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mskenway97 · 9 months

Text

Bot in flames

I have been wanting to write this for a long time and I started thinking about heat cycles in robots.

My mind was focused on bayverse optimus prime and I came up with all this.

Forgive me but I couldn't help but want to XD.

Bayverse Optimus Prime X Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: You are a new mechanic working at NEST after the problems in Egypt, you became very close to the autobot leader, until one moment he started to avoid you, the rest of autobots warnning to you. Until you find out why.

Occurs between revenge of the fallen and dark of the moon.

Words: 2,451

Warnings: heat cycles, belly budge, cumflation, masturbation, multiple orgasm, size difference,possessive, g/t

You had always been interested in technology, you had gone into mechanics although many people would not take you seriously in what you were doing. Until you started seeing something that caught your attention, the Mission City events.

A lot of people said it was a lie, a hoax… Other websites said they had witnesses and testimonies about giant robots. You tried to see more images but nothing.

Everything seemed to be a lie until a giant robot appeared on your TV telling you that you were not alone, that there were more beings in the galaxy. That even though everyone was scared, you were more interested but you were just a mechanic, no matter how much you wanted to meet them you were not going to find them, until you received a letter because of your knowledge, they were needed at the base of NEST.

They blindfolded you and put you in a black car without asking, like the movies, the ride was a bit long until you got to an interrogation room, showing if you had a criminal record, not to reveal the information here without ending up dead. Once finished they took you outside a huge hangar and put you on hold, until a middle-aged man who seemed to be the general, came to pick you up in person.

-Y/N, General Lennox we have seen that your knowledge in mechanics and your project of coexistence between machines and humans is unique. I'm just telling you try to stay calm, you're going to be surrounded by autobots. The first time is usually a surprise.

He wasn't lying when he took me to another hangar with huge beings of different sizes looking at you. I had a feeling of nervousness, butterflies and above all that he would not try to give me a heart attack. It was one thing to see fuzzy pictures on the web sites you had seen and another to see them in person…. Besides your height was not the tallest, you literally understood how the ants felt.

You saw the biggest of them all approaching, it seemed to be the leader, with red and blue flames, with what looked like parts of a truck, despite your situation it seemed interesting to you.

-Y/N, my name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots…. It is a pleasure to meet you, we read your project, it caught our attention, in part we need more human allies that promise us their commitment. If you decide to leave I will understand your motives but if you stay you will be apprenticed to one of our best doctors as well as learning about the coexistence you seek. Do we have your word?

You were trying to calm down when you saw that huge being kneeling in front of you and the rest of them looking at you, seeing that your nervous system was somewhat altered by the situation. Trying to calm down until you felt Lennox's hand on your shoulder as they were waiting for your answer.

You nodded as your mouth had gone dry trying to speak, the giant black robot was amused by your nervousness, he moved closer showing his cannons causing you to stumble to the ground, making him laugh.

-I like this squishy…. I'm going to like working with you

Well in the rest of the news they started to introduce you to the rest of the team, you already knew names like Ratchet, Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Sidewispe, etc. And the rest of the facilities, they put you in charge of working with Ratchet.

The weeks of adaptation were somewhat curious, as you were startled by every scare the twins and Sidewispe gave you.

Ratchet carefully taught you the systems of a robot to take care of them carefully: you learned the different parts of the body of a cybertronian, Ironhide taught you the workings of the weapons although his demonstrations still scared you so much firepower that you reflexively hid behind his leg.

Your favorite sessions were with Optimus, even though he was the biggest of them all, he was very nice to you… You started to get a little more trusting as you told each other about different experiences. He told you about his culture, his planet… You were more and more interested, he was also interested in your customs, your history. Besides, I know that his way of treating you was to carry you in his servos with care, sometimes he was contemplating, with his finger he touched your cheek, it was a strange contact but you felt quite comfortable. He had also put you on his shoulder. You didn't know if it was friendship you had with this bot, but you were happy to finally have a confidant.

