But then she remembers something that makes her smile like the moon has eyes `My coffee bean is going to be there and I don't have to come back here after the mission, so I can spend the rest of the night with him, YEEEAAAHHH!!” she screams riding on her bike down the street.

‘Tonight is going to be a great night’ she thought.

                                         TIME SKIP TO THE EVENT

“Copy that uncle Aaron” the boy says to his communicator, “yea, ad boss man says  your girl is going to be there too, make sure you watch after her man” his uncle tells him. His uncle knows one thing that when they're both together that girl would never get hurt, even if she can heal.

“Yea I see her i'll tell you how we do '' He tells his uncle completely ignoring what his uncle said about calling her his girl. "All right and remember to knock out or kill anyone in the way of killing that little traitor, understood” “yeah understood” as the boy says these words and cuts off the communicator with his uncle he goes to the edge of the roof he’s on and jumps sliding down the walls using his claws, and drops  into an alley.

“MILLLEESSS!!” He hears behind him, he sighs before opening his arms as if he was waiting for something. And soon that something jumps and appears in his arms hugging him with a death grip and legs wrapped around him. “I’ve missed you” she says to him looking down to his peacock eyes, while rubbing his braids.

“Yea me too princesa hermosa, also we saw each other yesterday, we had a mission” he tells before putting her down on the ground and looking at her outfit. “Te ves tan hermosa” “what's that mean” he chuckles at her  and remembers she sometimes forgets that she is fluent in 7 languages. “You know” he says but then he sees their target and his whole mood changes. A few seconds ago they were laughing then he gets all dark and mysterious when people are around or if they're handling a mission and right now it's the latter.

 “You ready” he tells her, getting his claw ready while she takes her guns out the bag she brought, “as ready as ever sweet lips” “stop” “OK, right mission time first.”

“Ohh this is going to be fun” she says smirking, looking down at all the men who seemed to be in their way, then seeing the target. Her eyes look at them darkly with her smirk becoming dangerous.

She kisses her guns, “Real Fun.”

Princesa Hermosa—-> Beautiful Princess

Te Ves Tan Hermosa—--> You Look So Beautiful

[081314]

Book 7: The Ruler of the Abyss – Chapter 5 (Part 1)

Following is part 1 of my translation of Chapter 5 of Book 7: The Ruler of the Abyss. This part contains episodes 7-69 to 7-72

Main storyline spoilers after the cut!!

Episode 7-69

Baul: General, I have news! Briar Castle has been… Briar Castle has been completely surrounded by the Silver Owl, and Henrick and the Knight of Dawn are leading the charge!

Silver / Sebek: Wha-…!

Lilia: ….! We need return to the castle immediately… Ugh!

Silver: But you can hardly stand right now!

Grim: Just lookin’ at him’s makin’ me feel like I’m gonna keel over!

Lilia: Oh, would you shut up already! Like I’d care about some stupid injury.  Besides, they’ve got us completely surrounded out there. What we need is people who can use teleportation magic… Summon the transporter brigade. We’ll teleport back to the castle together…!

Baul: General, that certainly would be our fastest route back… However, we’re quite far from the castle. Teleportation involves dematerializing one’s body… as well as one’s mind, and reassembling them both at the destination. It’s incredibly taxing for those who are sick or injured. And in your condition, your body wouldn’t be able to withstand teleporting over such a vast distance! We’ll have the transporter brigade teleport only those men fit to battle, and the rest of us can return on foot.

Lilia: You idiot! You want us to just stroll back there, huh? Didn’t you just say the Knight of Dawn was spotted at the castle!?

Baul: And that’s precisely my point! It pains me to admit this, but the Knight of Dawn is extremely powerful. And if you were to go up against him right now, when you can hardly pick up your blade, you wouldn’t stand a chance against him. And I know you know that, too.

Lilia: Damnit…

Baul: We need to have faith in Lady Meleanor, and in the Imperial Guardsmen you’ve trained. I’m sure they’ll be able to hold things down until we join up with them.

Lilia: …. Fine. Dammit!

Baul: Troops, retreat! I want medics attending to the injured, now! Transporter brigade, teleport all those fit to battle to Briar Castle immediately! HURRY! The General and I will return on foot!

Imperial Guards A/B/C: Gyagyaaa!

Baul: We leave Briar Castle… and Lady Meleanor in your hands!

Imperial Guards A/B/C: Garuru!

Baul: The Night’s Blessing upon Ye.

(The Imperial Guards cast their teleportation magic and depart)

Baul: Damnit…. They must’ve been keeping an eye on us this whole time, waiting to strike until the General was away from the castle. THOSE DAMN COWARDLY HUMANS!!

Sebek / Silver: …………..

Grim: Man… What should we do, Yuu?

Yuu: (I’m not sure what I should say….)

Silver: ….!!!

(Silver slaps himself in the face)

Silver: …Okay!

Grim: The heck! What’s with you, Silver? Why’d ya smack your face like that all of a sudden…

Silver: If we just sit around here hiding from the enemy, things aren’t going to improve one bit. We need to brainstorm something we can do to help.

Episode 7-70

Silver: We need to brainstorm something we can do to help.

Sebek: …Indeed. Oft when training in the mountains, you’ll encounter a fallen tree or whatnot blocking your path. When faced with such an obstacle, stopping to think about what you should do next can very well spell even more trouble for you down the line – the sun will set before you know it, and then what will you do? Regardless if you choose to turn around and head back, or if you attempt to find another way around, the quicker you make your decision, the better your chances at surviving.

Silver: “As long as you’re still breathing, things will work out in the end”…. We heard those words almost every day growing up.

Sebek: Indeed. ‘Tis one of our master’s teachings. We must deliver Sir Lilia to the castle as safely and as swiftly as possible. And if we are to break through the Silver Owl’s perimeter, we’ve no other choice but to utilize flying magic.  First, we must procure some brooms. I do hope we can also locate some provisions and medical supplies as well, but…

Silver: Let’s search inside the fortress. Grim, Yuu, can you guys help us?

Yuu: Of course!

Sebek: Sir Baul! We shall go look for supplies.

Baul: No, you boys need give up already.

Sebek / Silver: What!?

Baul: …Our mission was a complete disaster. The situation has completely changed from how things were when the General allowed you to come with us. Leave. Now. Don’t squander the fact that the General saved your life.

Sebek: But you’ve only a few men left amongst your troops!

Baul: Hmph. That’s nothing for you lot to be concerned about. In the first place…. You humans have no reason to be fighting the Silver Owl.

Silver: …No, we do.

Baul: What did you just say?

Silver: If General Vanrouge hadn’t protected me back there, I could’ve died. I owe him my life. …And I want to make sure he makes it through all this. I don’t need any other reason than that. It doesn’t have anything to do with… with being a fae or a human.

Sebek: Sir Baul, I feel the same way as Silver.

Baul: Breaking through that army of Iron Ones waiting for us outside and racing all the way back to the castle won’t be easy, you know. We can’t afford to waste any time keeping an eye on you kids.

Sebek: You’ve no need for concern. We shall work tirelessly, and we shall strive to adhere to our master’s teachings!

Baul: But you’re humans… Why would you… …Heh. You sound like a couple of daredevils. Fine, do what you want. But you better not say I didn't warn you!

Sebek/Silver: Thank you, sir!

Sebek: We must make haste and gather all our required provisions! No dawdling!

Grim: Alright! Just you guys wait, you’re gonna get front row seats to my fancy flyin’ skills! I been polishin’ ‘em in Vargas’s supplementary lessons.

Silver: Wait, Sebek. There might be some more Iron Ones lurking around. Stay sharp.

Sebek: Hmph! I’m well aware of that. Grim and Yuu, you are to follow after me! And stay close!

Grim: Oh, yeah? You sure you wanna walk ahead of us? What if I mess up when I’m spittin’ fire and I light up your ass by mistake?

Sebek: Argh! And here I was offering to be so kind as to protect you little weaklings…!

(Crash!)

Everyone: !!

Silver: That sound… it came from downstairs. Is it the Iron Ones coming to look for father and the others?

Sebek: Hmph. There’s no need to go bother the gaurdsmen. Let us rout these miscreants on our own. Besides, ‘tis standard practice for galleys and laundry rooms to be located in the lower floors of castles and fortresses. There’s a good chance we shall come across some brooms and what not whilst down there. LET US HURRY!

Episode 7-71

Silver: There’s someone in that room…

Sebek: Yuu, Grim, get back. Let’s go, Silver…

Kitchen staff member A: Eep! P-Please, please spare us!!

Kitchen staff member B: W-We’re just a couple of kitchen staff members, and… huh? Oh, it’s you, Sire! Please, don’t scare us like that!

Silver: Huh?

Kitchen Staff member A: Did you guys already send those fae packing? Aah, of course ya did!

Silver: Fae? What are you two talking about?

Kitchen staff member B: *Gasp* Sweetheart, look closely! This boy isn’t “him”!

Kitchen staff member A: Wait, you’re right! His hair color’s all wrong! That’s a hell of a coincidence, you guys look a whole lot alike. S-So does that mean you’re fae from the Land of Briar, then? W-We’re done for… *sobs*…

Kitchen staff member B: Oh, and I was so hoping to see our grandbaby’s face, their due date's right around the corner...

Silver: Please, wait. We’re not going to hurt you.

Kitchen staff member A/B: Huh?

Silver: We’ll get out of your hair as soon as we find what we need.

Grim: Hand over your brooms and make it snappy! Nyahaha.

Kitchen staff member B: Eep! T-That beast just talked!?

Yuu: Grim, quit scaring them!

Silver: It’s okay, Grim won’t bite. I know I’m repeating myself here, but we have no intention of harming you guys. We just want to get our injured men out of here safely, and that’s why we’re looking for some brooms.

Kitchen staff member A: Your injured men… You mean fae?

Silver: …Yes, that’s right. From your standpoint, I guess they’d be… they’d be your guys’ enemy. But please, will you help us?

Kitchen staff member A/B: …

Kitchen staff member B: A-Alright. I’ll tell you boys where we keep all the brooms.

Kitchen staff member A: The heck are you doing!?

Kitchen staff member B: Oh, just look at them, honey. These boys are a lot younger than our own son. And their ears are….

Kitchen staff member A: Ah, their ears are round! So they’re humans. Then how come they’re helpin’ out the fae?

Kitchen staff member B: It’s probably best we don’t find out. The fae could be forcing them to do all this, for all we know…

Kitchen staff member A: Yeah, but…

(someone’s stomach rumbles loudly)

Silver: Sebek….

Sebek: ….’Twas not I.

Silver: It’s okay, I understand. That good smell wafting around the galley is making you hungry, right?

Sebek: No!!! ‘Twas… ‘Twas Yuu’s stomach, was it not!?

Silver: No, it was definitely you. I’d recognize that thunderous grumble anywhere….

Sebek: Silence, Silver!!!!

Kitchen staff member A: …You boys hungry?

Sebek: No-

(Someone’s stomach rumbles)

Grim: Aww, geez. Sebek’s stomach talked my stomach into grumblin’ along with it. All we been eatin’ lately is dried meat and fruit.

Kitchen staff member A: Hah. You shoulda said so in the first place! Honey, go wrap up some bread and bacon they can take along with them.

Kitchen staff member B: Will do.

Sebek: W-Why has your demeanor changed all of a sudden!? I’ve no intention of accepting your charity…!

Kitchen staff member A: We’re kitchen staff, boy. Feedin’ hungry people’s our job. Besides, you kids showed up at just the right time. Buncha our food was ‘bout to go to waste, with Henrick leavin’ all of a sudden like that.

Grim: Yahoo! Hey, can I have some of this soup, too?

Kitchen staff member A: Sure thing, eat up.

Sebek: Grim! Do you not understand the meaning of an “emergency situation”!?

Grim: I don’t wanna hear that comin’ from you. Your stomach started this.

Kitchen staff member B: Here you go, here’s some bread and bacon… And I also got you some bottles of water. I can’t say if any of this will be all that appetizing to the fae, but… Please take it with you.

Silver: Thank you. We’re really grateful you’re doing all this for us.

Kitchen staff member B: ……..You really do look just like him.

Silver: …Huh?

Sebek: Oi, Silver! Cease with the chitchat already. We must find out where that storeroom is located!

Silver: R-Right.

Kitchen staff member B: You’ll find the storeroom upstairs, in the northern wing of the fortress.

Silver: Understood. Please take cover in here until we leave. I apologize for startling you earlier. ...Stay well.

Episode 7-72

Grim: Maaan, I didn’t get a chance to eat dessert. Why ya gotta be in such a rush, Sebek.

Sebek: You little- You complain even though you wolfed down two whole bowls of soup…!

Silver: That storeroom the kitchen staff told us about should be around here somewhere… Hm?

Sebek: What is it? Why are you just standing there?

Silver: I know that bird call…

(An owl hoots)

Grim: The heck is this place? There’s tons of birds in here.

Sebek: Ah, that’s right. The peoples of this period relied on owls and pigeons to deliver messages to one another.

Silver: They look really hungry. Let’s give them some of our bread.

Sebek: Tsch… ‘Tis not the time to be feeding a bunch of animals right now. We must look for brooms at once- Ah! Wait a moment… Couldn’t we utilize these birds?

Grim: Huh? No? These guys are skin an’ bones, wouldn’t be any point eatin’ ‘em.

Sebek: THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT! Oi, Silver. Perchance the time has finally come for you to put your inutile affinity with animals to good use.

Silver: …What?

Sebek: Sir Baul! We have returned with brooms and some gurneys.

Grim: And we got some grub, too!

Baul: Ah, good work.

Silver: How’s General Vanrouge doing?

Baul: He’s still in no shape to fight… But I’m sure the Silver Owl is gearing up to come finish us off as we speak. Our time’s up, we need to get out of here. I’ll lead the charge and clear a path for everyone. You boys bring up the rear!

Sebek: Sir Baul, could you please allow us to lead the charge?

Baul: W-What!? No way in hell! You take one step out of those doors, and you’ll be met with a face full of arrows.

Sebek: You needn’t be concerned. It’ll be a gamble, but… We do have a bit of a plan in mind.

Baul: A plan..!?

Silver: We’ll clear a path for you guys, we promise. Sir Baul, please watch General Vanrouge for us.

Imperial Guard B: Goei! Garuru!                          

Baul: What? Outside the fortress? So the Iron Ones are finally on the move.

Sebek: It's time. Come, Silver! Let us go!

Silver: Right. Grim, Yuu… I promise we’ll make it through this.

Grim: You leave Yuu and Lilia to me!

Yuu: Please, be careful!

(Silver and Sebek depart)

Baul: Wait, humans!! Damnit… Looks like we have no choice... Men, follow them! They need backup!

Imperial Guards A/B/C: Gyagyaaaa!

Lilia: …..Ugh… What’s with all the racket…?

Baul: !! Are you awake, General!?

Lilia: What happened with… those brats….

Baul: They ran off ahead, saying they’d break through the enemy’s perimeter for us. I tried stopping them, but they said something about having a plan of some sort….

Lilia: What!? Those little idiots!! Let’s go, Baul!

Sebek: …Look. The Iron Ones have the fortress completely surrounded. And they aren’t even trying to conceal themselves, either.

Silver: Looks like they’ve got about 100 people on their side. And we’ve got… not even 10.

Sebek: True, but considering our numbers are so miniscule, as long as we can rely on “their” assistance, no doubt we shall be able to escape.

Silver: Right. They said they’d go get their friends for us as thanks for the bread. We need to trust them. Let’s go….

(Silver whistles)

Iron One A: Huh? Is someone whistling?

Iron One B: Are those fae up to something? Hah. If they’d have just kept themselves holed up in the fortress, we wouldn’t have to wallop ‘em or anything. …But alright. If it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’re gonna get! Troops, charge!!

(sound of wings flapping)

Iron One A: Huh? What’s that sound… Uwaah!?

Iron One B: What the!?? Is that a pigeon?

Iron One A: Aaah! Ouch ouch ouch! What’s with this thing?!

Iron One C: And there’s a bunch of sparrows and owls, too! Oi!! Stop pulling on my cape!! Lemme go!!

Iron One B: What the!? There’s a whole stampede of animals pourin’ out the forest….!

Iron One A: Gyaa! T-There’s something crawling around inside my armor!!

Iron One B: Eep! A squirrel!? Yowch!!! It’s biting my ears!

Iron One C: S-Stop!! It’s tickling me! Ah ha ha hah ah!

Silver: Thank you, everyone! We’re in your debt!

Sebek: The Iron Ones are faltering! Now’s our chance!

Grim: Come on, henchman! Hold on to me nice and tight!

Yuu: I’m counting on you, Grim!

Sebek: We must break through their forces! Follow Silver!!

Imperial Guards A/B/C: Gigiiii!

Iron One A: Oh, you think you’re gonna escape, huh? Archers, at the ready!

Silver: Sebek, behind you!

Sebek: What!?

Yuu: Look out!

(bats screech and fly across the screen)

Iron One A: Guwaaaa! What now!? Bats!?

Silver: That’s….!

Sebek: S-Sir Lilia!

(Lilia flies over to Silver and Sebek and bops them on the head)

Silver/Sebek : Ouch!

Lilia:  You little morons! The hell did you two think you were doing, running off like that? Ugh, this is why I can’t stand kids!

(Animal sounds)

Lilia: Ow! Stop pecking me! I’m on your side! …But I gotta say, calling on a bunch of birds and squirrels for reinforcements is pretty sloppy. We’re followers of the night, you know. I’ll give you props, though. Ah ha ha ha!

Iron One B: Look! It’s Vanrouge! Capture him!

Iron One C: After theeeem!!

Lilia: I still can’t fly on my own for too long. Sebek, let me ride behind you on your broom.

Sebek: Yes, sir!

Lilia: You boys need to fly as fast as you can! I’ll stave off their attacks! Silver, give me backup!

Silver: Yes, sir!

Lilia: Baul, you take up the rear!

Baul: Leave it to me, General!

Lilia: Grim! And Yuu! You better not fall behind!

Grim: Heh heh. Ain’t nobody better at runnin’ away than ol’ Grimmy here!

Lilia: Come on! Let’s blast right through ‘em!

Baul: We made it past their perimeter! Keep going, and don’t slow down even a second!

Imperial Guards A/B/C: Gishaaaa!

Iron One A: We can’t let them escape! Use rocks, arrows, whatever it takes! Just stop them!

Iron One B: I-It’s no use! The squirrels gnawed through the ropes on our catapults!

Iron One C: Ow ow ow ow! Now the birds are throwing stones at us! Aww, come on!

Lilia: Farewell, Iron Dumbasses! Ah ha ha ha!

Iron One A: Waaaait!!

Battle Map Conversation

Lilia: Did you guys see the look on their faces! Their precious iron armor’s all covered in bird shit now… You boys did an excellent, job!

(Lilia pulls Sebek and Silver together and pats their heads)

Sebek: For the General of the Right himself to caress my humble head… I am honored! Truly honored!

Silver: ……I’m glad everyone made it out alright.

Baul: We’re not out of the woods yet. No doubt they’ll be following after us on horseback.

Lilia: Yeah. They aren’t going to let us get through the Canyon of Howling Winds without a fight. We don’t have time to spare. Let’s go! …Please be okay, Meleanor!

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Never Say Never

Chapter 19

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 7.4K

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

The peak of summer had hit. Humid days meant lots of time at the local pool and lake. You and Steve were enjoying every moment of the boys' break from school with them. Picnics in the woods, cookouts with friends, mini-golf, and trips to the zoo filled up your weekends. Evening bike rides had become part of your routine, often ending with ice cream cones or slushies from Scoops Ahoy. Nights spent chasing fireflies and roasting marshmallows over a fire. You and Steve had taken to enjoying evenings on the deck after the boys were in bed, glasses of wine in your hands.

Mid-July found everyone once again sitting around a large table at Sage and Salt, minus your parents, as you were all there for an entirely different reason this time.

“To Mike!” everyone cheered loudly, glasses clinking in celebration all around the table. 

Mike’s cheeks blazed bright red, his lips disappearing in embarrassment at everyone making a fuss over him. He’d told you last week that he finally got an offer for his book. The book he’d been working on for years was finally going to be published, he was getting a decent advance for a new author, had signed the contract just that afternoon, and everyone had insisted on going out to celebrate. 

“Thank you but this all feels a little…premature, doesn’t it?” he asked. “I mean, yeah, I got an offer and signed a contract but we have no idea how the book is going to do. Getting published doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people get published and their book just sits on a shelf collecting dust. It could still horribly flop.”

“It will not,” insisted El, looping her arm through his, a proud smile on her face. “You are going to do incredible. Michael Wheeler is going to be a household name.”

“Yeah, man. You could be the next Stephen King,” Lucas said. 

Dustin snorted, “Nobody’s the next Stephen King. Stephen King is the only Stephen King there is or ever will be. Besides, his books are in a totally different genre. You can’t even compare the two.”

Max rolled her eyes, “Jesus Christ, Dustin. Can you just say yeah and be happy for your friend?”

“I am happy for my friend but it would be more appropriate to compare him to Eddings or Brookes as his book would be of the fantasy genre and they are fantasy authors. Of course, those are big shoes to fill. If his books do even half as well as theirs I will be impressed.”

“Okay, we get it,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. “Anyway, this is a huge deal and I am sure your book is going to be great. Congratulations Mike.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, we’re so proud of you,” Karen beamed, teary, reaching over the table to pinch his cheek as he grimaced and pulled back from his mom.

“It’s about time,” Tedd grumbled, taking a long drink of his beer. “Only been working on the damn thing for five years, letting his wife pick up the slack.” Karen elbowed him and he looked over at her, completely unaware of how rude he was being.

“Well,” Joyce added, “I think it’s great. I can’t wait to read it. I will be first in line to buy it the day it comes out.”

Mike smiled at her, “Thanks.” He glanced around the table at all of his friends. “And thanks to all of you. If you wouldn’t have pushed me so hard, I’d probably still be editing it over and over again, too scared to ever actually put it out into the world.”

Nancy ruffled his hair, “No problem, kid. We all knew you had it in you even if you didn’t.”

“It’s an amazing story,” Will told them. “Mike really did his research. It’s well planned out, the plot is gripping, the characters are amazing, and the world building is on point.”

Dustin’s mouth dropped open, his fork hitting the plate with a clang, his eyebrows furrowing, “Wait. You’ve read it?”

Will shrugged, “I mean, yeah. Mike wanted me to look it over to see what I thought. I actually helped him with some of the editing.”

“How come he got to read it?” demanded Dustin, offended. “You said we couldn’t read it until it was published and perfect?”

“It’s Will,” Mike stated as if that should be enough explanation. “I trust Will to be honest with me.”

“We’re honest,” Lucas scoffed. 

Max’s eyes rolled into her head, “Boys, boys…calm down. You all will have a chance to read it in a few months when it comes out. No need to bicker over who got to read it first. You’re all very important to Mike.”

“Speaking of people who are about to be famous, you will never guess who I saw at the record store today,” Robin said, turning to Steve as the boys continued to banter back and forth, her hand reaching across the table to grab a roll from the basket sitting in front of Steve.

“Who?” he asked.

“Eddie Munson.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, “For real?” 

Robin nodded with a grin like she’d just spilled the juiciest news ever but being that you had no idea who she was talking about, you just munched on your bread. It didn’t appear that June had any idea who it was either as her and you shared a look of confusion. Based on the look on Steve’s face, this was very big news indeed.

“But I thought he took off,” Steve continued. “After senior year…well, his third try at senior year, anyway. He said he was getting out of this hellhole and never looking back.”

“He did get out. Hasn’t lived here for years but he came back to help Wayne pack up the trailer. Apparently, his band just got a record deal with this big label in L.A. He said they’ve been playing in clubs for years and were just thinking of packing it in and giving it up when this big record executive came to one of their shows. Anyway, they gave him this huge advance and he bought a house out there and Wayne is going to move in with him.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Steve remarked, his hand on your shoulder, thumb stroking the bare skin along the strap of your tank top. You had learned over the last few months that he was a very physical guy. Some part of him was almost always touching you and you weren’t complaining about it. “Good for him. You know, the way this town treated him, I always hoped he’d do well and show them all.”

“Who’s Eddie Munson?” June questioned just as you were about to ask it yourself.

“He’s this guy we went to school with. He’s Steve’s age but he had some struggles in school so he wound up graduating with my class. Honestly, I think he might have had ADD but of course they didn’t really talk about that back then. They’ve only really started talking about it in the last couple years. If you couldn’t keep your ass in the chair and learn like everyone else then you were just out of luck. Most of the teachers wrote him off as a lost cause so he lived up to it. He was sent out of the classroom so many times for being obnoxious or causing a disruption. But he was crazy talented at the guitar and he always had a book he was reading. People called him dumb but I never thought he was. Annoying, absolutely, but not dumb. I think he just couldn’t get it the way they were teaching it and no one took the time to figure out how to teach him.”

Steve shrugged, “He had it hard here. The town treated him like trash because his dad was trash. His old man went to prison for selling hot car parts and his mom took off when he was just a toddler. He wound up living with his Uncle Wayne when he was in middle school. Wayne had a trailer in Forest Hills. So on top of being a felon’s kid, on top of having trouble at school, he also lived in a trailer. It was the trifecta of judgement for the people in this town. Everyone always said he was up to no good and he was going to turn out just like his father.”

“You know,” Robin mused, tearing off little bits of her roll and stuffing them in her mouth, “one time some of the cheerleaders were being mean to me. Not that it wasn’t something that happened all the time.” She snorted, rolling her eyes. “I was a band geek so the jocks and the popular kids loved to give us shit. Anyway, they took my trumpet and were playing keepaway. Eddie stepped right in and swiped it from them, depositing it in my hands with a flourish and a bow before strolling off down the hallway. I always kind of admired him. He never let those asshats get him down. He just was who he was and he didn’t care what anyone thought of him.”

“I don’t know,” countered Steve. “I think everyone cares what other people think of them. I just think some of us are better at pretending like we don’t. I think that obnoxious, boisterous exterior was a shield he put up to protect himself once he realized he was never going to be accepted by this place. It was easier to pretend it didn’t matter than to allow himself to be vulnerable to the mockery. Dustin sure loved the guy though.”

“Loved who?” asked Dustin, catching the sound of his name.

“Eddie Munson,” Steve answered.

“Hell yeah I did. All of us did.” He gestured down the table to the other boys. “He was a Dungeons and Dragons Master. He was the head of our D&D club, Hellfire, and we all joined our freshman year of high school. Me, Lucas, Mike, and Will were never what you’d call…popular. Lucas was a bit once he started playing basketball and helped them win the championship game. But Eddie, man, he just accepted us from the first day. He gave us a place to belong. We were happy to be one of his sheep.”

Steve snorted, “It was like a damn cult. He referred to them as his sheep like he was a shepherd leading the flock. All four boys loved him but Dustin freaking worshiped the ground he walked on.”

“He passed the reins onto Dustin when he finally graduated, appointing him Dungeon Master,” Robin said, pausing to thank the waitress as she brought their food. “But he was heartbroken when he found out Eddie was going to completely skip town.”

“He was my friend. Hell, he was more like a brother, and he was a hell of a Dungeon master. I tried to fill his shoes but nobody really could,” Dustin stated. “I’ve been out there to visit him a few times, actually. He’s in town right now. Did you know that?”

“That’s what I was just telling him, doofus,” Robin said. Dustin stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed.

“And were you close to Eddie?” you asked Steve.

“Me? No. Not so much. Eddie and I…we didn’t have a lot in common. He was a metalhead who loved to play nerd games. I was an athlete who would rather do just about anything than Dungeons and Dragons. But I never had an issue with him like some people. I always thought he was a pretty good guy. Henderson’s a good judge of character. If he says you’re solid, you probably are. My few interactions with him were alright.”

One of Robin’s eyebrows lifted, her elbow dropping to the table as she leaned forward, “Oh please! You hated that Dustin and him were so close.”

“Yeah he did! He didn’t like that I had another older male friend. He wanted to be the only one.”

Steve’s lips came together, making a noise of disbelief, “Okay, one, gross. And please. Like I cared who you spent your time with. I was just relieved you weren’t constantly following me around anymore.”

Robin turned to you, “Don’t let him fool you. He was so jealous that Dustin was spending more time with Eddie. He got used to being the only one that the kid hero worshipped.”

“Aww,” you teased, poking him in the side, giggling when he jumped. “You didn’t like having to share your little brother?”

His eyes narrowed, “Please. Like I cared who Dustin Henderson hung out with.”

“Oh, he did,” Dustin shot back. “He can act like he didn’t want me around but he’d be lying. Steve loves me.”

“Okay, anyway, onto another topic please,” Steve begged, popping a fry into his mouth as the other guys caught wind of the conversation and started asking Dustin about Eddie. 

“Alright, how about we talk about how my amazing girlfriend had some brilliant ideas about how to get more business into the coffee shop?” June offered, her hand covering Robin’s. “I was telling her how weekday evenings can be pretty dead and I wasn’t sure if I should start closing early and she had some amazing suggestions.”

“Oh yeah?” You leaned forward, arms folded on top of the table. You smiled at how red Robin’s cheeks flared at June’s compliment. “What amazing suggestions did you have?”

Robin shook her head, fingers tearing little pieces of her napkin nervously. “It wasn’t really anything spectacular…”

“Yes it was!” June huffed, rolling her eyes. “She’s just being modest. She mentioned starting a book club night. We could have specials to lure them in. I mean, what goes better with a conversation about a good book than a cup of coffee and yummy sweets?”

“Oh, I think that’s a fantastic idea!” you exclaimed, bringing your straw to your lips for a sip of Coke. “We don’t really have anywhere in town that does book clubs. I think you’d get a lot of people interested. You could even make a special dessert to go with the book they’re reading.”

June’s eyes lit up. “I love that idea! Like I could make something with orange marmalade for Bridget Jones's Diary. We think that might be the first pick. I could even come up with some fun drinks to go with it. Maybe instead of coffee, have a fun tea beverage.”

“Yes! I’m totally in for the book club.”

“Oh, did I hear you say you’re starting a book club at the cafe?” asked Nancy, making her way down the table to join them. “I’m in.”

“Really?” Robin asked. “I mean, you really think it’s a good idea?”

“I told you babe,” June sighed, “it’s an amazing idea. We’re thinking about Tuesday nights. We’ll feature one book a month. I’m partnering with Terry, who owns the bookstore. He said he’ll make sure to order extra of whatever we pick so people can buy it directly from him instead of having to drive into the city to find it.” She shrugged. “I mean, it’s a win-win for both of us, you know?”

“I also mentioned a live music night and maybe a poetry night where people could come in and perform,” Robin added, posture straightening as her confidence built seeing that everyone thought it was a good idea. “That’s why I was in the record store today. I was talking to Tom about the local bands he knew of. We want to get the word out but we need to know where to find the people to give the word.”

“Yeah. But we’re thinking of waiting on the live music for a couple months. I want to make sure we have the book club thing down before I try adding in anything else. If that all goes well, then maybe in a couple more months we can phase in poetry night.”

“The Hideout would probably be the best place to find bands,” Jonathan offered as he headed down to join them as well, his arm slipping around Nancy’s waist. “I mean, that’s where Corroded Coffin always played.”

Robin nodded, “I know but we want to host a variety of music. I think The Hideout is pretty heavy stuff. Not that we don’t want that too but it would be nice to do a variety to get more people in.”

Steve snorted, “Yeah. Not everyone wants to listen to a bunch of screaming. Makes my ears want to bleed.”

“You know, Matt works with a guy who’s in a band. They play more acoustic stuff. I could talk to him and see if his friend would want to play at your shop,” you told them. 

“That would be great. Like I said, it wouldn't be for a couple months. Probably not until the end of summer but I wouldn’t mind lining up some talent so we have a schedule and are ready to go when it’s time. Plus that would give us some time to figure out logistics.”

“If you’re looking for something Monday through Friday, you could always eventually add a local artisan night too. People who make things could have small displays in your shop and in front of it. From my experience, people love that kind of stuff,” Nancy said. “There’s just something so gratifying about finding that unique something special that you can’t find anywhere else because it’s not mass marketed. You know?”

“That’s not a bad idea, either,” June agreed. “And I love getting to support artists and small business owners. Especially given that I am one.”

“Oh, I wanted to ask, would it be okay if Eli stayed over tonight?” asked Nancy, turning to you. “Jere has been bugging me all day since we were all going to be here together. We rented Space Jam and he refuses to watch it without Eli.”

Steve glanced over at you, eyebrows wiggling suggestively at the thought of the two of you having a night alone. You weren’t used to having Eli gone as much as he was these days. He usually wound up hanging out with one of the gang or having a sleepover at least once a week but you’d learned to appreciate any time you could have alone with Steve.

“Yeah. Absolutely. I’m sure he’d love that.” A soft smile lifted the corners of your mouth as you glanced down the table, watching as the boys took turns shooting straw wrappers at Dustin and Lucas, a skill that Hopper was apparently teaching them. The man was like an over-sized child sometimes.

“Thanks. We’ll bring them both back around lunchtime tomorrow if that’s good for you,” Jonathan said, him and Nancy sharing a smile. “Give you some morning time too, you know, if you need a little extra.”

A couple hours later found you strolling next to June as Steve and Robin argued ahead of you. Everyone had headed home and the four of you decided to walk off some of your food first. You were only able to catch a word here or there of Steve and Robin’s conversation and had no idea what they were arguing about. But considering it sounded playful, you weren't worried. If there was such a thing as platonic soulmates, those two were it. They bickered like siblings but their love for each other knew no bounds. That was obvious to anyone who witnessed their interactions for even a few minutes. 

“So, it seems pretty serious with you and Robin,” you observed, hooking your arm through June’s as you walked along the main street. 

A smile like a crescent moon curved the raven-haired beauty’s lips, “It is, I think. I’ve been crushing on her for months. I didn’t think she’d ever get the nerve to say anything. I mean, honestly, I wasn’t even sure if she liked me for a while. The girl never made eye contact with me. I knew she was into girls but I just figured maybe I wasn’t her type and she didn't want me to get the wrong impression or something.”

“Oh, she liked you,” you laughed, pausing to look in the window of the general store. Eli had been begging you for the Batcave playset that had come out a couple weeks ago. With his birthday coming up next month, you were going to need to stop in and get it. If you waited too long, it might not be there and you’d never hear the end of it. “She liked you a lot. I just think she was scared to say anything.”

“Obviously. But she’s…I mean, she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. She’s so kind and thoughtful. I love the way she rambles when she’s nervous. It’s just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. And those little freckles…I just want to kiss each one.” She giggled. “I often do, actually. It’s only been a few weeks but somehow I just know. I know this is going to be something amazing. I know it’s going to last, you know?”

You curved your lower lip in, nodding as your eyes instantly moved to Steve, “I do know.”

“You sure seem to. You and Steve are the freaking cutest. Anyone watching you two can see it’s something special.”

It was special. It was everything. It was more than you could have ever imagined you’d get in life. After losing it all, you’d never expected to find something this magical again, someone this amazing. You knew exactly what June meant because you just knew. You knew that Steve was it for her. You knew six months from now, six years from now, sixty years from now, the universe willing, that he would still be by your side and you would still be just as deliriously happy. 

Robin shoved Steve, his hand coming to her face and shoving her back, both of them laughing. You watched the exchange with amusement. You already loved both of them so much. They had seamlessly been sewn into the fabric that was your life. What girl not only got to have the perfect guy but also the amazing people who came along with him? Sometimes it felt like too much, like you couldn’t possibly deserve this much. 

“Are you two talking about us back there?” Robin questioned, walking backwards ahead of them. 

“Only good things,” June promised.

“My girl's not complaining about how I don’t hang up my towel after a shower?” Steve asked, spinning around to face them. “Or how I leave little hairs in her sink when I shave? Or how she trips over my shoes because I don’t put them by the door where they belong?”

“I can accept all of those things if you can accept how I hog all the blankets at night,” you replied. “Or how I take showers so hot you feel like your skin is melting off. Or how I always take the last of the coffee and don’t make another pot.”

Steve stopped walking, waiting until you were right in front of him. His arms wrapped around you, hand locking at the small of your back, a gentle kiss pressed against your lips. Those lips, so damn soft. The man always had a ChapStick in his pocket. You knew because you’d run it through the washing machine more than once. 

“I can accept every single one of those as long as it means I get to have you,” he whispered, his lips pressing softly against your nose. 

“Did we just watch them exchange vows?” teased June. “Because those sure sounded like vows.”

“Seriously, when are you two just going to bite the bullet and move in together?” asked Robin. 

Steve’s eyes went wide, zeroing in on you, examining you and you knew why. He was waiting. Waiting for you to sink into the dark abyss of an attack the way you had the last time moving in together had been brought up. You hated the way his body tensed, readying himself to try to pull you out of it. You hated that he assumed you would fall apart at the mention of the future with him. 

Because you weren't. You weren't panicking. The two of you spent more nights together than not these days. You had toothbrushes at each other’s places. You had a drawer with a spare change of clothes for those last minute decisions to stay over. He had a thermos in your cupboard for his coffee for work when he woke up at your place. 

“Robin, we’ve only been dating for a few months,” Steve urged, darting a warning glance at his friend. “We’re taking things slow.”

Robin guffawed, her head thrown back with loud laughter, “Moving slowly? You sleep at each other’s houses every single night.”

“Not every night,” Steve argued.

“Practically,” she stated. “You already act like a married couple. Aly packs your lunches for work for crying out loud.”

You shrugged, “I mean, I’m already packing Eli’s and mine so I just…”

“I don’t care that you pack his lunch. But if you’re packing lunches, taking turns picking up the kids from school, and sleeping next to each other every single night, what’s the difference if you just go from two houses to one?”

“She’s not wrong,” June agreed. “You’re basically living together in two different spaces. Just sell one. It’s definitely more economically logical. You’d only have one house payment.”

“And if you sell one, you’d have a decent chunk of change. You could use it for…oh, I don’t know…a wedding?” Robin’s eyebrows wiggled tauntingly. 

“We haven’t…I mean…we’ve talked but not…” you stammered. 

Steve’s hands found yours in an attempt to ground you. Oddly, you didn’t need it. This talk about weddings and living together, talk that used to make your heart run a marathon, that used to suck the air right out of your lungs, wasn’t doing anything. You just didn’t know how to respond. After the hospital incident, you hadn’t really discussed it anymore.

It wasn’t like it wasn’t there, a thought that kept jabbing at your brain every now and then. But you’d been happily just going along the way you were. If he had Jere, you would stay at his place so Jere could have his things. If he didn’t, they stayed at your place. Miles had even gotten comfortable at both houses. The dog was at home at your place, leaving dark hairs everywhere that you could never seem to fully vacuum away. Somehow you always went to work covered in him but you didn’t mind.

But did Steve want to take that step? He’d told you that he hadn’t meant it when he said he liked his space. But the man had been living on his own for a while. He didn’t have to be attached to a child seven days a week. If you moved in together, he would have Eli around all the time. Maybe he wanted to be able to head back to his own place, his sanctuary of peace and solitude. 

“Okay Robin. Your suggestions and opinions are duly noted,” Steve said, putting an end to the discussion. “Thanks for the input.”

Robin shrugged, grinning, “Just wanted to get my two cents out there. Voice the idea into the world. Because we both know you two will never do it if left to your own devices.”

____________________________________________________________

Steve stroked your hair as you lay with your head on his chest, the two of you relaxed back on a blanket. A cool breeze tickled his skin, crickets creating a soundtrack for your evening as you enjoyed a moment of quiet together in his backyard. Stars twinkled like diamonds in the night sky, the half moon providing what little bit of light you had. 

He felt completely at ease with you right here where you belonged, cocooned in his arms, your hearts beating rhythmically against one another, sharing each other’s warmth to ward off the chill of the early summer evening. 

He’d been expecting you to go into a full blown anxiety attack earlier when Robin started talking about moving in together. He’d expected another call to 911 when you'd mentioned marriage. But he’d never been so glad to be wrong. You had taken it in stride. You'd stammered a bit, looked a little nervous, but you hadn’t lost control. It was a small step in the right direction.