You had been in NEST for a few months now, you learned quickly but there was something that had been bothering you in the last week about the behavior of a certain autobot leader.

At first it seemed to you that he was stressed out from the missions in order to find Megatron but every time you were near an Autobot he would get sideways and also with the humans you were working with. You don't talk like before either, every time you tried to talk to him alone he would disappear saying he had something else to do. This was starting to bother you a lot but with the meetings you didn't have the time or the moment.

-Y/N aren't paying attention to the lessons…. - Ratchet said as he tapped me on his digit.

-Sorry, Ratchet, I just had something else on my mind.

-You should be focused on where you are right now. Although I guess it's about Optimus right?

You were surprised to see that the doc bot had guessed it. Seeing your expression, he laughed at you a little.

-It's obvious, everyone at the base is aware of you… The truth is, we haven't seen Optimus happy with someone in millennia.

You sighed as I grabbed the tools and went to work on one of Ironhide's weapons.

-I don't understand his behavior lately… He's been acting so strange, I'm worried.

Ratchet cleared his throat as he became serious while forcing you to look at him with his digits on your chin - This business you should stay out of, y/n. He'll get over it, just try not to be alone with him.

You didn't understand why Ratchet gave you that advice you tried, he looked at you again - Believe me y/n, it's best to keep your distance from Optimus for now.

There was something you didn't understand about what was going on, you asked the rest of the Autobots about it, almost everyone gave you fuzzy answers about what was happening to the autobot leader, until you got to Ironhide who gave you another warning that left you even more surprised.

-Squishy, there are some things you shouldn't meddle with no matter how curious you are. Although if you solve your doubts I wish you luck so you can get out of it - said Ironhide

You were thoughtful about everything you had heard from the autobots, you missed Optimus since the last few months you had felt an attachment to the autobot leader that went beyond friendship with him. You admitted that you had fallen in love with that big guy with blue optics, his kindness, his authority and obviously his height and figure.

Although you were still curious about what was going on, you decided to follow the advice of the autobots not to be alone with the autobot leader for the time being. You were succeeding but every time you entered a room his gaze followed you everywhere. You literally felt like cat and mouse, there would come a time when cat would end up getting what he wanted even though you didn't know what.

Until one day when you were almost ready to leave because you had overstayed your welcome at the base, you heard a noise in the hangars.

Lennox and the military team explained to you that the farthest hangars of the base were for storage or special equipment for both autobots and humans. Something in your instincts told you that you should not go there but you decided to go out of curiosity, you opened the big door carefully, that place was dark so you stepped carefully not to touch anything dangerous.

Your nerves were on edge and the adrenaline was the only thing that kept you moving, you were getting closer to the source of the noise, at the same time you were seeing that there was smoke around, making this put you more alert than before, it was clear that you were not alone in this place.

You came to see a dim light at the back of the warehouse, it was difficult to pass with so many boxes around but you passed as you could. Finally you arrived carefully at the origin where you were surprised to see who was there.

It was Optimus, with his exhaust pipes producing smoke while on a large part of his body there was a pink liquid around his body.

You were about to approach to see if he was okay but you stopped when you heard him…

He was moaning?

He was at the same time rubbing what seemed to be his spike, while there was even more transfluid.

You remembered certain lessons that gave you some embarrassment from Ratchet. You were trying to remember but seeing the leader like that made you tingle. You shook your head it was clear you were not supposed to be here. You were going to tread carefully until you heard him moaning your name….

You tried to leave carefully until you bumped into one of the crates making a lot of noise.

-Who's there?" growled the autobot leader.

You tried to hide quickly only to feel a servo around your body. You closed your eyes, you were trembling at the sight.

-Look at me...

You opened your eyes to see how it was caressing you with its digits. - How long have you been here? - asked the autobot leader.

That tone made you shiver, it didn't seem like Optimus was the one he was talking to.