Steve hadn’t broached the subject of living together since that night when he almost ruined everything. You were spending most nights and mornings together as it was. It wasn’t enough. He didn’t think it would ever be enough but you seemed to be okay with it and so it was what he would make himself okay with for now. He’d made a silent vow not to push you anymore and he’d stuck to it, waiting for you to let him know when you were ready for the next step. 

Had he wondered if you never would be? Of course he had. With your past, your struggles with anxiety, it concerned him that this could be what your relationship looked like forever. You frozen in place, terrified to move even an inch in a forward direction. Him never saying anything for fear of pushing you away. The two of you at a standstill, your relationship never evolving, never changing past two people who dated and stayed over at each other’s places. 

Steve had thought you'd fallen asleep until you said softly, “Maybe Robin has a point.”

“Hmm?” he questioned, pulling himself from his thoughts. 

You lifted your head, placing both hands over his heart before resting your chin on the backs of them. You took his breath away. Every time you looked at him it was like he had forgotten just how beautiful you were and he was stunned all over again. Every damn time. His fingers slid a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I said maybe Robin has a point,” you repeated, turning your face into his touch, your lips pressing a kiss to the center of his palm. 

Steve snorted, “Robin’s never right about anything.” At the look you gave him, he relented. “Okay. Fine. Yeah, she has some great ideas about June’s cafe. I think those things will really help bring in the business. We’ve yet to see but maybe she does have a point.”

“Steve, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. You couldn’t be saying what he thought you were saying, right? No. That was just him getting his hopes up far too high. It had only been a little over a month since that night in the hospital. There was no way you were going from barely able to breathe at the idea to suddenly saying you should move in together.

He swallowed, trying to rein in the desire that was raging in him for you to open your mouth and say those words. Because if you didn’t, the disappointment would come crashing down on him like an avalanche, his heart crushed under the weight of hundreds of tons of rock and rejection. 

“So, what are you talking about?” he asked, attempting to keep the hope he was feeling out of his voice. 

Your head tilted, your mouth curving into a gentle smile, “I mean, we are practically living together as it is. We’re just doing it in two different spaces. It does seem kind of silly, doesn’t it?”

Steve swallowed hard, nodding, barely trusting himself to reply with more than that. He wanted to grab onto you, pull you into him, kiss you breathless, and beg you to move in together. To choose a place. He didn’t care which. If you wanted to keep your place, that was fine with him. He just wanted you to be in his life, all of it, every day for forever.

“I understand if you’re not ready. I know you’ve probably gotten used to having your own space. I’m sure it’s nice to come home to a quiet house on the days when Jeremiah is with Nancy and Jonathan. So, I’m not pressuring you or anything. I’m just saying maybe it’s something to think about?”

He nodded. Emotion was clogging his throat. He knew he needed to say something. He needed to respond to you but he couldn’t seem to get sound past the lump in his esophagus. 

You blinked quickly, burying your head against his chest again as you muttered softly, “Anyway, just a thought. No big deal. I wasn’t saying we have to do it now.”

Jesus Christ, he chastised himself. Open your mouth. Say something. His arms wound around you tighter. Those beautiful eyes, eyes he hoped he was lucky enough to look into for the rest of his life, opened wide. He traced the back of his hand over the soft skin of your cheek. 

“Move in with me,” he urged. “Or I’ll move in with you. I don’t care. But let’s move in together.”

Those perfectly pink lips arced up on both sides, “Really?”

“Yes, really. Invade all of my space. I told you, I don’t want space. I don’t want quiet. I don’t want alone. I just want you. You and Eli and Jeremiah. I want you to fill up all the space until there’s none left.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?”

“Honey, I’ve never been more sure of anything than I am of you,” he said. “I know I want you forever. I know you’re it for me. I don’t need to wait and see. I don’t need time to figure anything out. I’ve known from the moment I saw your face that you were going to be something special in my life. And you are. I want you and everything that comes with you.” He cradled your face in his palms. “I want this face to be the first thing and the last thing I see every day.”

Tears sparkled in your eyes under the light of the moon. “Me too. Maybe it’s quick but I don’t care. I thought I needed to move slowly. I thought I would need time to know if this was right but I don’t. I feel it, so deeply in my bones. You’re right. This is right. I was worried about Eli but I don’t have to be because I am certain. I love you and so does he. It won’t matter if we decide today or six months from now. I will be completely certain it’s you.”

“So, your place or mine?” he asked. 

“I…” You paused, inhaling sharply. 

“It’s okay if you want to keep your house, honey. My house is just a house. Your house holds a lot of memories for you. I know that. I truly don’t care where I live as long as you and the boys are there.”

“No. I mean…I don’t think I want to keep the house. That house is full of memories but they’re memories from a different life. I want to start fresh. I want to build new memories with you. I don’t need the house to remember. Those memories will always be with me but I’m tired of living with a ghost and that’s what it feels like there. I mean, I should probably talk to Eli about it and see how he feels. But what would you think about buying a new house? Something we choose together? Something where we can create our own history and stories?”

“I think that sounds perfect.”

And it did. A whole new space where you could choose things together. You could slowly make it your own. A house that you would turn into a home by filling it with love and a shared history. A place where you could raise your boys together and then a space for just the two of you when the boys were grown and out creating their own futures. Four walls that would contain all the memories of your years, the happy and the sad, that you would look back on years down the road. 

“I love you,” you whispered, beaming from ear to ear. 

“I love you, too. God, I love you so much.”

You pushed yourself up, resting both knees on either side of his hips, straddling him under the stars in his backyard. Miles lifted his head from where he lay observing on the deck and Steve raised his hand, his command for stay. The dog released a heavy sigh but dropped his big head back down on his paws. 

“You are everything I never thought I could have.” Whispered words as your mouth, hot and sweet, covered his, your tongue teasing, flicking and brushing over his lips, teeth, and tongue. “You are a damn dream, Steve Harrington and I hope I never wake up.”

Your words, transmitted on your breath from your mouth to his, traveled throughout, spreading, inhabiting every single space. His hands ran over your body, grabbing and squeezing, as he made a vow to himself to keep you feeling like that. To ensure you never woke up, never looked around and doubted your choice right here on this blanket, never was disappointed to find the dream wasn’t your reality. 

You ground your hips over him and hissed at the feel of rock hard denim pressing over your clit. One hand slid up your shirt, taking your breast in his palm, while the other slid underneath your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass. You rocked harder against him, whimpering when he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth between kisses. 

Steve sunk into your mouth, taking the kiss even deeper, his tongue exploring, gliding and dancing over yours. His hand on your ass grabbed onto the lacy fabric covering your hip, his fingers wrapping around it, wanting to tear it off of you and bury himself to the hilt right now. 

“Should we…?” you tried but gasped when he pinched your nipple, rolling the pert little bud between his thumb and forefinger. “Should we go inside?”

“No, honey…can’t wait…wanna fuck you right here…under the stars…” he mumbled against your skin, sucking and nibbling a path up your neck to your chin. “Wanna have you under me…take you in the moonlight…” 

A squeak escaped you when his arms came around your waist, flipping you to your back beneath him. His fists came down on either side of your head, taking in the sight of your wide eyes, parted lips, flushed skin. 

“Fuck, you’re so damn beautiful,” he growled, his lips crashing down over yours again as your fingers dove into his hair, your legs locking around his waist as your heat sought out the friction of him again. 

“But neighbors,” you protested weakly when his fingers wrapped around the edge of your panties, yanking them down and away, tossing them carelessly somewhere in the yard. “What if someone sees?”

“No one’s gonna see,” he assured you, his lips traveling down your body, lifting your shirt to press open mouthed kisses over the soft skin of your stomach. “Maybe Miles, but he won’t tell anybody. He’s good at keeping secrets.”

You giggled at that, the sound filling his ears, delighting his senses. It was one of his favorite sounds in the world, maybe his most favorite. It was a sound he wanted to cause you to make every single day but it’s not the sound he wanted right now. 

Sliding down the blanket, he slipped his head under your skirt, taking your pussy in his mouth, and that’s when he got the sound he wanted. You choked out his name when he sucked on your clit like a throat lozenge. You writhed, whimpered, when he licked you from top to bottom, swirling his tongue over you teasingly. 

The taste of you made him feel drunk, his head fuzzy in that delicious way when the world just goes soft. He wrapped his arms around each of your thighs, holding you in place, as he feasted on you. Your back arched, fingers tangling in his hair, as he flicked his tongue over your clit. 

“Jesus, Steve,” you groaned, your hips rocking against his face, seeking sweet release. 

Fuck, he would never get enough of you. Your taste. Your scent. Your sounds. The way you felt. He could spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs happily and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

You were panting softly above him, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Your thighs trembled around his head and he knew you were close to coming undone. Steve wrapped his mouth around your clit and your entire body froze as you cried out his name loudly. He gently lapped at your sweet center, not stopping until he felt you relax beneath him. 

“Steve…” Your voice was raspy with lust, your fingers threading through his hair, leading him up your body. He stared down at you, the way your skin glistened under the faint light of the moon, your eyes heavy, your lips curled in a satisfied smile. “I think the neighbors might have heard me.”

He grinned, pressing his forehead to yours, “Let them. Then they all know you’re mine.”

“I am, you know? Yours. Just yours,” you whispered, bringing his mouth to yours again, kissing him deeply. 

Those words did something to him, scratching an itch in his brain he hadn’t even known was there before this woman came into his life. Steve worked at his belt, undoing his jeans and kicking them down his legs, needing to be inside of you. 

Nestling himself between your legs, he took his cock in his hand, sliding the tip over your clit and through your folds, teasing. You moaned, low and deep, your eyes fluttering as he slipped just the tip in before bringing it back out to run through your slick tauntingly. Your feet slid over his calves, your hands slipping under his shirt, nails running over the skin of his back. 

“Steve…stop teasing…” you pleaded. 

“Lift up your shirt for me, honey,” Steve told her. “I want to see all of you while I fuck you.”

You obeyed, tugging your shirt up and over your head, leaving you lying beneath him in nothing but your little black skirt and a scrap of lacy pink fabric that was so sheer he could see your nipples, dark pink and hard. He couldn’t take it anymore, his hand grabbing onto your hip as he thrust inside of you, burying himself in your heat. 

“Oh fuck, yes…Steve…” you groaned, your nails digging into his flesh. 

Jesus, you felt so damn good. He thrust again, sinking even deeper into you if that was possible, both of you moaning. Your legs locked around him, your bodies melding together until he could barely pull out. His hips rocked into you, small movements that kept him sheathed the whole time, his cock dragging over your walls. 

“I love you…Jesus Christ, honey…I love you…so fucking good…you feel so fucking good,” he grunted, rutting against you, chasing his own high as he felt you already starting to tremble beneath him again. 

“Love…you…” you panted, fingers gripping his shoulders, your mouth catching his for a moment before you broke off, head dropping back. “Don’t stop…please don’t stop…oh god…Steve…right there…I’m gonna…”

His head fell back, riding it out as your pussy clenched down around him, clinging to him as you rode out the wave. He was almost hyperventilating as he thrust into you hard, fingertips digging into the flesh of your hips, his eyes squeezing shut as his own orgasm crashed down over him with force, spilling into you. 

His cock throbbed within you as your pussy pulsed around him. He dropped down, his elbows on either side of your head, his hands cupping your cheeks. You looked like a fucking vision glowing and flushed in the subtle light of the moon above them. Your hand came to his cheek, smiling up at him, looking as satisfied as he does after he’s power washed every damn thing outside of his house. 

“You’re mine, huh? Just mine?” he teased with a smirk, thumb coasting over the curve of your cheekbone. 

You turned into his touch, pulling the tip of his thumb between your lips, “For as long as you want me to be.”

“Careful what you wish for, honey because that’s a long time. I’m thinking forever.”

“Works for me,” you beamed, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, pulling his lips down to yours. 

Chapter 20

Taglist: @katethetank@roxiehorrorshow@sapphire4082@bakugouswh0r3@frostandflamesfanfic @mix-matchsocks @mushy-mushroom04 @palmtreesx3 @littlebookworm86 @eddies-trailer-babe @cheesewritings @emilyj444 @daisyhollyxox @angelbabyivy @the-fairy-anon @loritate7311 @k-k0129 @antiquecultist

Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little story! 😊 And replies and reblogs are always appreciated if you enjoy it. I love to hear what you think! ❤️❤️❤️ Only one more chapter to go and then this story will come to an end.

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 21

Executive dysfunction is a bitch and can go to hell. I had something I could have posted yesterday while I was working on this, but no...

I am starting to wonder if maybe I shot myself in the foot with my tag rant as engagement for the last Reconnect AU was WAY down. But oh well. I can only continue to move on and hope I find new people who like my stuff.

All righty, my lovelies. We have gotten to the part where I was going to end it originally before you absolute menaces said you wanted me to continue it through season 4.

But here’s the deal, this story has reached nearly novel length of 40k. So what I’ve decided to do is call this the end of book one. And then I will start up book two, which will be through to the end of the school year and probably through the events of season 3. And then book 3 should take us the rest of the way.

I hope that’s acceptable to all of you. I want to continue it, but I think from here on out the title doesn’t fit Steve anymore and he needs a new one.

Now if you’ve followed me long enough, you know that I don’t start putting out a story until it’s done (if it’s short enough) or if I’m three to four chapters deep. So hopefully by the end of the month (if not sooner) you should start seeing book two.

I will run a poll on how you think I should do the tag list for it. But thank you all for coming with me on this absolutely wild ride. And hope you’ll stick around for the next two parts.

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 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

***

Word had been handed down, Mindy Jones, Ollie Anderson, and Kyle Carver had been suspended with word that Kyle being the instigator might be expelled. For sure he wasn’t going to be able to walk in his cap and gown at graduation.

Steve felt a sense of relief and strangely justice too. Yes, all right suspension wasn’t getting expelled, but the kids had been punished. They didn’t try to hand wave it away.

Steve had heard that Mr Vinke, the math teacher, Mr Cole, Miss Lucy, and Chief Hopper had all gone to the principal and superintendent for all three of them to be expelled.

The suspension was a given, but the school district wanted to do their own investigation and then expulsions might be handed out after it was complete.

Steve didn’t have much hope.

Marty, Gethin, and Janice all sat with the Corroded Coffin boys at lunch, something they didn’t normally do.

“Fuck,” Janice swore. “Why I am more nervous about tonight than I have all week?”

Steve nodded, poking at his food. “I haven’t been this queasy since I took a plate to the head.”

Everyone winced and murmured sympathetic platitudes and other noises of sympathy.

“I think it’s because it’s your last performance,” Gethin murmured. “Your last chance to completely biff it on stage.” Steve and Janice looked at him in wide-eyed fear. He waved his hands placatingly. “Not that I think you will. Just that your brain thinks you will.”

Steve and Janice looked at each other and then nodded.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “That tracks.”

Eddie slid his hand under the table and gripped Steve’s knee. Steve covered his hand with his own and gave it a squeeze of thank you.

*

Steve scanned the crowd the second night. He spotted Jeff and all his family, Gareth and Gethin and their parents, Brian and all of his younger siblings, and what looked like his dad. Wayne shuffled in his seat nervously, having never been to a musical before. But still no sign of his parents.

His mom promised that at least she would be there, even if his dad refused to come. And he held on to that. He managed to make it through the show and held it together.

He went out to be congratulated by his friends and their families. Wayne brought him flowers.

“You did good, boy,” he said gruffly, after giving him a hug. “I looked it up and flowers are the gift you give someone after a well-done performance.”

Steve looked down at the bouquet of wild flowers and smiled. “Thank you. I love them.”

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. “They might be a tad wilted by the time we’re done, because we’re taking you out to eat in celebration.”

Steve teared up a bit. “Thanks, guys.”

Gareth smiled. “You deserve it, man. That was awesome!”

Gethin nudged his shoulder. “We’re just waiting for Janice and Eddie to get done.”

Steve nodded. Eddie had to reset the stage for tomorrow and Janice had to get out of a corset and that took some time.

“Yeah, no problem!” he enthused.

Eddie finished first and came out to meet them.

“Hey, Steve!” he said. “Feeling famous yet?”

Steve laughed. “I’m going to get fat if this keeps up. First ice cream last night and then dinner tonight.”

They all laughed. “It’s impossible for you to gain weight, man,” Brian huffed. “I’ve seen you eat a whole pizza and didn’t even get bloated.”

Steve laughed. “Playing three sports does that to you. Hell, I still life guard at the rec center every summer.”

Brian eyed his lean form skeptically. “I suppose so.”

“Swimming’s fun,” Steve said. “And it’s not just for us jock types.”

Janice finally came out. “Sorry to keep you waiting guys. Sharing with Tammy Thompson is hell let me tell you. I don’t know how someone so tiny can take up so much room.”

“At least you don’t have to share the choir room with twenty sweaty dudes that wouldn’t know deodorant if it bit them in the ass,” Steve grumped.

Gethin shook his head. “Shouldn’t you be used to that from sports?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “At least there are showers after basketball. Can’t say the same here.”

Gethin’s lips curled. “Fair.”

Wayne clapped his hands. “All right, I’ve got us a place reserved, so we need to hustle. Eddie and Steve are coming with me.”

Eddie and Steve filed out with the rest of them and followed Wayne out to his truck.

Steve slid into the middle between Eddie and Wayne.

“Thanks for this, Wayne,” he murmured. “And the flowers, too.”

“You’re welcome, Stevie,” he said. “I didn’t see your parents. Did they show up last night?”

Steve shared a glance with Eddie and then shook his head. “There’s still tomorrow.”

Wayne and Eddie shared a glance of concern over Steve’s head.

“I’m sure that’s the case,” Wayne agreed.

An uneasy silence settled on them as they drove to the restaurant. Wayne parked and turned to Steve.

He pulled him in for a great big hug and then opened the door. “It’ll be all right.”

Steve nodded and slid out after Eddie.

The dinner was just as ruckus as the ice cream parlor the night before. With just as many people. Steve looked around and smiled.

Yeah, 1985 was his year and it was just getting started.

*

Steve looked out to the audience and knew, even in the dimmed lights his parents weren’t there.

“Tell me, Mr Thomson, out of curiosity, do you stand with Mr Dickinson, or do you stand with me?” Vince asked.

Steve could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. He held up the dispatch. “I stand with the General. Lately–I’ve had the oddest feeling that he’s been–writing to me…”

He slowly rose to his feet as he sang,

“I have been in expectation Of receiving a reply On the subject of my last fifteen dispatches. Is anybody there?”

His voice cracked with emotion as he stepped half out of the spotlight.

“Does anybody care? Does anybody care? Y’r humble & ob’d’t–”

The drum rolled and Steve looked up into the eagle’s nest where Eddie was doing the spotlight. A single tear ran down his cheek.

Steve looked down at the paper in his hand and then back up at Eddie. And then he exited the scene on cue.

Eddie swore he saw more tears in that moment then for ‘Mama Look Sharp’ that night.

But that performance of Steve’s brought out something in Vince in that moment. Vince’s John Adams bid Hancock good night, but then it changed. All the emotion and fear of not being seen or heard. The loneliness that Adams must have been feeling in that moment, borrowed from the loneliness of both Washington and Thomson.

“Is anybody there–”

Silence.

“Does anybody care–?”

Again, nothing.

“Does anybody see–what I see?”

And then Kenny came on and delivered the line with a sharpness that hadn’t been there before.

“Yes, Mr Adams, I do.” As if to banish all the fears and insecurities that John was having in that moment.

And Steve could almost hear it as though it was coming from Eddie. As if it was coming from his friends. The party. Wayne.

Yes, his parents weren’t there. They never were. And probably never were going to be. But that didn’t mean that no one was listening to Steve. That no one cared.

They all cared. Every last one of the dozens of people that showed up the last two nights. They cared. They brought their families. Brought flowers. Thought he was worthy of celebrating. Worth treating.

For the boy with the bat.

The boy that never knew what love really was until he looked up from a god damned garbage can into those warm and friendly brown eyes. A warm hand on his back and a gentle ‘Are you okay?’

In that moment, Steve’s life had become changed. Different. Better. All because a teacher took pity on Steve and chose Eddie Munson of all people to be Steve’s protector.