- I haven't seen anything, I'll leave without bothering...

-No... I've been avoiding this situation for the past few weeks, feeling jealous of the rest that came close to you and what hurts me the most is that you started avoiding me. My y/n... This time, you are going to stay by my side.

You didn't understand what was happening, until two of his fingers were touching your thighs making you shudder.

- You know how much I wanted you, your kindness and curiosity. Your smile, your beauty... and your figure. Oh Primus, my spike was begging to enter your body. To make you mine... I know you want it too

You moaned again, as you felt the pressure on your thighs... you were starting to feel hot I knew you should stop but at the same time you wanted to know where I wanted to go.

His optics were watching you seeing a smile on your face.

-Well I see that you agree....

Then you felt his glossa lick your neck and then kiss you while continuing the pressure on your thighs. Right now you were reacting to several streams of pleasure that you never thought was possible.

His digits removed your pants while he kept kissing you and you felt his glossa tasting your taste.

You moaned as you felt a digit around your entrance.

-I'm just preparing your body for the best part... let yourself go, my little one," he whispered in your ear as you felt his digit touching your insides moving up and down making you moan in different ways for the leader's pleasure while he whispered how much he wanted you, he loved you madly but at the same time he didn't want to scare you away.

You moaned again as you looked up at him.

- Then you too... - you said between moans as he digit around your walls.

-Yes... I love you and I need you...

You climaxed as he pulled out his digit and licked it. He smiled at you as you caught your breath. You thought you were going to rest but you saw he was bringing his spike closer.

-We're not done yet... I want to feel you more... Mine all mine

You were going to protest but you felt his spike enter inside of you and saw a big bulge through your body. He started to move slowly.

-You are so tight

As you gasped as you tried to take it, it overcame the digit. Once he adjusted to your body he began to move faster and faster and you both gasped at the same pace. He was about to climax, you fell in as he could.

-Wait I can't... ah! It's going to be too much.

-Ah! -Easy... i can't out! Ah! Oh Primus! - gasped Optimus as well.

You both climaxed as you felt your body fill with the transfluid.

Your belly completely swollen as he carefully removed his spike while some transfluid fell out.

-That was... Intense - you said while touching your belly - What happened to you?

Optimus kissed your forehead as he placed you close to his chest.

- We have heat cycles something your species would say in heat, I couldn't take it anymore.... I should have done it sooner though, my little one.

You smiled and I snuggled close.

-Then I won't move away next time.

Optimus chuckled and held you close.

You had learned a lesson from the heat cycles, something that was not to be the last time.

#sam writes #optimus prime #transformers #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #transformers x reader #robot x human #maccadam #maccadams #valveplug #transformers g/t #g/t #bayverse optimus prime #i wanted show this so long #i finally finished it #optimus #size difference

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megamindsecretlair · 7 days

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heyyyy sugarplummm, you already know why i’m here🤭🤭🤭. i’d love to a request for teddy richmond??? im thinking smutty smutty down to the ground, but i NEEDDDD overstimulation from oc to teddy and him tapping out??? some crazy crazy shit LMAOOOO please and thank you, i would forever be in your debt🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

A/N: Hope I did it justice! I read a FILTHY fic from @planetblaque, make sure you check her fic out here! Good & Plenty

Ruined

Pairing: Daddy Dom!Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, face sitting, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, overstimulation, reader is able to be picked up, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, rushing.

Summary: See Ask. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog . Terry has been spending more time in the gym lately, preferring to retreat into his head like he often does. Tonight, however, you aim to take his mind off of his worries if only for a little while.

Word Count: 3,232k

AO3 Link

A/N: Ya'll don't ask about this man no more! I need to focus on this book, lordt LOL. He has rotted my brain, enjoy! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Your favorite part of your nightly routine was watching Terry workout. He was never more so in his element then when he was pumping iron, blasting his metal music, and in the zone. He became so focused, lifting weights, leg day, arm day, biceps, triceps, and whatever else he managed to hone into a deadly weapon.