And he looked up at Eddie in the rafters and though he couldn’t see him, he knew that Eddie was looking back at him. Smiling back at him. Loving him for all his worth.

And if you had asked Steve what his worth was back in December he would have told you nothing. He wasn’t worth anything but being the baby-sitter. But now?

Now Steve was a baby-sitter, chauffeur, groupie, actor, chef, swimmer, friend, brother, and most importantly boyfriend. And maybe if he was really lucky, someone’s son.

***

Fin.

Fuck, rereading this to add back in the formatting made me cry. My apologies if it makes you cry too.

Tag List: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @garden-of-gay @anaibis @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites   @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead  @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @lovelyscot @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @jinxjinn @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @estrellami-1 @dangdirtydemons @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

[siconetribal]

Put It On My Tab: Chapter 9

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning: Threats, Harassment, Discussion of possible links to/interest in criminal activity, and Y/N being a trouble magnet

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, here is a link to the other parts:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

The store was spotless. The last customer had left about half an hour ago. There was nothing else to do, so Y/N took it upon herself to make sure it was pristine and ready for the next night traveler that would grace the establishment. Did she honestly expect anyone to come in? No, but this just meant she had one last thing to do before the shift was through.

“And now, I wait.” She mumbled as hopped up onto the stool behind the counter. It was going to be a boring and hellish shift with so little to do, but that just meant she was getting paid to do nothing. And that is far better than having to deal with some cranky customer. Grabbing her book from under the counter, she dove into the realm that awaited. A place where good, evil, and morally grey collided into a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors of adventure, intrigue, and romance. Within these pages, she was not some minimum wager struggling to make ends meet in some crime-ridden city. Within these bound sheets, she was free…until the chime of the front door pulled her back to reality. Of course, someone comes in just when I thought I’d be doing nothing.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here.” The familiar accented voice made Y/N’s jaw tighten as she slipped her bookmark back into the book and looked up to see none other than Citlalli’s troublesome cousin, Matías, and his posse of trouble. The one who always had some kind of job that would promise big reward, and would definitely get you killed if you were lucky. She could still recall the look on the Penguin's face when he realized he was being had. A look she never wanted to see once in her lifetime, let alone again. 

I’d rather deal with those secret menu drinks and hear the brainless chatter of the overprivileged youth than deal with him. A lobotomy sounds delightful, even. “Welcome, what can I get started for you today?” She plastered on her award-winning customer service smile as she stood from the stool and stepped up to the register.

“C’mon Lindura, don't be like that.” He softly clicked his tongue and reached across the counter to grab her hand. Y/N was quick to pull her arm back to her side.

“I will have to ask you to refrain from reaching across the counter, sir. If you need time for your order, you may do so, but I request you step aside. Anyone who is ready in the group, I am happy to help.”

“Damn, Matty, she’s not playing with you today.” The group snickered.

“Fuck off, that’s just how mi pequeña petardo is.” Matías eyed Y/N and smirked. It made her skin crawl, and she wanted to burn every inch that had the poor luck of being seen by such a leering gaze. “Isn’t that right, Nena? You like playing hard to get, don't worry, I’m not giving up that easy.”

No, please do. Give up, better yet, please walk into a wall however many times it takes for you to completely forget about my existence as a whole. She bit back the retort, reminding herself that she was at work and being recorded. She needed this job to pay off the 4k. “Sir, I'm not "playing ard to get", you're simply impossible to want. I am but a simple café employee working her shift, nothing more. So, what would you like?”

“For you to finally say yes and be mine.” She had to admit it was a smooth answer, but coming from him it was more greasy, like deep fried onion rings fresh out of the fier and still swimming in the oil. Her temple began to throb as the group cheered and encouraged Matías to go on. Emboldened, he leaned over the counter some more and attempted to grab her again. She smacked his hand away and glared.

“Strike two, Matías, keep this up, and I’ll call the cops.” She kept her voice flat as she glared at him. “Now, do you want to order anything or not? If not, get out and leave me alone. I’m not interested in you, your idiotic lackeys, or whatever pitch you're trying to sell.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are talking to us like that, bitch?” The one to Matías’ right snapped, grabbing and tugging her closer by the front of her apron. “Do you know who you’re messing with?” It was obvious from the clothes that he wore and the way he held himself, this guy was a hot headed rich kid trying to be cool.

“Someone with severe halitosis?” She rolled her eyes, trying to tug his hand off of her apron. “Let me go, or you'll regret it.”

“Regret it?” The rich kid scoffed. “How? Gonna call the cops? Then what? Even if we give ya the chance to call them, it’s gonna take time for them to get here. That gives us plenty of time for some fun. Plus my dad knows the commissioner, they can’t do shit” His slimy smug smirk was the last straw. Her free hand gripped the counter edge as she tried to create distance by pulling back as she tugged at his wrist in the opposite direction.

“I’m how.” Everyone turned at the newcomer’s voice, surprised to see that someone else was there at all, since the door had not chimed at someone else coming in.

No way, Wonder Boy?! Y/N’s jaw dropped at the turn of luck of having someone as witness to the harassment.

“And who the fuck are you supposed to be? Piss off and mind your own business.” The tallest of the group stepped forward.

“Guys, settle down.” Matías glared at Jason. There was something unnerving about him, and he knew fighting him as they are now would be a loss on their end. “Joey, let her go.”

“But Matty,” the rich kid turned to their leader to insist, but one look from Matías was all it took for him to back down. “You’re lucky, bitch.” He sneered, shoving her backwards hard enough to send her falling back into the counter behind her. The sharp pain up her spine was hard to ignore, but she refused to give them the satisfaction.

“You’ve misunderstood the situation, my friend! Lindura and I, we go way back. She’s my cousin’s best friend, after all.” He gave Jason a broad smile as he hooked an arm around Joey. “Joey here likes to play rough, we were all just joking around. We were actually in to see our good friend Ryan. He was supposed to be in tonight, which is why we stopped by in the first place. Seeing Lindura was just a big surprise.”

So he was expecting Ryan? Or is he just bluffing and just said the first generic white name he could think of? Y/N eyed Citlalli’s cousin with great suspicion. Her gut was telling her that it was most likely the former, and there was a lot that was not being said. Knowing what she did about him, what was unsaid was usually dangerous, and her expensive knight in shining armor did not need to get involved in all that. Is he trying to get other staff mixed up in his schemes? Don’t tell me he’s trying to pull a fast one on the Penguin again. Or is this him trying to gain turf and get noticed by some other criminal mastermind? Didn’t he idolize the Riddler or Scarecrow? Yeah, I need to be associated with that just as much I need a hundred bullets turning me into human Swiss cheese!

“Lindura?” She snapped out of her thoughts at the call of the annoying pet name she was given by Matías.

“For the hundredth time, quit calling me that.” She snapped. Shit, what did he say? “Also, don't get me or him involved in whatever this is. You’re on private property and our company wants nothing to do with any of it, understand? If you’re not ordering, leave. He wants to order, and you’re holding him up.” She motioned to Jason, purposely avoiding any confirmation of someone named Ryan being employed here. The less she said, the more distance she could keep from whatever was going on. I’ll just let Mr. B know later. I better let Cici know, too, I don’t want her or the rest of her family getting dragged into his nonsense. Matías glared at her response, looking between her and Jason in silence. He was clearly angry with her and her answer, but said nothing more. He turned towards the door, which was behind Jason, and shoved past him. His little group of lackeys followed suit, glaring and sneering at Jason, who barely even flinched at their attempts of intimidation. He turned and watched the group climb into their car and drive off before turning back to face Y/N.

“So, he’s really a friend of yours or,” he trailed off.

“More like a pain in my side. Like he said, he’s my best friend’s annoying cousin.” She sighed, rubbing the sore spot on her back. “Thanks, for stepping in like that. He’s…not the best person to be around and hangs around unsavory people, as you saw. I want as little to do with him as possible, but he just can’t seem to take a hint.”

“Is that what you call hinting? I’d hate to see what you being blunt is,” he chuckled as he walked up to the counter. Does she remember who I am? “So, this would be the second time I save you?”

Ah, so he does know it’s me! “Are you asking? Because I might need to start charging you, again.” He raised his hands up in mock surrender.

Yup, definitely does. “Purely rhetorical, but if you must, you can put it on my tab.” He chuckled. Y/N rolled her eyes at his confidence, she had to. Otherwise, she would have found it cute, and she needed to not find him anymore attractive than she already did. “So, are you closing up shop or can I order?”

“Sadly, I’m stuck here until the next shift comes in at 8. For some reason, we need to be a 24-hour location. So, what’ll it be, Wonder Boy? Order whatever you like, it’ll be on the house. The Least I can do for you since you saved me from that mess.” She straightened her apron and stood in front of the register once more.

“Something tells me your boss won’t like that, and you'll end up paying for it. How about I buy us both something, and you come join me at a table?” Jason offered, looking around at the vacant shop, to point out that she really had nothing to lose if she did. It was a very tempting offer, though she was equally happy with just sitting back here and reading her book, but when would be the next time she would meet him? To get a chance to actually talk to him and sort out this hotel mess?

“Well, if you insist,” she forced a heavy sigh of reluctance. “What’ll you have? The bakery items are either made in house or bought fresh from local shops, by the way. I’d suggest one of the sandwiches if you're looking for something more filling or aren't too big on sweets.” He hummed audibly as he stepped to the right, peering into the display case before glancing up at the menu that was hung up behind her before making his selection and insisting she or more than a drink. As promised, he paid for the entire order, and she quickly got to work making everything.

The second son of Bruce Wayne silently watched as she moved around behind the counter, sometimes disappearing behind the door to what he could only assume was the kitchen. After weeks of searching, he finally had her. He finally found the young woman he landed into a sizable amount of financial hardship, and she was not against spending time with him. Now I just need to figure out a way to bring up the topic. If those assholes didn’t make such a scene, I could've easily brought it up now and insisted on paying. But now she’s going to feel indebted to me for saving her again, and might fight me on it. There's got to be a way to make this work. He frowned, crossing his arms as he watched the back of her head move left and right as she began to make whatever drink she had put in for herself. He knew it could not be his order, he kept it simple with coffee, medium with creamer and sugar. The fact that I broke a coffee machine, and she works at a café, she must really think I’m some sort of imbecile. He ruffled his hair to release some pent-up frustration.

“Here’s your coffee and sandwich. Here’s my drink and pastry,” he heard her mumble to herself as she reviewed the ticket once more before stepping out from behind the counter. “We should be good. If you need anything, just let me know and I’ll grab it for you. Anywhere in particular you want to sit?” He glanced around the room before settling on a window side table that was a half booth on the window with chairs on the opposite.

That looks like it’s the closes to the counter, so she doesn’t have to go running if someone else comes in, and the lot is visible from there too. If those assholes decide to come back, I can handle it. “Over there is fine.” He pointed towards the table, placing everything on his tray and carrying it over. Y/N watched with raised eyebrows at the gentlemanly treatment. She was not one to judge by looks, but he certainly did not look like the type to be so courteous. “Are you coming?” She blinked away her look of surprise as she walked towards him.

“Color me impressed. Is saving damsels your forte?” She grabbed the chair to take a seat when Jason motioned for her to sit in the booth.

“I’ll let you know if you got anyone coming in.” He took the chair from her and sat down. “As for me saving damsels, I guess it depends. Do you make it a business to always be in distress?” He smirked, stirring his coffee a bit before taking a sip.

“I don’t make it my business, if you must know. Trouble likes to court me whenever it gets the chance.” She scowled, plopping onto the cushioned seating. “And it seems like you are around quite often when it’s doing its damnedest. Should I be wary of you?”

Oh, you have no idea. “Is that any way to treat your savior, twice over?” He exaggerated his frown as he leaned back into his seat.

“That depends, are you causing the trouble so you can do the saving, or am I just that lucky to have you around to save me?”

“You’re not ‘just lucky’ if it’s me doing the saving. You could say I’m a bit of a professional,” he thumbed his nose, earning a loud “ha” from Y/N.

“Fancy yourself as some sort of warrior of justice? A lesser known caped crusader?”

“No capes, definitely no capes.” He sternly answered. Y/N stared at him, surprised by the tone of his voice, but ended up laughing it off, just like the last statement. He was clearly playing along with her line of inquiry. Jason, on the other hand, was being honest and was a little annoyed by her lack of believing him. It did not help that he found her laughter melodious and the joy of it so infectious that it placated the momentary irritation of her waving his words off as something humorous.

“Ok, a capeless crusader, got it.” She picked up her drink and took a sip. “Well, thank you, in all seriousness. You really saved me on both counts. I’m pretty sure that drink you took on my behalf was drugged, which would explain why you were so out of it afterwards. And even now, even though he knows me, Matías wasn’t going to stop that Joey guy from causing a ruckus. The last thing I need is something that’ll cost me or Cici’s job.”

“Cici, that’s the girl who took my order last time, right?” He thought back to his first visit here. He recalled reading the name tag of the employee he requested to keep his association with Bruce Wayne hidden.“The one and only,” she nodded her head. “Which, speaking of, I wasn’t, she didn’t-” she let out a heavy sigh and raised a finger signaling that she needed a moment to gather her thoughts. Jason raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing as he let her take her time while he ate his sandwich. How exactly do I explain this without sounding like I’m blaming him or demanding money?

[juliasgoodusername]

Ley Lines Map for All the Gansey-core Girlies

Have you ever wished there was an interactive map that not only graphs the ley lines described in TRC, but also has layers full of possible spiritual points, arranged in loose categories and sloppily curated by sheer force of mental illness?? Okay baby here you go:

FAQ under the cut 😘

Was this necessary?

Genuinely it was not. My investigations uncovered that Maggie Stiefvater does not really care about geography, nor does she remain consistent about the ley lines, so I can't even really say that it's book-accurate.

Example 1 - There are multiple understandings of ley lines. Some are circles, patterns, connect the dots, etc. but TRC goes with the definition of "perfectly straight" lines "that crisscross the globe" (The Raven Boys Chapter 2, Chapter 15). One of the big three lines connects Boston to St. Louis (The Raven Boys Chapter 22). And the main line also passes through Boston (see example #2)! But half of all the Pynch drama in Call Down the Hawk specifically blames Boston/Harvard for not being on the ley line. Hello?? It's on TWO of them!

Example 2 - Maggie makes it clear that the connection between D.C. and New York, which also connects to the UK and Pilot Mountain, is the main line that Glendower's squad traveled on (The Raven Boys Chapter 7, Chapter 22). The weird part is how after defining this line, all of Adam's ley line adventures place it directly along the Shenandoah National Park/Blue Ridge Mountains (Blue Lily, Lily Blue Chapter 2 + many other quotes I don't feel like looking up). There's no way to connect the DC-Pilot Mt line to Shenandoah, but I can totally see how Maggie Stiefvater would think it connects when looking at a flat map.

So yeah. It doesn't really matter, but thanks to my research we can CONFIRM that it doesn't really matter. You're welcome.

So why did you make this?

For fun...it wasn't exactly worth it. But by sharing it with y'all, hopefully no one else will make the same mistake.

What about line #3?

The third line never has specific connection points in the books so I basically made it up :) but I narrowed it down to 2 candidates, with my chosen line based on Ronan's mention of the "Pando thing" in Greywaren's epilogue.

How did you decide on/find points?

Honestly it was a lot of vibes. You can read in the description of the map how I started from certain resources, like all the stuff in the books, and other people's Google maps. My big discovery was realizing that UNESCO World Heritage Sites covered a lot of territory between history and nature, but before that I was literally googling things like "strange places Kentucky" and pouring through articles. If a place seemed weird and magical, I added it.

Yes this took forever. Easily 3x as long as the 300 Fox Way floorplan, if not longer.

Is this map complete?

I had other ideas for things I should add to it but I got tired, so nah.

You've put down everything from urban legends to alien sightings, but why don't I see many hauntings on the map?

Blatant author bias; I firmly don't believe in famously haunted houses! The vast majority of "haunted" places operate as tourist attractions, so if I took them at their word I'd have to also log Disney World for being the most magical place on earth, wouldn't I? Also Re: I got tired.

Can I copy this map / add to it / use it for reference?

Please please please please

I found a typo

I bet you did! I'm not even proof reading this post bestie.

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

I don’t want to hear thoughts... Unless they’re yours

Chapter 5:  A connection       18+ (Please be aware that there is explicit content here) Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Word count:3.7k I woke up 2 days after posting this and my first thought was: I didn’t put any warnings! Yes, I’m that girl...So here they are:  Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, oral, fingering, voyeurism, use of butt plug, a little edging, Mommy!Kink, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Especially with all the interesting things she found in your thoughts. Chapter summary: Without any plans for the day, you let your mind wander and when good books are no longer enough, you give in to what your body craves... Little did you know, that your favourite new neighbour was listening in, craving the exact same thing you did.   Part 1; Part 2; Part 3, Part 4; Part 5; Part 6, Part 7; Part 8; Part 9; Part 10 Series materlist                                     Masterlist of all my works

Sunday suddenly felt empty when you had no plans for the day and you started lazily. You made yourself some coffee and drank it, while looking through social media, watching your friends post pictures with their happy faces tagged at places you used to go together. It was depressing and you decided you would stay away from it, not wanting to invite in feelings of loneliness or sadness. For a moment you considered catching up to some work, but quickly decided against it. You felt anxious just thinking about how much you had left to do and this was your only day left for a break before you had to go in the office again, so whatever monstrous pile of emails you had to face, you’d do so tomorrow. Catching up to reading, a pile of books already waiting for you, presented itself as most appealing and you picked the top one, finding your last page and loosing yourself entirely. At home, Wanda listened excitedly while you read, enjoying the narration while she completed her own choirs, doing laundry and the many dirty dishes she never seemed to stop generating, cleaning the kitchen and all the other things that always needed doing in a household. Your voice had become such a big part of her day now, she hated how much you were gone during week days. You were having a fairly normal day as well, burying yourself in your normal activities, every once in a while dipping in the pool to cool down from the heat. By the afternoon, you were bored, Wanda could tell. She had just put down the boys for an afternoon nap, deciding to tune in and see what she missed from the book, when she realized you were no longer reading at all. You were trying to find something interesting to watch, but she could feel you were frustrated. She was about to delve in a bit deeper, trying to find out what bothered you, when you suddenly switched the TV off entirely, sighing deeply even within your own mind and lying down on the couch, closing your eyes. Your mind stayed blank for a few long moments, while Wanda descended the stairs of her house, sitting on her living room couch, just as you had done. She was thinking of some excuse she could use to come over, ease your mind or simply give you her company, when your mood changed and the blankness that surrounded you started to change into images that quickly came to life. In your mind you were in your bedroom, wearing nothing but a skimpy, red lingerie set. The bra was covered in lace and it lifted your breasts like an offering, while the lacy panties accentuated your ass perfectly. You were stunning as you lay across your bed, your hair fanning around you. A woman stood nearby, considering her actions for just a moment, before she walked towards you and sat on the bed, her hands immediately finding your thigs and starting to stroke your heated skin. Her touch made your eyes fly open and you looked up to her, smiling as she leaned down to kiss your lips. Wanda quickly realized where this fantasy was going to lead up to and she contemplated her choices, considering if she should just pull away and give you the privacy you deserved, her hands twisting in a nervous manner. She wasn’t proud of this, but her curiosity and lust quickly won over that thought and she headed back upstairs, entering her bedroom, locking the door swiftly and lying on top of the covers. The last time she couldn’t get a second alone, but now? Now there was nothing standing in her way and you were just impossible to resist. Fuck, you were wearing her favorite color, as if waiting just for her. How could she deny herself this treat? The woman you conjured up for yourself had black hair, chocolate eyes and full, luscious lips, painted in dark red lipstick. She wasn’t much taller than you, but she easily commanded respect, her voice sharp and deep. She wore a tight black pencil skirt and a pristine white shirt, completed with high heels. She was beautiful, it wasn’t hard to notice and from the first moment Wanda saw this woman she could tell that this wasn’t random. In your head the kiss turned heated, making you pull the woman towards you as much as you could. She put a single finger under your chin and made you face her, her eyes full of fire. She had a permanent smile on her face, one of calm superiority as she took you in. “Well?” She asked calmly. “Go on sweetheart, tell Mommy what she wants to hear and you can have what you want.” She spoke in the same level, honeyed voice. “I need you, Mommy.” You told her without hesitation. “Please, I need you.”   She examined you for a few seconds at that, as if she could tell if you were lying, before she straddled you, pressing herself against your body and kissed you, easily dominating the kiss and stealing your breath away. “Say that again.” She demanded as her eyes trailed lower for the first time during your encounter. “Please, Mommy, I need you.” You practically begged, your arms wrapping around the woman’s waist and keeping her close. Her next kiss was almost bruising, her tongue delving into your mouth and making you melt. You easily surrendered to her, no fight or resistance even crossing your mind. You knew she always won. You knew that every time you tried, she put you back in your place, made you wait for what you really craved and right now you didn’t want to wait at all. In her bed, Wanda felt the unsettling feeling in her chest of her heart protesting your connection with this woman that she knew nothing about and her gut filled with jealous rage that it was her filling your thoughts and not Wanda and she made a mental note to search your brain for her identity. If she had competition for your affections, she certainly wanted to know, because everything inside her screamed that she could be so much better, she could make you feel so much more, she could offer you extasy you never even dreamt of… If only you’d let her have you. Despite that, her body ached for attention. After the last time she saw one of your fantasies, she had been on edge, waiting for the next one. She had watched you all week, parading yourself in revealing outfits and showing off your body. At the pool, she had grown wet just imagining you being hers. She had been plagued by thoughts of you, plagued by lust and need and she had waited for this moment. Her clit was twitching just from seeing you in your underwear and her walls pulsated around nothing as she imagined it was her kissing you. She was desperate to be touched for days while she waited for you. Now that this was happening, nothing was going to take this away from her, so she ignored the woman’s presence and focused entirely on you, imagining that it was her you were offering yourself to. The woman’s lipstick smeared on your lips, so red and taunting Wanda with its presence, as your mommy undid your bra and threw it carelessly on the floor, her eyes taking in your erect nipples. Her fingers tweaked them for a moment, before she pulled her hands away, making you arch your back to chase after her touch. It was a small action, but Wanda admired the grace of it and she traced your body with her eyes, finding that you had a very realistic vision of yourself. In their thoughts, most people saw a glorified idea of who they wanted to be, but she remembered every curve of your body from yesterday and you were just as perfect in real life as you were in your fantasy, and Wanda felt dangerously close to losing control. She felt the threat of losing the patience she so dutifully practiced. She could easily take over this fantasy, take the place of the woman on top of you. She would be able to feel every touch, every caress, every kiss, she could have you in a snap of her fingers. It would be so easy to make it happen. The old Wanda certainly would. But the person she was trying to be, couldn’t do that to you. Struggling with her power wasn’t new to her. Morality easily blurred when you could have anything, make anything come true with the snap of your fingers. Right and wrong were concepts more easily seen by those without power. For the rare few like her, who could bend reality itself, making good choices was a matter of will and she currently had to exert all of hers, just to keep herself from taking you. She couldn’t violate you in such a way, couldn’t take advantage of you, when you didn’t know what was even going on. It hurt how much she actually wanted to take the place of the imaginary woman, but she knew it shouldn’t happen. Especially not if she wanted to have the real you some day. Hopefully soon. With a sigh, Wanda tried to make herself comfortable on her bed, knowing it was probably impossible, when she couldn’t do the things she wanted. She made her clothes disappear with a flick of her wrist, not wanting anything to get in her way and she watched as the woman in your fantasy continued to massage your breasts. “Always so responsive.” The woman spoke, her voice like liquid chocolate, thick and sweet and making you want more. “That’s just for me, isn’t it?” She asked with a sly smile. Enjoying her touch and completely forgetting yourself, or perhaps on purpose, you ignored her words, moaning at her touch and biting your lips in a way that had Wanda wanting to lean down and kiss them herself. To kiss them until they were swollen and sore and all you could taste was her. “I asked you a question.” The woman snapped, a slap landing on one of your breasts swiftly and making you snap to attention. “I expect an answer.” She added, brow rising, although she didn’t seem at all angry at you. “Unless you want me to leave?” “That would be a shame.” You smiled at her coyly. Her slap hadn’t hurt at all, there was no sting to her actions, just efficiency. “I know.” The woman smiled. “So be a good girl. Unless you want me to make you behave?” She suggested, raising an eyebrow at you. “No, I just want you.” You rasped and you watched the woman’s smile grow into a grin. “That’s my girl.” She praises softly, leaning down to kiss you once more. She trailed kisses down your neck next, sometimes biting the soft flesh only to soothe it with her tongue, moving even lower to spread kisses across your collarbones and the tops of your breasts, her lipstick littering your skin in red marks in the shape of her lips. God, Wanda wanted to make them disappear. She wanted to take over and cover you with marks of her own, hickeys and bruises that will linger, so she could admire them long after she’s had her way with you. The woman continued her path down, her lips closing around one of your erect nipples, sucking on it gently and letting it out with a pop, happily running her tongue over it as she watched you. You liked the sight of it. It was almost as arousing as the feeling it caused and she repeated the action with the other, massaging and kissing your breasts, before she made her way down your body. Your tummy was ticklish, so she was careful, her hands holding you down so you wouldn’t escape her as she made her way even lower, skipping the place you wanted her most. She kissed your thighs slowly, but firmly, nipping at them and drawing out pleasured moans and gasps, her lipstick marks, now much fainter, still showing her path across your body. Teasingly, slowly, as if to taunt your need, as if to drive Wanda crazy for having to wait, your mommy played with your panties, running her hands over your clothed pussy and leaving kisses. Her hot breath and the light pressure of her lips against your sex had you squirming with need, an outline of a wet patch forming and getting more prominent by the minute, but she didn’t seem to care. She loved teasing you. And when she had enough, she pulled the fabric to the side, only to find a surprise in the form of a small jeweled butt plug inside you.   Wanda gasped at the sight, her pussy twitching in reaction and she hurried to appease her body, starting slow circles against her clit. So you’d let her have all your holes, she thought happily, smirking at the idea. God, the possibilities. She’d have to buy some more fun toys for you. “Is this for me?” The woman asked in a low voice, her thumb putting pressure on the toy as she looked at you, causing a stifled moan to escape you. “All for you, Mommy.” You confirmed happily and she gave you an approving hum. Not wanting to waste any more time, the woman, swiped her tongue over your clit and sighing at your delicate taste. She lapped up your juices with a devilish smirk, the small plug helping her flood your senses with pleasure. She knew you needed so much more of her and she loved that she got to build you up slowly, only providing real stimulation when she’d licked you clean. “Remember the rules, dear. Good girls ask for permission when they want to cum.” Your Mommy reminded, finally wrapping her lips around your clit and starting to circle her tongue over it, making you arch your back in pleasure. God, you were a tease. Wanda would have made you cum already and she’d be bending you over for round two by now. Waiting for you, she hadn’t gotten any relief and despite her efforts to pace herself, she wanted to cum. But she wanted to do it with you and with all her magic surrounding you, she knew you weren’t there yet and your slow pace was frustrating her. Lost in the throws of passion, you let the imaginary woman play her game, your real body playing along. You stimulated yourself to the images in your head, your orgasm building steadily, until you were at the edge, your muscles tightening in anticipation. “Mommy, can I please cum?” You begged the woman between your legs, ready to explore, Wanda close behind you and waiting for the moment she’ll get her patience rewarded, but the woman pulled away. “No.” She responded simply, licking her lips from your arousal and the real you did as you were told, your hands pulling away from your pussy and riding the edge. Disappointingly, infuriatingly, Wanda pulled her own hands away as well, waiting for that edge to pass as she watched you. You seemed to enjoy the game, but she quickly realized it was because you knew you’d make yourself finish in the end. She’d have to show you what real edging feels like when it’s her turn, but for now she wanted this first time to be on your terms. To reach that moment of bliss and share it with you, so she watched as the woman finally pulled down your panties and started to tease you again, this time using her fingers. The woman used a single finger at your opening, dipping it in your wetness. “Do you want me inside you, pretty girl?” She asked, as if she couldn’t see the way you bucked your hips. “Please, Mommy, please, I want you inside me.” You begged, sighing in satisfaction as she sunk inside you. Your mommy entered you slowly, your pussy gripping her tightly. She worked it in and out of you, watching you moan and squirm, your real hand matching her movements. It wasn’t enough, you needed so much more, but your mommy wanted to stretch you out properly, playing with the plug inside you just as much as she did your pussy, only allowing you two fingers when you begged her. Wanda watched the fingers spread your walls, entering you smoothly, accommodated by your pussy. They fit snugly inside you and she marveled at how tight you were. God, she could only imagine how you’ll feel around her own digits. Or better yet, how well she’ll stretch you with her cock. A spell could even help her feel you through the toy. Oh, you’d feel so good wrapped around her, she just knew it. All doe eyed and full of lust and longing, while she thrust herself deep inside you… Fuck, if you let her do that, she’d never let you go. She knew she could do it, make you feel more pleasure than you’ve ever known. The possibilities were endless for her, she could do things no other lover ever could or would do for you. The voice inside her head, entirely her own, told her that she could ruin you. Wanda could make you beg to be fucked, to be touched, to be hers. As she thought all that, she reached down between her spread legs, playing with her wetness, before she entered herself, just as she watched you get filled up. It didn’t take long for another orgasm to build within you, the woman’s fingers curling deliciously to hit your sweet spot had you on the edge in minutes and Wanda braced herself for it, focusing on you, so she wouldn’t miss the moment. “Mommy, can I please cum? Please!” She heard your sweet voice, begging for release, the anticipation building and making you cry out, when the woman pulled her fingers away. “Not like that.” She said, her voice rough. She waited for the orgasm to subside, tweaking your nipples and rubbing the pad of her thumb over the plug, making you grow needier and admiring the view of you in such a state. You were a desperate mess, your pussy leaking juices and achingly clenching in an attempt to relieve the built up tension within you. “You want to cum?” She asked in a growl, her fingers playing with the plug. “Yes, please!” You begged, your back arching, until she pressed you back down. “I bet you wanted me in your tight little hole as well. Isn’t that why you put that little toy inside?” She asked in mocking pity. “Well, I’m not that nice. You can either have the orgasm you begged me so much for and I’ll keep that toy in there, until I decide I want to use you again, or I’ll play with it now and you’ll stay edged until I decide you deserve to cum. What will it be, honey?”   In her bed, Wanda groaned at the words. As much as she appreciated the twistedness of it, something she herself might have done, she wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer and she hoped to God you wouldn’t make her edge herself yet again, her breath caught in her throat as she waited for your answer. “I want to cum, Mommy, please!” You begged, your voice shaky and uneven and the woman smirked. “Have it your way.” She said, as if this wasn’t what she intended, her fingers returning on your pussy once more, circling your clit a little, before they entered you again, making you gasp. She moved them in and out of you steadily, hitting the perfect spot inside you every time and making you see stars. Your hands gripped the sheets in a futile attempt to ground yourself, but it was useless. The woman leaned down, her tongue joining her efforts and in her bed Wanda did the same, pumping inside herself and circling her clit with her other hand, feeling herself get impossibly close and knowing that you were too. She could feel you. The real you, hidden away in your home, doing exactly the same thing Wanda did and the sorceress found a twisted pleasure in such a connection. She could feel you, feel all that energy inside you, while your mind painted the prettiest picture of yourself getting fucked, a private show just for her and she was beside herself with pleasure. “Mommy, I’m gonna…” You almost screamed, reaching your peak for the third time and allowing yourself to fall over the edge in an orgasm that shook you completely. In her bed, Wanda fell apart as well, having one of the most intense orgasms of her life. A pulsing pleasure that started at her core and spread over her entire body. It kept coming in waves, and she barely stifled her moans at the sheer strength of it, riding it out at the image of your writhing body. When both of you calmed down, she was surprised to see you still inside the little fantasy, your physical body content, but your mind still lingering there. The woman pulled away from your body, looking proud of herself and she crawled up to you, giving you a gentle kiss on the lips, her palm caressing your cheek softly, before she put two fingers under your chin and made you face her. “When I get back, I better find that gem exactly where it is.” She reminded you with a smile, the fantasy starting to slowly disappear as you watched her walk away.                                                    *             *             * Now, fully alone, Wanda sighed. That experience was better than she hoped for. It felt earth-shattering. She felt like she really connected with you, like she really shared something meaningful with you. Yes, that might have been a little delusional, you had no idea she was spying on your private thoughts, but she couldn’t help how she felt. She wanted to be close to you and as she relaxed into her bed, actually weightless and satisfied, she thought that this truly would be a wonderful day. _______________________________________________________ I know I made you guys wait for this one, but the chapter is finally here and I’ll start working on the next one as well.  Wanna tell me what you think of it?

[study-with-aura]

Tuesday, April 9, 2024

Today went very well. I am glad that I was able to catch up on my posts during my break earlier. I am now eating my evening snack, and then I will get ready for bed before spending a bit of time with my parents until it is time for sleep.

I am not quite sure if I am a fan of statistics quite yet seeing as conditional probability took me a little longer to understand, but I do think I finally figured it out so it made sense in my brain. On the other hand, the book that I am almost done with is so good. They mentioned the father of taxonomy, who I only recently studied in Biology. Yes, I forgot his name, but it isn't important as he did a terrible thing by assigning value to a person based on their race and said that there were four races, and technically even five, and then he assigned them an order and why they were in that particular order. Apparently, that was one of the ideas behind race realism which is pseudoscience at best in which geneticists even say there is no actual scientific backing for despite how it is often displayed. Although, I am finding this out from this book, with what I know in general, I trust it. Sometimes non-fiction can be difficult to read, but when it's written like this, and because I like history, I don't want to put the book down. It's strange that I somewhat remember hearing about some of the events mentioned in the book, but I can't recall it perfectly. I was only 7 then!

Tasks Completed:

Geometry - Learned about conditional probability + practice + learned to check for independence with conditional probabilities + practice + honors work

Lit and Comp II - Reviewed Unit 23 vocabulary + read chapters 54-55 of Emma by Jane Austen and finished the novel + took quiz on Emma (12/10)

Spanish 2 - Copied and studied clothing vocabulary

Bible I - Read 1 Samuel 13-14:1-15

World History - Learned about Anne Frank + read some of Anne Frank's writings + learned about Nazi ideology

Biology with Lab - Completed virtual mystery "lab" story (14/15)

Foundations - Read more on thoroughness + took next quiz on Read Theory + read steps of Monroe's "Motivated Sequence" + read about the psychology of persuasion

Piano - 60-minute piano lesson + practiced for one hour

Khan Academy - Built into coursework

CLEP - None today

Streaming - Watched Greatest Events of World War II in Color episode 3

Duolingo - Studied for 15 minutes (Spanish, French, Chinese) + completed daily quests

Reading - Read pages 323-376 of Accountable: The True Story of a Racist Social Media Account and the Teenagers Whose Lives It Changed by Dashka Slater

Chores - Laundry

Activities of the Day:

Personal Bible Study (2 Corinthians 6)

Ballet

Pointe

Journal/Mindfulness

-

What I’m Grateful for Today:

I am grateful that my piano teacher was very proud of me today for having three of my pieces fully memorized and almost a fourth!

Quote of the Day:

Without music, life would be a blank to me.

-Emma, Jane Austen

🎧10 Pieces from Romeo and Juliet, Op. 75 - Sergei Prokofiev

[incandescentlysomething]

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 12

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 8792

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.

A/N: This is the ending of book 1! Enjoy! Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 This story is now complete!

Aelinor was nearly mad with waiting by the time Aemond returned to her. The door to her chambers was locked from the outside, guarded by a guard who was unmoved for her pleas. With no means of seeking out answers herself, she was forced to sit in the window, watching the dust settle over the Dragonpit and praying to all the gods she could name that Aemond would come back to her. Her tears dried on her face, her throat sore from her sobbing.

The sun was dipping below the horizon when she heard voices outside her door, and then Aemond was pushing through. His hair was messy, a deep frown carved onto his face, but he looked no less worse for wear.

She began to cry anew, throwing herself across the room and into his arms. He barely caught her, her weight throwing both of them against the wall as she sobbed.

“I thought you were dead!” She beat a fist against his chest. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “No, Lina. I am not dead. Rhaenys only sought to flee, and no one was harmed.”

Aelinor pulled back slightly. “It was Rhaenys, then. I saw Meleys take flight from the Dragonpit and I feared the worst.”

“Only smallfolk and a small number of guards were injured.” Aemond’s hand stroked down her arm, and yet she did not feel comforted. “She had escaped her chambers, we suspect with aid.

Her chambers. Because like Aelinor, the Princess Rhaenys had been confined to her chambers. A well-treated prisoner. A hostage who was served dessert and treated with courtesies. If Aelinor had gone with Aemond to the coronation, might she have been able to flee as well?

“It is done then?” She asked quietly. “Aegon?”

“Yes,” Aemond nodded, a flicker of pain crossing his face when he stepped away. “My brother wears the Conqueror’s crown, and is lord of the realm.”

For how much longer, Aelinor wondered. Rhaenys would surely head straight for Dragonstone, to alert Rhaenyra and Daemon. If they had not already begun to muster their forces, they would now. What would they think when they learned of what had happened? When they realized Aelinor was still a prisoner in the court of the usurper?

“You’ve grown pale,” Aemond whispered, reaching out to touch her arm.

“Is it any surprise?” She scoffed. “With all I have learned today?”

Aemond took her arm and led her toward the chaise, not releasing his touch until she was seated upon it. Then he took the seat opposite her, allowing her a few moments to collect herself.

“We left things very badly earlier,” Aelinor said. “Before…before you left.”

Gods, to think that only a few hours ago she had been angry at him. That she had internally cursed his family and their entire idiotic plot to steal the throne. That those might have been her last word to Aemond, that he might have died in the Dragonpit while she paced in her chambers cursing his name, it was almost too much to bear.

“You were angry,” Aemond’s tone was gentle, understanding. “I cannot blame you for that. Though I will confess, it was not how I hoped you would react.”

“How else should I have reacted?” Aelinor demanded. “I was dragged from my chambers in the dead of night, made aware of a plot to steal my mother’s birthright, and then informed that I am to be a hostage for peace negotiations in a war that your mother and grandfather have started! Have I missed anything?”

Aemond looked down at his feet. “No. Only that I wish you would not think yourself a hostage. You are my betrothed, Lina. We are to be married. Is there not some part of you that is happier for it?”

Aelinor leaned forward, taking his hands in hers. “Aemond, I was happier for it the moment the King announced it. There is no one in the world I would rather marry than you.”

“But?”

“But…” She sighed. “Our union was meant to bring about peace. Now it is being leveraged against me to prevent a war.”

“And if a war is prevented?” Aemond asked. “What then?”

“What do you expect?” Aelinor asked, voicing the thoughts that had filled her mind since she had been alone. “If your brother retains the throne and my mother relinquishes her claim, I have no doubt that your mother will break the betrothal and seek out a bride more to her liking. And if my mother chooses to fight for her crown, if she storms the Keep and lets Daemon cleave Aegon’s head from his shoulders, then they will kill you as well, no matter how I might protest.”

Aemond’s face grew cold. “You have given this a great deal of thought.”

“I wish to marry you, Aemond.” Aelinor squeezed his hands. “But I do not wish to see the world torn apart.”

Aemond stood suddenly, marching toward the window. “Do you think I want this war? Is that it?”

“No!” She exclaimed. “Why would you ever want that?”

But even as she said it, she found herself doubting her words. Could Aemond let go of his grudge against her brothers so easily? He had promised her, but that promise had been made when they believed they would have years to slowly bring their families together and reconcile their feelings. Now they were heading for a terrifying clash, one that provided the perfect opportunity to spew hatred against her brothers.

Aelinor buried her face in her hands. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. She should have been happy. Everything had been so close to perfect, and now it was all ruined.

“What are we going to do, Aemond?” She whispered.

He did not respond.