You joined him most nights, but quickly became entranced in the way he lifted his body doing pull ups. Or working his legs out on the machine. Your home gym was nothing to sniff at. Making him deck it out in all of the equipment he ever wanted when he got his settlement from Shelby Springs.

You liked using the bike mostly, setting a program, and pretending to ride up the side of a mountain. You were able to zone out, picturing the mountain air and the subtle breeze. It was a wonderful sight to behold but did little in comparison to Terry’s massive form.

Terry had been a little distant lately, spending more and more time in the gym instead of resting. You entered the gym now to find him facing the wall of mirrors along the far wall, watching himself as he lifted heavy weights in his arms, doing curls.

Something was bothering him. You bit your lip as you watched him. What could it be?

He was focused, not even noticing that you were standing in the doorway. He wore a dusky blue tank and black shorts, compression shorts underneath showing off massive thighs. His earphones were in his ear, probably listening to his favorite band.

You thought over what could possibly be his problem… it occurred to you. It was the anniversary of all the shit that went down. Losing his cousin, violence, racism. You sighed, wondering why he didn’t say anything. Then again, he wasn’t the type of man to burden others with his thoughts.

You sauntered into the gym, taking off your pajama shirt as you did so. You wore no bra underneath so you were bare to the heated room. Your eyes were trained on Terry beside you, soaking through his tank top with sweat. The tattoos on his forearm moved with him, the star and moon on his arm curling.

You stopped beside him, taking off your sleep shorts and panties in one fell swoop. You grabbed your own set of weights and went through a series of light reps, stretching out your limbs and loosening up your body.

Terry looked over at you and then faced forward. He did a double take, nearly dropping the weights in his hands. He caught them at the last minute, placing them down on the dumbbell rack.

“What you doing?” He asked, a smirk curving his face. He took out one of his earbuds.

“Working out, what does it look like?” You asked. You didn’t look directly at him, opting to look at him in the mirror. That was easier. Easier to admire his face without having to look at his eyes dead on. Sometimes it seemed like he looked right down to your soul.

He licked his lips, siding up to you. He was huffing with exertion, reaching up to grab your shoulder. You sidestepped him, tsking at him. “You didn’t finish your workout,” you said.

“You gon’ do me like that?” His voice. Good god. He pitched it even lower, sounding put out and superior at the same time.

“Finish your workout. Go on,” you said. You switched up your stretches, adding in lunges and stretching your thighs.

Terry admired what you were doing, the jiggle in your ass, and the sway of your breasts as you moved. He looked at you in the mirror and you smiled at him. He nodded and then yanked off his tank top.

You faltered in your own routine. His body was insanely ripped. Like a lifelike painting. Like an artist painted each and every ab. You admired the way his body moved. Effortless. Easy. His eyes were trained on you as he took off his shorts and compression shorts, letting his dick spring free.

He was already semi-hard, long and thick, as the tip slapped against his inner thigh. He pulled his other earbud out, tapping away on his phone to put on a playlist you both enjoyed to pump through the house’s speakers. “Coming Undone” by Korn began to blast through the speakers and the dirty beat had you feeling excited. The vibrations in the floor tingled your bare feet. He moved back to retrieve his weights, standing beside you as you both got into your workout routines.

No words were spoken as you looked at each other, eyes dragging along each other’s bodies like a physical caress. His wide chest glistened with sweat as he pumped his arms, curling those biceps that you just wanted to sink your teeth into.

Your plan was to take his mind off of things, coax him into relaxing, and then talk about what was in his head. But you were making your own self bothered, staring at his lean hips, thick thighs, and strong legs.

Your pussy throbbed, as you stared at his dick moving with his effort. Wet slick starting to pool between your legs.

You grunted as you lifted shaking arms to put away your weights. You weren’t as skilled as him and that was okay. You would work yourself up to his level. Sculpting your own body the way you wanted.