There were not many options left open for Aelinor. If she tried to flee, to rejoin her family on Dragonstone, then she would most likely be either killed in the attempt or captured. Then she would be treated as a prisoner should be treated, cast into the dungeons somewhere with Jeyne. If she died, or if her family learned that she had been mistreated, there would be war.

But what was her other option? To remain at court and play the good little princess? If she stood at Aemond’s side as he supported his brother then she would be a traitor to her family. And she was many things, but she was not a liar. She could not swear false oaths and fake loyalty to a man who did not deserve his crown. What could Aemond do in all of this? He was loyal to his brother, and while she did not agree with it, she could understand it. After all, she had forgiven her brothers for their own cruelties against her, and she would have stood at Jace’s side against any who might have threatened his claim. Perhaps even against Aemond. So how could she expect him to do any differently?

And how long would she have to decide? Before Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent marched to her door and demanded that she bend the knee or face the consequences. What would she do then? What would Aemond do if she refused?

“I cannot swear to Aegon,” She said. “I cannot. It would kill me.”

“Then I will not ask you to.” His voice was hard.

“But what will you ask of me?” She asked. “Because I cannot remain locked in this room. People will demand answers.” Perhaps they would not. Perhaps there was no one left in King’s Landing who would question their new king on what prisoners he saw fit to keep.

“You shall not be confined, I will see to that.”

“How?” She demanded. “Talk to me, Aemond, please. You are all I have right now.” Her voice broke as she realized that it was true. There was no one else in this city that she could trust, no one who might look out for her or care about her wellbeing.

Aemond turned from the window, startling when he saw her near tears and rushing to her side. “Please, please don’t cry.”

“I don’t mean to!” She hated to be weak, to be so overcome that she could scarcely speak. But this was the most terrifying thing she had ever experienced in her life, and she could not see the way forward.

“You are my betrothed,” Aemond said. “ My Lina. I don’t care who you are sworn to, or if you bend the knee to my useless brother. You will have a place here. Always.”

“At your side.”

He nodded.

“In your brother’s court.”

His nod was more hesitant this time. “Yes.”

It was barely a solution. She could hardly go around proclaiming Aegon a usurper, and sooner or later someone at court would question her presence and the ambiguity of her loyalty. She would be declared a traitor by her mother’s supporters, and an enemy by Aegon’s. She would be parted from her family, from her brothers and Baela and Rhaena and the little ones, for an indeterminable amount of time .

But she would be with Aemond.

Would that be enough?

She reached out a hand, and Aemond did not hesitate before taking it. He dropped to his knees in front of the chaise, resting their hands in her lap. “You’ll stay?”

Did she have a choice? “I will stay with you, Aemond.” For better or for worse.

His face melted in relief, and he leaned up to capture her lips with his. For a brief moment Aelinor let her eyes flutter closed, let herself forget that the world was crumbling to pieces around them, that the dream she’d had of a perfect future with Aemond was being trampled in the chaos.

Aemond’s hand raised to trace her cheek, brushing softly against her nose. She pulled away slowly, regretting the loss of his touch as soon as she moved.

Aemond lifted their hands, pressing soft kisses to the back of her hands. She could feel the apology behind each touch of his lips. I’m sorry . I didn’t want it to be this way . I’ll protect you .

“So what now?” She tried to give him a small smile. “I suppose going for a ride with Darrax and Vhagar is out of the question.”

It was meant as a joke, but his face darkened.

“What is it?” She asked. “Is Darrax alright?” She cursed her selfishness, realizing that she had not even wondered after her dragon, if he might have been injured in Princess Rhaenys’ escape.

Aemond was shaking his head. “No, no, of course he is alright. I checked on all of the dragons before I returned. It was part of what delayed me.”

Of course it was. Because the Aemond she adored would never have let anything hurt their dragons. “Part of what delayed you?”

He looked down. “My mother — that is, the King has requested that I go as an envoy to Storm’s End.”

“But House Baratheon is sworn to my mother.” Aelinor breathed.

“Yes,” Aemond nodded. “I am to deliver an offer of alliance. Supposedly one that he will not be able to refuse.”

Aelinor could think of no offer that would justify breaking an oath. “What is it?”

“I do not know. I am just to deliver the missive.” 

She was sure that her despair showed on her face. Not only was Aemond leaving, but he was walking into almost certain danger. If House Baratheon stayed true to their oath, then Aemond would be a servant of a usurper. They could detain, harm or even kill him. Perhaps turn him over to her mother. 

But if Aemond was welcomed, then it meant that her mother had lost the support of a powerful house. And most troubling of all was that Aelinor did not know which outcome she was praying for.

“How long?” She asked weakly.

“Two days.” He said, squeezing her hands tightly. “I will leave on the morrow, and return in two days.”

Two days. Two days alone in this Keep, alone with her thoughts in a den of traitors and snakes.

“Aemond.” She was begging, though she did not know for what.

“I must, Lina.” He implored. “But I will return to you. I swear it.”

She pressed her eyes closed, taking a shaky breath. “You’ve never broken a promise to me.”

“And I never shall.”

Gods curse her for her stupidity, but she believed it. With all the faith and devotion she had held at five years old, Aelinor chose to believe him. She had no other choice.

“Then,” She forced a smile, trying to blink some tears from her eyes. “Let us have dinner together, so that we each have a good memory to tide us over until we see each other next.”

“In the library?” Aemond asked, lifting his hand to brush her tears away.

She shook her head. The library would remind her too strongly of her grandfather, and she did not know how much more sorrow she could bear. “The garden?”

“The garden.” He agreed, standing from the floor. “I shall order our dinner, and return to escort you in an hour. I must…I must change and speak to my mother first.”

Change because his clothes were still speckled with dust from the Dragonpit. Speak to his mother so that she might prepare him to serve as an envoy for Aegon. The world had truly gone mad.

But Aelinor nodded. “I shall await your return.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, looking like he wanted to say more. But whatever he saw in her eyes scared him into silence, and he turned and left.

************************************

Storm’s End was a miserable, damp, hellhole of a castle.

Aemond’s impression of their potential new allies was a bleak one, making him regret all the more that he had agreed to his grandfather’s request. Anyone could have gone to treat with Lord Borros, could have delivered the message that he held clasped in his hand. This was not worth being parted from Aelinor.

The two of them had taken dinner in the garden. Aemond had the servants move the table away from the balcony, knowing that Aelinor would not be cheered if she were looking out at the city and could see the damage to the Dragonpit. Instead they had eaten in one of the interior pavilions, attended by a small army of servants now that they did not have to keep their meeting a secret. He had tried his best to take her mind off things, but he knew that he had been unsuccessful. No amount of lemon cakes or roast chicken could distract her from the loss of her family. They had retired early, and he had left before the sun rose to reach Storm’s End.

And it would be a loss. Despite what Aemond had told her, he knew that peaceful resolution grew less likely by the day. His mother held some fondness for Princess Rhaenyra, but he could not see an outcome in which she, Prince Daemon, or their pack of bastards were allowed to live the rest of their lives in any comfort, if at all. No, he was not about to risk Aelinor’s safety to sue for peace between their families. Instead he would just have to do his best to ensure that she remained on the right side of things, protected by their betrothal.

But it was difficult to protect her when he was in Storm’s End.

The Storm Keep was not impressed when he compared it to the Red Keep. He’d heard the stories, of course, about how the castle had been destroyed by a thousand storms until finally it’s walls were built strong enough to withstand the gales and thrashing waves that rose up the cliff. And it was not the strength of Storm’s End that he doubted. It’s walls were thick, it’s foundation solid, but the entire thing seemed to be little more than a beautifully carved cave, no amount of tapestries or fur able to keep out the damp cold that permeated every inch of the castle.

He had not been greeted upon his arrival. Vhagar had attracted much attention when he set her down just outside the castle walls, but Lord Borros was not there to greet him. Instead he had been met by the two knights who now led him into the castle. It was a sign of disrespect that the brother of the King had not been greeted properly, but Aemond could understand it. Though his brother sat the throne, things would seem less certain elsewhere in the realm. If Lord Borros were smart he would be sure not to commit to either side without considering his moves wisely. That he had not been meant with iron and steel was an indication that there was hope in Aegon’s cause. The Baratheon’s were not so dedicated to their vows that they would kill him on sight.

Two heavy doors swung open, and Aemond stepped into yet another cavernous room. A small crowd had gathered around the throne at the far end, where a large man with a dark beard sat swathed in a cloak of fur. At his side stood four girls with equally dark locks, along with a small retinue of knights and other lords that Aemond did not recognize.

“Prince Aemond!” Lord Borros called. “To what do we owe this visit?”

Aemond supposed he needed no introduction, not when his eye — or lack thereof — made his identity so obvious. “Lord Borros, I come with a message from your King.”

He walked forward, the letter held in his hand.

“And how is your father?” Lord Borros asked, no hint of subtlety in his tone. “Well, I hope.”

“My father is dead,” Aemond announced, noting the titters it set off in the crowd. “I come in service to the one true King, Aegon Targaryen, Second of his name.”

Lord Borros tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Your elder sister still lives, does she not?”

“I believe so.” Aemond stopped a few feet from the foot of the throne. 

“And was she not sworn in as his heir?” Lord Borros asked. “Or am I misremembering.”

“My Lord Borros is very astute in his memory,” Aemond smirked. “But we must always do what is best for the realm, must we not?”

Lord Borros nodded.

Aemond held out the letter. “From the King, and my mother the Dowager Queen.”

There was an awkward pause, and then someone shuffled forward from the crowd. Aemond let the maester take the letter from his hand, watching the man climb to Lord Borros’ side before breaking the seal and reading aloud.

“I, Aegon Targaryen, Second of my Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do invite House Baratheon to swear fealty to the Iron Throne and my ascension, as is willed by the gods and my father, King Viserys.”

They had made Aemond fly all the way to Storm’s End to deliver that ? Any knight could have delivered that message.

Still, the declaration seemed to alarm the room. People began to shift where they stood, some eyeing him nervously. He was either the brother of a king or a usurper, but he had nonetheless brought this matter to their doorstep.

“In addition,” the Maester continued, “As an act of good faith, I, King Aegon the second, with the support of the Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, to propose a formal alliance be struck between our houses.”

Aemond schooled his features so that none of his confusion showed on his face. A formal alliance? His niece and nephew were still far too young to be wed, though he supposed a betrothal might be enough ‘good faith’ to secure Lord Borros’ support.

“With the consent of Lord Borros, we would seek the betrothal between his eldest unmarried daughter, or whichever daughter he sees fit—”

Something wasn’t right. Aemond started to step forward, but the maester beat him to it.

“And my brother, Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

One of the girls next to the throne let out a shocked gasp. Aemond glared at them, realizing that these were Lord Borros’ daughters. They were pretty enough, he supposed, but it did not matter. He was already betrothed to Aelinor, and no Baratheon could hold a candle to her.

“Well then, boy,” Lord Borros seemed to puff up in his chest. “You bring us an offer of marriage.”

Aemond opened his mouth, ready to dispute their claim. His blood seemed to boil as he realized what his family had done. They had sent him as an emissary to make their offer seem more legitimate, all but forcing him into a position in which he had to feign disloyalty to Aelinor in order to support his brother.

There was no way that any of his family expected him to go through with this plan. He was betrothed to Aelinor, and that had been his father’s dying wish, or close to it. It was not a betrothal that could be broken, nor was it one that he had any intention on breaking.

But this situation required a delicate touch.

“Does House Baratheon require bribery to ensure their loyalty?” He asked, trying to force some levity into his tone.

Lord Borros let out a single, hearty guffaw. “Hardly bribery when it is freely given. As it is, my House is so overcome with loyalty that we could never refuse such an offer from the Crown.”

Because who would? Aemond glanced at his daughters again, wondering which of them was the eldest. He would not marry any of them, and from the frightened looks they were casting his way, they did not wish to marry him either. They were no different from the ladies of King’s Landing who trembled any time he cast his eye over them. 

“Is this it then, boy?” Lord Borros demanded. “If we pledge allegiance to your brother, swear to him as the King, then you shall marry one of my daughters.”

No . Aemond thought. I shall never marry anyone who is not Lina.

But what was the harm in lying? Once his brother’s claim was secured, they could break the engagement without consequence. If any rebellion had already been suppressed, if Princess Rhaenyra and her family had already submitted, House Baratheon would be forced to set aside their discontentment. Yes, this would work. As soon as Aemond returned to King’s Landing, he would take his mother aside and tell her his plan. They would hold to this false betrothal until such time that they no longer needed House Baratheon, and then they would break it and he would be free to marry Aelinor. Perhaps they would even find some wealthy lord to marry one of the Baratheon girls, as a show of good faith. His mother had likely already thought of this plan, and would support him when the time came.

So Aemond gave a sharp bow of his head. “I shall do as the King wills.”

Lord Borros smiled. “Very well then. To the King!”

*************************************

As forlorn as Aelinor felt without Aemond, she was determined to make a good showing at court. If what Aemond said was true and she was not a prisoner, then she needed to act as a guest. She would not remain in her chamber sulking and hiding as the Hightowers schemed against her family. No, she would not allow them that privacy. If they could move freely through the castle, then so could she.

Still, it took her until nearly midday to work up the courage and prepare herself to leave her rooms. Dressing herself without Jeyne was not a struggle, but she was not skilled enough to manage her hair, so she settled on a simple braid with her dragon hair pin at the crown of her head. Her dress was a plain gown in sleek black velvet, the long sleeves decorated at the elbow by thin silver bands. A mourning gown, for the death of her grandfather, with just enough ornamentation to show her standing.

She was a princess of House Targaryen. The daughter of the rightful queen. And she would not be made to hide.

The guards stood to attention when she opened her door, twin looks of confusion on their faces.

“Princess?”

Aelinor clasped her hands in front of her, the picture of a proper princess. “I am going for a walk. I assume you both will be accompanying me?”

“We…have been told to escort you, Princess.”

They had been told to keep an eye on her, more likely, but she didn’t care. They wouldn’t stop her, and that was what mattered.

She started down the hallway, keeping a brisk but casual pace that kept the guards following just a few steps behind her. The corridors were empty, an uneasy quiet filling the halls as she realized that far too many of the rooms she passed were vacant. Where had their occupants gone? Fled in the chaos? Imprisoned? Or worse?

The thought was one that could have sent her spiraling, so Aelinor once again focused on her goals. She must get her bearings and try to understand what was happening at court. She could not be useful to anyone, not even herself, if she was clueless as to what was going on. As she walked, her second goal would be to find someone who could help her find Jeyne. Not only was it not appropriate for her to not have a chaperone or a maid, but Aelinor did not like to think of any member of her household being treated unkindly. She had hope that Jeyne had simply been reassigned, perhaps told to work in the kitchens until she could be returned to Aelinor’s service. Whatever the answer might be, Aelinor would find it.

As she approached the center of the Keep and the main gathering halls, she slowly found herself surrounded by more and more nobles. They huddled in small groups, many of them with shoulders hunched or red rimmed eyes. Too many of them were wearing mourning black, and more than a few wore Hightower green. All of them turned to look as she passed, with only a few remembering to bow in greeting. 

Aelinor did not pretend with niceties as she had when she first arrived, and did not grace them with so much as a nod. They did not deserve it. The frequency of the color green, and the fact that these people were still alive, all but confirmed that they had declared for Aegon. And Aelinor would not treat with oathbreakers.

“Princess.” A voice said from behind her, and she watched as expressions of alarm spread through the crowd.

She turned slowly, keeping a mask of indifference on her face. “Lord Larys.”

The lord in question stood behind her, wearing a black doublet with a dark green undershirt, pinned in place with a small bee-shaped broach. His cane was clasped in both hands, and that same unnerving smile was painted on his face.

“I admit, Princess, I did not expect to see you today.” 

“No?” She kept her tone light. “I thought to take a walk. I found my chambers rather…confining.”

“I’m sure,” He hummed, his gaze scanning her from head to toe. “I’m sure you are lonely with Prince Aemond being gone. Perhaps I might offer my company?”

She would rather die. “That is not necessary nor suitable, Lord Larys.” She said quickly. “I would sooner keep company with the ladies of the court, though I do not see as many familiar faces as I would have expected.”

“As you can imagine, recent events have been divisive.” Lord Larys smiled.

“Evidently.” She wanted to turn and walk away, yet she knew that Lord Larys had the ear of the Queen, and as such likely had many of the answers she sought.

A guard walked up to Lord Larys, leaning down to speak in a low tone. “Lord Larys, you are needed in the dungeons.”

“The dungeons?” Aelinor said sharply. “I should not think the dungeons would require the attentions of a lord of your standing.” She spoke loudly, her words setting off an uncomfortable murmur in the gather nobles.

“As it is, we find our cells rather crowded at the moment.” Lord Larys said. “I must excuse myself.”

“You are not excused, Lord Larys.” Aelinor declared. She was a princess, after all, and it would be a grave insult for him to turn his back on her. She saw a muscle tick in Lord Larys’ jaw, and his tongue darted out to lick the corner of his lips. 

“I am looking for my maid,” She said. “Her name is Jeyne and I understand she was detained the night of the King’s death. I want her returned to me.”

Lord Larys clicked his tongue. “Then I am afraid I must disappoint you, Princess.”

“I am prepared to go to the Queen,” Aelinor said. “She would not deny me my maid.”

“Oh, I have no doubt that she would not deny you a maid,” He tilted his head. “But alas, your maid, and all that remained of the Princess Rhaenyra’s household, have already been executed as suspected spies.”

A deathly silence fell over the hall.

“Executed?” Aelinor breathed, her chest feeling too tight. “When?”

“Yesterday evening, Princess, on the orders of the Hand.” Lord Larys bowed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

This time she did not protest, letting him walk away and leave her in her barely concealed grief.

Yesterday . 

While she had been dining with Aemond, worrying over how she was going to miss him and how she would survive the confines of this new court, Otto Hightower had ordered that Jeyne be murdered. Who else? She was ashamed to realize that she did not know the names of the grooms who had remained to care for Darrax, or the tailor and stewards who had remained to help her get settled, before returning to their own families on Dragonstone in the coming weeks. They would never get the chance to return now. Was it her fault? Instead of eating dinner in the gardens and wallowing in her own grief, she should have been demanding their safe return, fighting for them. That was her duty, and she had failed them.

People were dead, and she hadn’t been able to stop it.

And she had a terrible feeling that this was only the beginning.

************************************

Lucerys Velaryon was here.

This complicated things. The boy was soaked to the bone, but kept from shivering as he walked into the hall. Aemond held back, just out of view of his nephew. 

After delivering his message, Aemond had been offered a meal, which decorum had forced him to take. He had been preparing to leave, unwilling to spend anymore time away from Aelinor, when word came that Vermax had landed in the courtyard.

Lucerys’ eyes were scanning the crowd, unease clouding his features. No doubt he had seen Vhagar outside the castle, and he would be looking for Aemond to be somewhere within these halls.

“Lord Borros,” Lucerys announced, his voice impressively powerful. “I bring a message from my mother, The Queen.”

Lord Borros let out a huff of amusement. “Yet earlier this day I received an envoy from the King. Which is it, King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

Aemond stepped forward, a smirk pulling at his lips when Lucerys’ eyes widened. The bastard had not expected to be beaten in this game of diplomacy, and Aemond wondered whether the boy had the mettle needed to best him. 

But Lord Borros’ words were not to be borne. How dare he question the House of the Dragon? It was for exactly that reason that this uncertainty must be squashed as quickly as possible, lest the power of their House be questioned. 

Lucerys handed over his missive, and the maester hurried forward to read it. Aemond smirked as Lord Borros scoffed.

“Remind me of my father’s oath?” He shook his head. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids, which of my daughters will you marry, boy?”

Lucerys swallowed. “My lord, I am not free to marry. And I am already betrothed.”

“So you come with empty hands?”

“King Aegon is already married,” Lucerys said. “Does he claim to set aside his wife for your daughters?”

Aemond saw what he was trying to do, attempting to sow distrust into their brand new alliance. It was smart, something that Aemond himself would have tried to do.

“The offer is from his brother and envoy, Prince Aemond.” Lord Borros gestured to where Aemond waited. “So you come empty handed, boy.”

Lucerys turned to look at Aemond, confusion coloring his face. Aemond kept his expression neutral.

“This cannot be, My Lord,” Lucerys said hesitantly. “For I know Prince Aemond to be betrothed to my sister, Aelinor Velaryon. Unless…he has broken this engagement?”

Aemond heard the question he did not speak. Where is my sister?

The irritating thing was that Lucerys was right. Aemond could never cast Aelinor aside, but for the sake of his family, he must pretend that he was willing to do so. 

So he squared his shoulders and said, “Princess Aelinor is the daughter of a traitor. I do as my King wills.”

Lucerys shook his head incredulously. “Then you are an oathbreaker, and as unworthy of my sister as you ever were.”

He turned back to Lord Borros, offering a polite bow. “I shall take your response to the Queen, my Lord.”

Unworthy .

You are unworthy of my sister .

“Wait, my Lord Strong,” Aemond stepped forward. “Did you really think you could fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost.”

Lucerys tensed. “I will not fight you. I come as a messenger, not as a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge,” Aemond said, anger simmering in his blood. “No, I want you to put out your eye.”

There were gasps from those gathered in the hall.

“As payment for mine,” He continued, relishing in how Lucerys backed away. “One will serve. I will not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

“No!” Lucerys shouted.

“Then you are craven as well as traitor.” Aemond ripped off his eye patch, letting the bastard see exactly what he had lived with. “Perhaps I should hold your hand in the fire, as you once did to your sister.”

“Do not speak of my sister!” Lucerys stepped forward with surprising boldness. “You who have never deserved her loyalty, nor her love. Where is she? Is she a prisoner in your Keep? Have you killed her already to make room for your new bride?”

“Give me your eye!” Aemond roared.

“I shall give you nothing!” Lucerys shouted. “I come as an envoy. But know this, Usurper, if Aelinor has come to any harm by your hand, you shall not know peace.”

“Who shall bring that vengeance, bastard?” Aemond seethed. “You? Your brother? You are no match for me.”

“Where is my sister?” Lucerys demanded.

“Your eye!” Aemond reached for his sword.

“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros ordered. “Someone escort Lucerys Velaryon back to his dragon. I’ll not have bloodshed beneath my roof.”

Lucerys cast one last glare Aemond’s way, before following the guards out of the hall.

Aemond’s chest heaved, his blood boiling with rage. Who was Lucerys to question his love for Aelinor? To suggest that he had hurt her? She stayed in the Red Keep for her own safety, and no matter that his family considered her a hostage, she was still his betrothed. 

But that bastard conspired to take his brother’s throne, to take Aelinor away from him.

No, Aemond would not make it that easy for him. 

And he followed Lucerys out of the hall.

**************************************

Aelinor was surprised when the guards allowed her to visit Helaena’s chambers. The Queen’s chambers, as they called it, because her husband was now King. It was nearly laughable. When the door was opened and Aelinor saw her aunt sitting on the chaise, a hoop of needlework in her lap and a vacant expression on her face as she watched her children play on the ground, she thought that she had never seen anyone less queen-like than Helaena.

And it was not a slight against her aunt, or at least, she did not think it was. Helaena was a gentle soul, ill-suited for Aegon and the politics of court. She wondered if her aunt had had any idea of the plot to steal her mother’s throne, or if Helaena was just an unwitting passenger in the scheme.

“Aelinor,” Helaena did not look away from her children. “You’re here.”

“I am,” Aelinor looked over her shoulder, waiting until the guards had closed the door behind her. “I am shocked that they will leave me in your company, considering we are apparently enemies.”

“Are we?” Helaena mused. “No one told me.”

“Nor me.” Aelinor went and sat next to her aunt. Leaning over, she studied the embroidery in the hoop. A tangled dark mess, with a single red thread knotted throughout. Not quite messy enough to be a mistake, and yet far too cluttered to be art. But her aunt had never held a particularly clear mind, and these were not easy times.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were playing with wooden blocks on the ground, seemingly unbothered by the tense atmosphere. 

“They’re growing well,” Aelinor said. “They take after you.”

“Do they?” Helaena tilted her head. “I hope not.”

That hurt Aelinor’s heart, to think that her aunt might not see that she was a lovely person. She reached across to take Helaena’s hand, but her aunt flinched away. Aelinor tried not to let that sting, remembering how her aunt had never enjoyed being touched.

“I’m so scared, Helaena,” she whispered, knowing that she could trust her aunt to keep her secret. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you think you should do?” Helaena tore her gaze from the children, an unreadable expression in her eyes.

“I’ve no idea,” Aelinor sighed. “Aemond wants me to stay with him, and I do not wish to leave him, but how can I stay here? I…I cannot pretend to be something I’m not. I won’t.”

“Nor should you.” Helaena said. “You are more of your family than you know.”

It took her a moment to decode that statement. “Yes, I have often been told that I have all of my mother’s stubbornness. Perhaps that will serve me well here, give me the strength to stay true to what I know to be right.”

How did Helaena feel, knowing that Aelinor considered her husband to be a usurper? Did it bother her? Sometimes she thought that Helaena existed in a different world entirely, too distracted to be bothered by their family politics, so long as they never touched her.

“You are your father too.” Helaena’s voice was ice cold.

Aelinor froze. “What do you mean?”

“You will see, before the end.” Helaena sighed. “We all will.”

Aelinor was nothing like Prince Daemon. He was cruel, ruthless, the type of man who sowed chaos and blood everywhere he went. She could never be like that.

“You should go,” Helaena said suddenly.

“What?”

“You should go,” Helaena repeated. “It's for the best.”

“Oh, alright.” Aelinor stood, brushing out her skirt. “I’ll see you tomorrow, perhaps?”

Helaena shrugged, picking up her needle and thread. Aelinor took that as a dismissal, and Helaena started humming as she left the room. It was only when she was nearly back to her chambers that she recognized the tune Helana had been humming as one she had heard many years ago, a disturbing verse from her aunt’s lips. 

“Blood and bars and iron. Blood and bars and iron.”

****************************

The sun was setting when someone began to pound on her door. She nearly froze in terror, remembering that night only a few days ago when the guards had come to take her away. Had they learned that she went to see Helaena? Had the hand finally ordered that she be thrown in the dungeons, or worse?

“Lina!” A frantic voice came from the other side. “Open the door!”

It was Aemond. She hurried to unlatch the door, and he tumbled inside.

Her first thought was that he looked unwell. His face was paler than normal, a slight tremble to his flesh, and his hair still is disarray as if he had come right from the Dragonpit.

“When did you return?” She asked, grasping his arms. “Was there….everything went alright?”

He didn’t respond. “Come, we must go.”

“Go?” She asked. “What do you mean?”

“Come.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her from the room. Her guards were gone from the hall, and she wondered if he had sent them away. 

“Aemond, where are we going?” She asked. “What happened?”

He turned and pressed a finger to her lips. “I beg you, please, please stay quiet. We don’t have long before they realize I’m back.”

Did no one else know he was here? Why was he sneaking around? Aelinor had a million questions, but she did as he asked and refrained from speaking as he led her down the stairs and out into the courtyard. He peered through the door, and once he deemed the coast was clear they hurried toward where is white horse was secured to a pole.

“Where are we going?” Aelinor whispered. “I’m not dressed for—”

“There’s no time,” He insisted, spinning. With an easy motion he grasped her around the waist and lifted her into the front of the saddle, swinging up behind her. 

“We can’t just— Her words died in her throat as he kicked the horse into a gallop and she had to grasp the saddle to stay seated. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other holding the reins as the stallion thundered through the open gates and down into the city.

Aelinor was not dressed for a ride. She wore the same black down she had worn all day with a simple hair pin, and now her hair was fluttering around her face as her skirt exposed her lower legs. Though, she supposed there was no cause to be outraged. They did not pass any guards as they passed into the city, and then they moved so fast that the smallfolk they passed seemed little more than a blur.

Aemond’s hand kept an iron grip on her waist, and she let herself settle back even as unease crept through her. She was certain that she was not supposed to leave the Keep, which meant that Aemond was purposefully doing something forbidden. Why? And had he only just returned from Storm’s End? Surely he should have gone first to the King and to his mother, but instead he had come to her.

They rode for what felt like an hour before they began to climb the hill to the Dragonpit. Aelinor’s mouth dropped open as they passed mounts of crumbled stone, some of them still stained with blood. The broken bodies of the dead had already been cleared away. Aemond pulled his horse to a heel at what had once been the gates, jumping to the ground and pulling her down nearly as quickly.

“Aemond, what are we…”

“Prince Aemond,” One of the Dragonkeepers appeared. “He is ready.” 

“Good.” Aemond tossed a small purse to the man, who slunk back into the shadows without a word.

“Did you just bribe him?” Aelinor demanded. “Aemond, what is happening?”

It was growing dark now, dark shadows cutting across his face. “You’re leaving.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“You need to leave,” He repeated. “They have readied Darrax. If you leave now no one will be able to catch you before you make it to Dragonstone.”

She shook her head, even as hope fluttered in her veins. “What do you mean? Not two days ago you were insisting that I stay with you.”

“Things have changed,” He said. “Things are…I think things will get worse. I will not have you here when that happens.”

Understanding dawned on her. Lord Borros had not agreed to Aegon’s demands. This was fear, terror as he realized that his brother would not be able to keep the throne. 

Aelinor should have been happy. She did not wish for Aegon’s campaign to be successful. But Aemond…he was clearly terrified.

“I shall go to my family,” She said quickly. “I shall speak for you. We shall have peace, Aemond, I know it.” Her mother was far more rational than the Hightowers, and she could sway Daemon into cooperation. There need not be bloodshed.

Aemond shook his head. “You…you need to go, before it’s too late.”

Aelinor realized that he thought he was saying goodbye to her, perhaps for ever. She could not believe that it was true, and yet she had to acknowledge that things seemed terribly uncertain.

She lifted her hands to cup his face, “Aemond.”

“Please,” His voice broke. “You must go. Before…”

Before? Before what?

“Aemond Targaryen,” She forced her voice to be strong. “This is not the end for us. I have loved you all my life, and I will see you again. I swear it.”

A strangled sound escaped his throat. One of his hands dug around in his tunic, removing a small velvet bag. With shaking hands, he held it out to her.

“What is this?” She asked, taking it from him.

He glanced around. “It…it’s for you. Please…”

She wasn’t sure if he was asking her to hurry, or what he might be asking. But she carefully undid the strings, turning the back over her palm.

A small pendant slid into her hand. It was difficult to see in the dim light, but when she lifted it she could see that it was a small blue gem set in gold, a spiderweb-thin gold chain hanging from it.

“Oh Aemond,” She gasped. “It’s beautiful. Is it…” She gasped loudly as she recognized the gem. 

“My…it’s my sapphire!” She gasped. “Your eye?”

He swallowed. “When they cut it to fit my eye, I had them keep that piece. I had it made for you years ago, and I was just waiting to give it to you at the right moment. But now I…”

Now he did not think that there ever would be a right moment. No, Aelinor could not let that stand.

She lifted the pendant over her head, the chain long enough that the sapphire slipped under the front of her dress, coming to rest between her breasts. “Thank you, Aemond.”

But he was shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“We will have more time.” She promised, wrapping her arms around him. “Won’t we?”

He didn’t answer.

A familiar screech sounded from the Dragonpit, and she smiled as Darrax crawled forward. His dark scales glistened in the fading light, and he let out a soft coo when he saw her.

“Aemond?” She turned to him, still waiting on his answer. 

He surged forward, pulling her tightly to his chest and kissing her with furious energy. Aelinor didn’t care that they were in public, that any of the dragon keepers might see them. She just melted into him, dimly aware of tears sliding down both of their faces. She could have stayed that way for an eternity, happily starved of oxygen if it meant that they need not be parted.

But Aemond pulled away, his hands tracing over her face. “You need to go. Please.”

She nodded shakily. “Alright, I’ll go.”

With more strength than she thought she had, she tore herself away. Darrax chirped when she grew near, dutifully dipping his shoulder for her to climb into the saddle. It was not easy in her gown, but she managed to settle herself and secure the straps around her thighs. Once she had the reins in her hand, she turned to look at Aemond.

“You’ll be alright, won’t you?” She asked.

Aemond gave a jerky nod. “Of course.”

“Good.” Her throat grew tight. “I’ll miss you.”

He pressed his eyes closed, nodding again. “I shall miss you as well.” 

If she didn’t leave now, she wasn’t sure that she would ever find the strength. “Goodbye, Aemond.”

“Goodbye, Lina.” He stepped back, giving Darrax room to spread his wings.

Aelinor opened her mouth, the words catching in her throat. She took a deep breath. “Darrax, Soves! ”

With a loud screech, Darrax lunged forward, diving off the side of the hills. For a few terrifying moments she was in freefall, and then his wings caught the wind and carried them toward the sky.

*******************************

Dawn was breaking when she sighed Dragonstone. They had flown through the night, Darrax having to work twice as hard to avoid the harsh winds sweeping the coast. She suspected that they had missed the worst of the storm, yet her fingers were still frozen by the time she saw land.

Screams rose from the island as she circled low, aiming for the courtyard. Guards piled into the small space, narrowly avoiding being crushed by Darrax as they landed.

“State your purpose!” Someone yelled. Swords were drawn, reminding Aelinor that this was not a happy homecoming.

“I am Princess Aelinor Velaryon!” She shouted, dismounting as gracefully as she could. “Take me to the Queen!”

She had never thought that she would be so happy to see Dragonstone, but to see the halls filled with familiar faces, to know that she was not about to be arrested or murdered was enough to have her fighting back a grin.

She was escorted the the Great Hall, surprised to find it filled with people.

“Princess Aelinor Velaryon!” Someone announced.

Aelinor stepped forward, scanning the faces. Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys, Baela, Rhaena. No Jace or Luc. At the head of the table, her mother sat in a chair with Prince Daemon by her side.

Not forgetting the new order of things, Aelinor dipped into a curtsy. “Your Grace.”

“Come from King’s Landing?” Prince Daemon asked.

There was a heavy feeling in the air, one that made Aelinor wish to curl up into herself.

“Yes, I flew through the night.” Aelinor said, turning to Princess Rhaenys. “I was glad to hear of your escape, Princess.”

“And I am surprised to learn of yours,” Princess Rhaenys said.

“I had assistance.” Aelinor said, deciding not to betray that it was Aemond who had helped her.

Disliking the atmosphere, Aelinor stepped around the stone table, making her toward her mother.

“Mother?” Rhaenyra did not rise to greet her, her face pale and stricken.

Aelinor cast a glare at the crowd, and most of them averted her eyes. She knelt next to her mother’s chair. The gold crown on her head sat low on her brow, and there were salt marks down her cheeks.

With a start, Aelinor realized that she was no longer pregnant. “The babe?” She asked quietly, her voice breaking.

Rhaenyra shook her head. “No. She is gone.”

She. Aelinor had lost a sister.

She reached for her mother’s hand, and Rhaenyra took it, giving her daughter’s hand a squeeze. “I have missed you, Mother.”

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed together, as if she were trying for a smile and failing. Something was wrong.

Aelinor looked around, noting the absences from the table. “Where are Jace and Luc?”

“Jacaerys flies North,” her father said, “ To summon the banners to your mother’s cause.”

Jace was well-suited to diplomacy, and Aelinor had no doubt that he would do well. “And Luc?”

Rhaenyra made a broken sound, and Aelinor felt her stomach drop. “What is it?”

Prince Daemon’s fingers tightened over the hilt of his sword. “Prince Lucerys was sent as an envoy to Storm’s End.”

Aelinor was going to be sick.

“And word reached us before we fished his remains out of the sea.” Prince Daemon finished.

“No,” Aelinor breathed. “No, it cannot be.”

“Lucerys is dead,” Rhaenyra choked out. “Murdered.”

“Murdered.” Aelinor shook her head. “This is not possible.”

She rose shakily to her feat, feeling as though the world was falling out from under her. 

“Don’t forget the most important part,” Prince Daemon leveled his gaze at Aelinor, and she knew what he was going to say even before he spoke. “His murderer, the one who they say hunted him through the halls and pursued him into a storm.”

“Please, no.” Aelinor begged.

“Your brother was killed by Aemond Targaryen.”

Aelinor’s world shattered.

[xiakeponz]

I just wanted to translate a lil' bit of this book I was reading, because I didn't realise just how many poems (in the case of this book, Tang dynasty poems) have been lost to the ravages of time, and what a miracle it is that we even have a 唐诗三百首 today. Short note from me about translation approach is at the end under the cut.

唐诗寒武纪

王晓磊 (六神磊磊) 著

ISBN: 978-7-5302-2250-8

The Cambrian Age of Tang Poems by Author Wang Xiaolei (ISBN: 978-7-5302-2250-8)

Chapter 1 

Do you know how fortunate you are to be able to read Tang poems today? 

我志在删述，垂辉映千春。- 李白

My ambition is as grand as when Confucius compiled The Book of Poems, so that the radiance of my poems may shine a thousand springs from now. 

At a time 400 years ago from the present day, during the Tianqi Era (1621-1628) of the Ming Dynasty, when Eunuch Wei Zhongxian’s （魏忠贤）authority could eclipse the heavens- 

In the Haiyan district of the Zhejiang Province, there was an old man who silently shed his official’s robes, and folded them neatly. This was a set of blue robes embroidered with white pheasants, signifying that he was a fifth-rank court official. 

Outside, someone yelled, “Official Hu, why haven’t you come out yet! We’re waiting to escort you to De Zhou so you can take up your post there!”

“Take up my post?” The old gentleman gave a small smile, then muttered to himself, “Goodbye,  court politics! I have long grown weary of you. I’m going back to my hometown, and spending the rest of my years completing a very important matter- to compile the most complete set of Tang poems, so that there will no longer be any left out, so that no longer will there be any lost to the ages, so that our descendents can read them all!”

Let us remember the name of this old gentleman: Hu Zhenheng （胡震亨). 

Perhaps it is very difficult for people of the present day to understand - wasn’t he just wanting to make a compilation of poems, was that really so difficult? Did he need to really go this hard? Actually, yes. Back in that time period, it really was that difficult.  During that time, there were no publishing companies, printing factories, libraries, or convenient search engines. If you wanted to look up a poem, you’d have to pore through countless scrolls, you may even need to  trek over mountains and cross rivers just to be able to make a copy - and even after all that, you may not even have been able to make that copy. 

If Ol’ Hu slacked off, and didn’t make this Tang poetry compilation, what would have happened? The answer to that is, that the consequences would have been very dire.

At that time, Tang poetry was already starting to go extinct just like how our flora and fauna species are going into mass extinction today. According to Hu Zhenheng’s estimations, at least half of all Tang poetry had already been lost. 

Perhaps you are thinking, how the hell does poetry just go missing? As long as the poet is good enough, as long as the poem is good enough, then wouldn’t such works just be passed down through the ages, and be able to endure, that way? 

It really doesn’t work like that. 

Let me ask you a very broad question: out of all of the Tang poems, which one is the best? Perhaps many people will respond, off the top of their heads, “A night of moonlit blossoms on the river in spring” (春江花月夜“). This poem is lauded as the “a singular page eclipses the entire Tang dynasty” poem of poems, after all. Well then, who is the author of this fine poem? Many of you readers can answer, Zhang Ruoxu（张若虚）. 

This Mister Zhang has written such a great work, and has made such a great contribution to Tang Poetry. Well then, how many of his poems remain today? A hundred poems? Eighty? The answer will shock you - merely two of his poems remain today. 

The only reason “A night of moonlit blossoms on the river in spring” was able to be passed down to the present day, is really nothing more than a giant fluke. It was thanks to a very accidental opportunity, that when people in the Song dynasty were compiling a book of songs and ballads for their music bureau, they recorded this very poem by Zhang Ruoxu into the compilation, and enabled it to be passed down through the ages. 

Apart from two poems, all the other works created by Zhang Ruoxu in his lifetime, do not exist today. 

Now let me ask you another similar question: out of the pentasyllabic quatrain poems (五言绝句）in the Tang dynasty , which one is the best? Many will immediately respond, “Climbing White Stork Tower” （登鹳雀楼）. Yes, the one which everyone recited as a child - the sun sets against the mountains, the yellow river flows into the sea” (白日依山尽，黄河入海流）. Its author is recognised by most people as Wang Zhihuan (王之涣）. 