You free-stretched, lifting your arms above your head and pushing out your chest. The room seemed to get hotter. You felt every inch of Terry’s gaze on your body. Everywhere his eyes roamed, your body tingled. You were connected to him on a deep, spiritual level.

Terry put away his own weights, the metal clanging above the music playing. The song continued to blast, making your body sway to the chorus. Terry stalked forward, licking his lips, eyes looking his fill as he approached you.

“Time for pushups,” you said.

Terry smirked, encroaching into your personal space. He leaned down to kiss you and you turned your head at the last minute, making him kiss your cheek. He chuckled. “You think you’re cute,” he said against your skin.

You shrugged, a big smile on your face. “Just a little,” you said. You pinched your fingers to show him how much. He laughed, sinking down to his knees. He got into position, facing the mirrors. You climbed onto his back. He tested a few push ups before flicking his eyes towards yours in the mirror.

Wordlessly, he began. He lifted you with ease, not a grunt on him as he kept going, kept pumping his arms. Sweat dripped from his face. You felt his muscles bunch between your legs. You giggled, excited from the high of being lifted on his powerful back.

“Good Daddy,” you purred on top of him.

Terry stopped, staring at you. You smirked and leaned forward, redistributing your weight so you didn’t hurt him. You licked the shell of his ear and he shivered from head to foot. “Such a good Daddy to me,” you moaned in his ear.

Terry shook his head, starting up the push ups again. You rubbed his back, caressing him, scratching your nails against his skin. He groaned, body shuddering again. You continued to tease him, running your nails anywhere you could touch.

“Fuck,” he moaned.

“I can’t wait until you’re all done, sweaty, feeding me that long dick of yours,” you purred in his ear.

Terry stopped again, arms extended. He smirked at you. God, he was fucking beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. He literally took your breath away whenever you saw him. A sigh carried off in the wind.

Music thumped as you looked at each other. Your thoughts were probably broadcast all over your face. You took a quick peek at yourself. You were perched on top of him like a lazy, feline goddess. Brown skin gleaming, eyes low, bottom lip between your teeth. You looked so pretty like this. Felt pretty. Felt amazing because he made you feel like you were flying every time you were with him.

You moaned, thinking of him. Of how wonderful he truly was to you. An entire gift. You rubbed yourself on his back, finding that little bit of friction to keep you going. “Oh shit,” you moaned, head falling forward onto his shoulder. You moaned, getting yourself there.

“Hol’ up.” Terry’s rough voice cut through your fog. He lowered himself to the ground and he rolled to the side to let you off. You climbed off of him and then faced him on the floor.

“You think you get to play with what’s mine?” He asked. He got to his feet, pulling you up with him.

Your thighs tingled as he stepped into your personal space. He grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the weight bench. He straddled it, laying down. You hopped onto him, and he groaned. He must feel the slick between your thighs rubbing against his stomach. His muscles flexed beneath you and you closed your eyes, pussy fluttering.

“Mine,” he growled, winking at you. He pulled you to slide over onto his face, lips sliding through your folds.

“Oh, god,” you sighed and moaned.

Terry hummed, licking his lips. You felt the entire motion, pussy growing wetter from the action. He began to lick you in earnest, moaning between your legs. You gripped onto the weight bar above the bench, held on for dear life, as your legs shook.

The song switched to “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails. Terry followed the erratic beat, flicking his tongue across your clit rapidly, making you shake and twitch on top of him. “Oh, fuck, Terry, shit, oh fuck,” you moaned.

Terry chuckled, gripping onto your ass and spreading your ass cheeks. Terry wrapped his lips around your clit and suckled. You screamed, your toes pushing you off of him from the ground. Terry held on, using his tongue to tease around your entrance.

Stars were blinking on and off in your mind’s eye, lower belly burning with desire. “Terry,” you begged, voice weak and pathetic. Oh fuck, you were about to cum. You began to sink onto his face, putting all your weight down when Terry moved his lips. He pulled away from your entrance right before you were about to cum.

You groaned, leaning back to look at his eyes. There was something deeply erotic about those mesmerizing eyes staring up at you from between your thick thighs. He winked at you and then pushed you off of him.

He sat up so that you straddled his lap. “Ready to stop playing games?” He asked, wiping your essence off.

“Who’s playing?” You asked. You blinked at him innocently, wrapping your arms around his neck. His dick was nestled in your ass, growing harder as you rubbed yourself against him. He hissed, hands flying to your waist to steady you.

You kept moving, kept rocking and rolling your hips so that your wet pussy rubbed against him. “Baby, the games have just begun,” you leaned down and whispered in his ear.

He pulled back, his eyes crinkling as a smile split his face. It was a predatory grin, full of evil intent as he kissed you. You sighed, nibbling on his big, juicy lips. He suckled your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moaned, canting your hips forward once again.

“Another Way” by Sleep Theory came on, turning up the heat. The heavy beginning reverberated under your skin as you scratched at his nape. You moaned into each other’s mouths. Terry’s hands on your waist were no longer hindering you from rubbing on him, grinding on him.

Terry cursed, his hand slipping between your legs. “Good fuckin’ girl. Getting wet for Daddy,” he said in awe.

“You make me so fuckin’ horny, I can’t stand it,” you confessed, capturing his lips with yours again. It was all true. The way his body felt beneath your questing fingers. Tracing every vein, every muscle, every inch of skin. It all served to turn you on more, drive your desire higher, reaching new heights.

“Let me train that throat,” he said, more of a command than a question. You smirked as you slid off of him, already planning your method of attack.

Terry scooted forward on the weight bench, and you gripped his thighs for stability as you lowered to the floor. You smiled, grabbed his dick, and rubbed the bead of pre-cum across your lips.

Terry moaned, licked his lips, tilting his head at you. Your pussy throbbed at the way it made his eyes narrow, made him look cocky. You aimed to change that. You opened your mouth, sucking him down and he groaned as you took him down to the base.

It was hard, no lie, considering his size. But fuck, you were greedy. You breathed through your nose and then slowly dragged him out of your mouth, making sure to lick every inch of him.

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back. He grabbed the sides of your face, stroking his thumb across your cheek, before moving your head faster, making you take more of him.

Silly boy. You resisted, pushing against his hold. He grunted before he let up and that’s when you took over. Giving him the sloppiest, messiest, nastiest head you’d ever given him. “Shit, let me get out yo way,” he breathed, his moans competing with the sounds of the song playing in the background.

You stroked him as you sucked him off, his tip leaking cum. The salty taste of him made you moan, made your thighs tingle. You moved your fingers between your folds, rubbing your own clit as you sucked him off.

Curses flew from his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. Fuck, he was perfect. Absolutely perfect. His mouth dropped open, jaw going slack. He groaned, eyes crinkling with the effort. You took him deep, near gagging, bobbing up and down on his length like you were trying to suck the soul out of his body.

“Shit, slow down,” he said, voice growing needy.

You didn’t listen. You kept going, kept going faster, shaking with the effort. Rocking back and forth on your fingers and bringing your own pleasure back to the front. Back from where he teased.

“Damn girl,” he moaned. His jaw flexed with restrained effort. You moaned around his dick, humming, flicking your tongue across his sensitive tip. You suckled him there, drooling. Your saliva and his pre-cum dribbled down your chin. You locked eyes with him, spat on his dick, and then sucked him back down. Returning to the pace you set, sucking with extra pressure.

“Fuck, fuck,” he panted, his hips pushing up. He tapped your cheek softly and you reluctantly pulled off of him. His huffing breaths were better than the music. His eyes turned deep blue like a lagoon, drunk with pleasure.

His eyes narrowed, staring at you like you stole something. You licked your lips, licking up any extra taste of him. He watched you do it, before he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to him.