So then, how many poems has the great poet Wang Zhihuan left behind? The answer will again flabbergast you as you read it: there are only six poems left behind, the rest are all gone. 

Within a thousand years, we do not know how many lines like “the sun sets against the mountains （白日依山尽）”, and “the tides of the ocean and the moon rise in tandem （海上明月共潮生）” have been lost to the ages forever. 

The misfortunes of our friends Wang Zhihuan and Zhang Ruoxu, were not mere happenstance. 

How many poems of Li Bai （李白）have lived on to see the light of today? The most pessimistic takes say that, about one-tenth of all his poems exist today. 

This great genius has been writing poetry all his life, so estimates of his total poem count sits at around five thousand to ten thousand poems. For every ten of his poems, we may never ever be able to read eight or nine of them. 

Before passing away, Li Bai had sorted out all of the drafts and writings he had made in his lifetime, and solemnly entrusted it all to his uncle （族叔）, Li Yangbing （李阳冰）, and asked that he compile them into volumes, so that it can be passed down through generations. Li Yangbing did not fail Li Bai’s wishes, and poured his heart into compiling the Thatched Cottage Anthologies （草堂集）of which there were ten scrolls … which then subsequently got lost to the ages in the Song Dynasty. 

Now let’s talk about Du Fu （杜甫）。Essentially all the poems written by this similarly great poet before the age of forty, have been lost to the ages. How long did Du Fu live? Until age fifty-eight. That is to say, that all the poems he wrote for most of his life, were all for nothing. 

Another big shot, Wang Wei, （王维）fared no better. During the Kaiyuan era alone (713-741) he wrote hundreds if not thousands of poems. By the end, less than one-tenth of the total remained. 

There are countless other examples. The early Tang poet, Song Zhiwen（宋之问）was big-name poet who established the foundations of regulated verse poetry. He had poetry volumes circulating during the Tang Dynasty, however the circulation still ended during the Jiajing era of the Ming dynasty, and was finally lost during the Wanli era. All twenty volumes of the writings of gifted female scholar-official, Shangguan Wan’er （上官婉儿）, were entirely lost in the Song dynasty, and we only have thirty-two of her poems remaining today. 

The poetry volumes written by one of the “Elite Fours” of the early Tang dynasty, Wang Bo （王勃）,the genius who famously wrote “the hues of twilight fall in line with the solitary flight of a wild mallard （落霞与孤鹜齐飞）”, were arduously able to survive for a few hundred years, however, come the Ming dynasty, they were all completely lost all the same. 

This is like saying that the complete works of Jing Yong （金庸）were all lost to the ages, and you would only be able to glean snippets and excerpts of his original writings from the column writings of Liushen Leilei （六神磊磊）to get your hit. Just the thought of it makes me want to cry. 

The great Meng Haoran （孟浩然） can be counted as lucky. Shortly after he passed away, there were already people making compilations of his poems. Even so, many of his creations have still been lost. There is also the great Li Shangyin （李商隐）, who wrote “the silkworm spins silk even ‘til death （春蚕到死丝方尽）” and “our hearts are connected through a singular nexus (心有灵犀一点通)” , who personally compiled forty-odd scrolls of his writings, however, those have all been lost, and not a single volume remains. His poems have all been scrabbled together piece-by-piece, by those after his time. 

So, do you still think that those poems which have been lost to time, were lost purely because they were shoddy poems, of little worth, so no one wanted to remember them? Not at all. Even if they made a mark in their heyday, poems that are handed down will eventually be lost to time, all the same. 

People in the Tang dynasty have recorded, that of Li Bai’s CiFu （辞赋）poetry, the poems Dapeng Fu (大鹏赋）and Hongyou Fu （鸿猷赋）were incredibly marvelous, so much so that they even surpassed the calibre of writings of the big guardians of CiFu poetry from the previous generation, Sima Xiangru (司马相如） and Yang Xiong （杨雄）. Fortunately, we can read Dapeng Fu today, but … where is Hongyou Fu? Sorry, it’s gone, lost forever to the ravages of time. 

Translator’s note:

There are many ways to do a translation, and this one is more for the vibes than for the “literal” translation - that is not to say it is inaccurate, but as someone who has translated for years from Japanese to English, or from time to time, Chinese to English (when I feel like it lol) I thought I’d state the purpose of this translation so you can get a sense of my choices here.  I am translating this very casually and more for speed / for fun, it is a very pulling-words-off-the-top-of-my-head translation than the other kind of translation I do where I sit there for hours milling over a singular word. A partial reason for why I can do this style of translation is because the prose of the book itself is very conversational and casual (I will tangentially note, this writing style is kind of controversial with the Author’s other works that discuss poetry, as some readers view it as “low-brow”, but for me, I like it. I think it makes the content very digestible and accessible to readers who are new to poetry). This translation is for my buddies in the poetry club, who are mainly diaspora and/or can read Chinese to any extent anyway (in particular, I want to thank the funny and great @fwoopersongs, for always being here to chat poem stuff and making me interested in the lives of the poets and the context surrounding the poetry rather than just the poems themselves).  As such, I will try to remember to include the Chinese characters for people’s names, so you can read it with the correct tones. I bought this book and started reading, and thought wow, this is cool, I want to share it. A lot of the Chinese terms here I’ve only thought about and experienced in Chinese, I don’t watch Mandarin-language shows with any subtitles, and I don’t typically experience other Chinese Media in English so I am not sure what the “standard” (if any) terms in English would be - it’s for the vibes, especially the parts where I am translating literal poetry. For example, the author pulls verses from poetry here to set the tone for the start of a chapter, so the goal of my translation here to make a translation that it conveys to the reader a reason why that verse was chosen, rather than the “perfect” way 千秋, 碧落，独倚 or a word like that is translated (or, for example, everyone let’s agree on a translation of the poem title 《春江花月夜》 - pain - lol). I do not think I can do any of these poetry translations justice, as poetry translations in any language is more like a feeling of the soul that you try to fit within the available confines of another language, hoping that the reader on the other side can experience something in their own individual way through your shared humanity rather than language alone. Also, I do have a lot of commentary and notes that I wanted to make but I might do that in a different place (maybe as footnotes) at another time, I don’t want to interrupt the flow of the reader by sticking my own comments everywhere.

[nikethestatue]

Spoilers for HOFAS Walmart bonus chapter.

I just finished reading HOFAS and the Walmart bonus chapter, and Az has a specific line:

“Nesta beheaded the King of Hybern herself.”

I’ve seen some anti-elriels using this as proof that Az doesn’t respect Elain. I wanted your perspective on this line (if you’ve read the book/bonus chapter.)

My interpretation was that by saying “Nesta beheaded the King...” Az is actually crediting Elain with the kill while protecting her identity.

Az could have easily said that Nesta “killed the King,” or “slayed the King.” But he says “beheaded.” This word choice seems intentional, to me.

1. We know that Az doesn’t trust Bryce—even though they’re having a fun moment in the bonus chapter. Ultimately though, he considers Bryce a potential enemy who could threaten his planet. And we see throughout the first part of HOFAS that he’s withholding lots of information from Bryce—including all mentions of Elain. And Bryce doesn’t even know Elain exists because she wasn’t at the house at the end of CC2.

2. Az has also learned that the Asteri—the Daglan—are still alive and could prove a threat to Prythian. Elain killed the King of Hybern, and she has powers still unexplored. The Asteri could potentially view her as someone to control and use. Or they might view her as a threat to be killed.

All that to say, I don’t think Az was discrediting Elain. I think he was trying to hide her identity from Bryce since he doesn’t trust her, and he was trying to protect her from unwanted attention, such as attention from the Asteri/Daglan.

Anyway, I was wondering what your interpretation was. :)

I basically agree with you completely.

Throughout their time together, Azriel kept hissing at Nesta, not to divulge unnecessary info. Or any info. I think it's in his nature to not ever speak in general, let alone to someone he considers an enemy. I think Rhys also ordered him not to divulge any info.

He didnt even want Nesta to be talking about the war itself, let alone any of the particulars! It's not like he went 'oh, and then, Feyre and Rhys reforged the cauldron! But then Rhys died. But then he was brought back to life. And then Amren was also dead, but we pulled her out of the Cauldron."

He never mentioned anything even about the people that Bryce met, let alone those she didn't. And yes, Elain is a full-powered, Cauldron Made being--why would he ever mention her to Bryce? She is already annoying him with all the questions.

I mean, he just learned that the Asteri/Daglan are harvesting fae for power. Why would he ever tell anyone about how much power his Court has, and who has that power. Like his Court has 3 Trove Objects, 2 Made sisters, one sister with the powers of all 7 High Lords, and the most powerful High Lord in history, plus two most powerful Illyrians. And then there is also Mor and Amren.

He is not going to fill out a ledger documenting all the powers for Bryce.

I think the fact that he didnt actually mention Elain speaks of him protecting her. Not disclosing anything about her to this stranger.

[faintingheroine]

Based on this discussion (made into a separate post for the sake of length and I do have the habit of reblogging and reblogging my posts about Aşk-ı Memnu and I don’t want to do that to someone else’s post)

I agree that both Fire and Blood and Aşk-ı Memnu are examples of a Subverted Trope regarding Wicked Stepmother rather than a full-fledged Deconstruction. They subvert the expectations regarding the stepmother and the stepdaughter’s personalities, but don’t fully pick the trope apart.

I haven’t watched House of the Dragon, but I listened to the Rhaenyra chapters of Fire and Blood on audiobook some time ago, so I still have an idea.

If we reduce the Wicked Stepmother trope to its basic essence, yes Fire and Blood may not be considered to subvert it. Alicent is a stepmother who is wicked. “Hansel and Gretel” definitely uses the Wicked Stepmother trope, and that story definitely has nothing to do with sexuality or a Madonna-Whore dichotomy. But @la-pheacienne still very much has a point, because unlike with “Hansel and Gretel” where the children are of both genders and are very young in the story, Alicent and Rhaenyra are both women and the different sexuality of both of them is a very integral part of their dynamic. This makes it recall “Cinderella” or “Snow White” far more than “Hansel and Gretel”. Alicent is a stepmother who is wicked, that’s not subverted, but the “Madonna” and “Whore”’s roles are switched and the Wicked Stepmother (who is still wicked!) is the “sexually pure” one who apparently plays by the patriarchy’s rules. That’s still a subversion.

(Maybe Fire and Blood can also be called deconstructive in the way it uses its narrators to tell this story but I don’t remember enough to say something substantial on that).

Aşk-ı Memnu explicitly refers to the Wicked Stepmother trope and its prevalence. A character (who is characterized by her love for fiction and her propensity to search for what she had read in her life) actually thinks this:

“Finally that thing that had been feared, that had been delayed for a year, but that could never be kept from occurring, was finally beginning. Bihter and Nihal were taking out the claws that longed to tear at each other. The old girl was saying to herself, ‘whose fault is it? No one’s!… In the affair itself… Step-mother and daughter! After all, the lives of these people are, for all of history, either a comedy or a tragedy. How will this play end between Bihter and Nihal? I am afraid lest it be a comedy for one and a tragedy for the other…’”

(Chapter 7) (italics mine)

The fairy tale that is most similar to Aşk-ı Memnu is Snow White and its variations. Nihal has a little brother, but as is clear from above, this is a play between a stepmother and a stepdaughter. And sexuality is a very integral part of Aşk-ı Memnu of course. (“Cinderella” might also come into play here, but of course not as much as “Snow White”).

Aşk-ı Memnu does not reverse the “Madonna” and “Whore” positions of the stepmother and stepdaughter: The stepmother is still the sexually transgressive more active woman who is punished by the narrative, and the stepdaughter is the “innocent”, passive character who comes to a relatively happy ending. But Aşk-ı Memnu still subverts this trope in two ways and it then pulls a switcheroo and kind of plays it straight at the end, but also not really:

1- The personalities of the two parties are switched. Nihal might be the “sexually innocent” one, but she is also the one madly jealous of Bihter rather than the other way around.

2- The wickedness of Bihter is purely in Nihal’s head. Nihal completely believes that Bihter is wicked but it is not true at all.

Then the book seems to play it straight at the very end as Bihter becomes jealous of Nihal due to her now having Behlül’s love and has very vengeful, aggressive thoughts on Nihal:

“This emotion united Behlül and Nihal; she wanted to throttle them both in the same vice of wrath and enmity.”

“She did not pity Nihal. She had stored up many grudges against her; all the things she had tolerated had each become an excuse for enmity towards this girl, each bearing the weight of due vengeance. But beyond all this enmity was that in Nihal, who had been a child only yesterday, having emerged a rival. It was this more than anything that she could not forgive Nihal.”

(Chapter 21)

The latter passage is very “Snow White”. But the focus is still on Behlül and Behlül’s love, that’s what Bihter cares about. Snow White and Cinderella’s stepmothers (and stepsisters) really are mostly jealous about them, their beauty and their “virtue”, the Prince is only a symbol. Not so for Bihter. Her wrongs against Nihal (her sacking her governess, her ruining her engagement, even her last vengefulness) are about the affair Bihter had, not about any resentment about Nihal in particular. Bihter is still very much not a Wicked Stepmother, and Nihal is still very much the more jealous one overall.

Aşk-ı Memnu is also of course more subversive or deconstructive than Fire and Blood because in it both the stepmother and the stepdaughter are complicated and very human people. Aşk-ı Memnu is a psychological novel that reveals the inner thoughts of all of its characters and is about a domestic tragedy. Fire and Blood is a faux-history narrated by unreliable narrators that is a companion piece to a fantasy series. Maybe House of the Dragon might be more deconstructive than Fire and Blood in this particular way since in it Alicent and Rhaenyra are supposed to be more complicated and human than their book counterparts. Maybe @minetteskvareninova is right about the TV show being more deconstructive than the book in this particular way, though the deconstruction is apparently not done very competently.

Anyway, thanks for giving me the opportunity to ramble yet again about Aşk-ı Memnu.

[tamurilofrivendell]

Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 13

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist: @captainchrisstan​, @rebleforkicks​, @yjrevolution​, @majahu​, @honey-wine​​ ​, @accio-boys​, @achromaticerebus​, @solomonssimp​, @tired-ass-show-girl​

His eyes held you in place as you lifted your gaze to meet his own, finding yourself both too scared and enthralled to look away. There was a softness in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before, though it was so slight that you wondered if you were just imagining it. You swallowed thickly, doing your best to gain control once again. “I--I’m sorry.” You began. “I just-”

“Sorry for what?”

Truthfully, you did not know, and it showed on your face if Thranduil’s briefly amused expression was anything to go by. Colour crept into your cheeks and you stood quickly, remembering to bow just slightly before you turned to the door. “I will leave you to rest...”

“You like to read?” Thranduil’s voice came again, as you were at the door, reaching for the handle.

Turning, surprised, you nodded. “Uh, yes... I... actually, I love to read.”

Thranduil stared at you for a long moment, looking as though he were thinking very hard about something. You couldn’t help but wonder what it was but then he was moving, pulling himself into a sitting position and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Your eyes widened as the sheets fell, bunching around his waist, and he reached for a shirt on a nearby wall hook. He was undressed beneath the sheet and your gaze took in his broad shoulders, travelling down his torso as though outwith your control entirely. When his gaze flickered back to you as he moved to stand, you immediately forced your body into a spin, cheeks burning as you stood staring a hole into the wood of the door.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there like that but eventually you became aware of Thranduil lingering in the space behind you. He reached out a hand and you visibly flinched, unable to help it. He hesitated, pulling his hand back and sucked in a soft breath, releasing in a sigh. He had frightened you terribly, he knew that. He eyed you for a moment before he moved again, his fingers grasping the door handle, pulling it open. “Follow me.” He said, face a marble mask once more, as he stepped past you and out into the hall. Clutching the book like a lifeline, you followed, legs feeling like they were full of lead. Was he going to lock you up again once and for all?

The silence was deafening as you trailed after the King, keeping up with his long strides as best you could. Everyone you passed bowed to their King, glad to see him better, before continuing with their tasks. You were either looked upon with mild curiosity or ignored and you weren’t sure which one you preferred. When you finally paid more attention to your surroundings than to Thranduil’s long legs, you recognised the hallway and you came to an immediate halt.

Thranduil continued to move, completely unaware for a few moments, before he realised you were no longer behind him. He turned, frowning, a deep flicker of irritation flashing across his face. Why did you always have to make things so difficult? He glowered at you for a long moment before his eyes followed your wide gaze and he realised what the problem was. You were staring at that ruby red curtain at the bottom of that forbidden staircase. Thranduil’s shoulders deflated just slightly and he bit back another sigh before he took two long strides back towards you. “You have nothing to fear.”

You, on the other hand, were panicking beyond belief. Your mind had convinced you that Thranduil had brought you back here so he could finish what he started when you’d gone up there before running away into the forest... you had gone where you weren’t allowed to go and you were the reason he had gotten hurt by those orcs, he probably couldn’t wait another moment to punish you properly. He was going to shout at you, hurt you, lock you back up...

When his deep voice reached your ears, you turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. Where you expected to see steel, you saw something a little softer in his expression, this time definitely real, and it surprised you.

“Please.” He said, gesturing behind him to a door that was hidden away, tucked right beneath the staircase. “I only want to show you something.”

After another long moment during which you hesitated, wondering whether you could run fast enough to hide from him, you nodded and took a step forward. You tilted your chin, holding your head high and your shoulders back, doing your best to look like you weren’t scared in the slightest despite knowing that your reaction had already given it all away. Thranduil hid a smile at that... it was admirable.

Truthfully, he had felt a little... guilty... about what happened when he found you in the West Wing. He had been so angry. When Thranduil was angry about anything to do with his late wife he sometimes had a habit of acting before thinking. He knew this and everybody else knew this too - not you, of course. The topic of his wife and her fate and his grief was forbidden in this realm and had been since she died. Still, he had scared you beyond what he had truly ever intended and put you in danger. He’d immediately followed your trail into the woods that night in case you ran back into any spiders. You were his prisoner, yes, but the Woodland Realm treated their prisoners well enough... unless they were orcs, of course.

He had been surprised when you had not turned and fled with his horse after the orcs were slain, instead helping him return to the palace. He had been surprised when you had stormed after him into his quarters, insisting on tending his wounds. He had been furious with you that night but the guilt had already started to bubble its way slowly up to the surface so he had found himself indulging you... to his detriment, yes, but that was his own fault. He had also heard almost everything that happened while he was unconscious, though waking up to you at his bedside reading to him was incredibly unexpected.

Why you were there, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out and he didn’t plan to spend much time doing so, but he decided you were probably deserving of a little kindness in return... especially if you were to be here for the rest of your life. Thranduil was not one for apologies in a situation such as this, not really, so this was as close as you would get for now.

He pushed the door open and moved inside, waiting for you to follow. He watched your face as you stepped into the room, watched the way your eyes lit up as sheer awe carved itself into your expression. Thranduil had led you into the largest, most beautiful, library you had ever seen in your entire life. The ornately carved shelves reached towards the high ceilings, each one full to bursting with books. More books than you had ever seen and would ever have hoped to see. You had only ever dreamed of being able to look upon so many books, let alone hope to ever read this many.

Your village had no real library and only the smallest selection of books was available to you. You had read and reread your collection over and over, reliving the same stories and relearning the same information as the years passed. Your father had traded for a new book every so often, when he left to do trade with other villages, but that was all. What you were looking upon now was beyond your wildest dreams.

Suddenly, you remembered Thranduil, and you turned. He was watching you and you suddenly felt a little embarrassed. You shook your head and gestured to the room. “This is... it’s incredible.”

Thranduil inclined his head slightly, letting his gaze drift from you and around the room briefly. His hands were clasped behind his back and he was standing tall, proud, every inch the King you remembered but somehow not quite as harsh. “You may use it as you see fit.” He said, glancing back in time to catch the surprise flicker in your eyes. “Come here whenever you wish.”

Without another glance at you, he turned and strode from the room, disappearing back down the corridor. The door clicked shut behind him and you were left standing there, stunned.