He kissed you, lips soft and sweet. You opened your mouth to him, to his exploring tongue, to the bite of his teeth. You moaned, hands trapped by your side.

He stood up abruptly, pulling you over to the mirrors. He wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing your back against the cold, smooth glass.

You yelped, trying to get away from it. Your skin was too heated for it, too sensitive. “Terry, please,” you moaned.

“My turn, baby girl,” he said. He grinned, sliding into you with no preamble. Your mouth dropped open with a scream as he split you open.

“T-T-,”

“Shh, shh, Daddy’s got you,” he cooed as he moved in you like he was punishing you. He was relentless, moving like a jackhammer. Like a well-oiled machine. He held your legs spread open, taking his dick.

“T-too, mu-uch,” you cried, pussy flooding his dick. He was pounding into you so good, your vision turned black. Your ears began to ring. Your back tapped the mirror, shaking it, with the force of his deep thrusts.

“Too much?” He asked.

You held onto his shoulder, nails digging. “Too good, too good,” you moaned.

He moaned with you, synching up your sounds and bringing a new level of intimacy to the moment. He stared in your eyes, nose to nose, heavy breaths fanning across each other’s faces. The wet, dripping mess you made was leaking down your ass and leg, growing wetter.

“How ‘bout now?” He asked. He increased his thrusts, angling you so that he was fucking up into you. The tip of his dick rubbed against a deep spot inside of you, rubbing up into you and making you see stars again. His dick was huge, splitting you, and god it felt so fucking amazing.

“Meanie,” you whimpered, grip growing weak.

Terry kissed along your jaw, your cheeks. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ good for me. Such a good girl, creamin’ on this dick. You always know just what Daddy needs, huh?” He asked.

“Daddy, please! Please let me cum, please, please,” You begged.

His dick throbbed and you crumpled, falling into that abyss of pleasure. Where it filled up your entire being. All of the teasing and edging just sent you overboard, losing yourself and finding yourself in an endless loop of give and take. You twitched and jerked, moaning loud in his ear.

“Fuck. Grip that shit. Show Daddy you love it,” he said. “Show me. Show me.” His thrusts grew frenzied, hips out of alignment, as he lifted one of your legs higher on his hip and then groaned as he climaxed.

His hot, pulsing seed filled you to the brim. “Ahh, that’s my good girl. Take all of me,” he cooed.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned.

You lazily found each other’s lips. He stilled against you, deeply lodged inside like he lived there. Like he didn’t want to leave. Hell, you didn’t want him to leave either. If you could live like this, you would. Never going a moment without him buried in your pussy where he belonged. Where he was always meant to be.

Terry kissed your temple and slowly, so slowly, pulled out of you. He looked down as he watched himself exit, a thick load of cum spilling out behind him. Your pussy contracted, trying to push him all out. You shivered as the cum slipped down, leaking onto the ground.

“Ruined,” he said, smug smile to accompany his words. You looked up at him and kissed him, needing his lips on yours just one more time.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whispered against his lips. He smiled against yours, leaning back just far enough to look you in the eye.

“I think I have a few ideas for the sauna,” he said.

“The sauna?” You asked. He fucked you so well, you didn’t think you could walk straight at the moment. However, there were plenty of areas to sit in the sauna. Light bulbs flashed in your mind, thinking of what dirty schemes he was up to.

Terry grinned, turning away from the mirrors and heading towards the sauna. You giggled and talked to him the entire way there.

The end.

There will be more, but seriously ya'll. Stawp distracting me! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist: @planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

@semi-yah @halfreal-and-halffiction @motheroffae @melaninpov @pinkpantheris

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocus @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone

@thegreatlibraryofalex @miyuhpapayuh @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh

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pasukiyo · 6 months

Text

I CAN SEE YOU

bodyguard!leon scott kennedy x f!popstar!reader word count; 1,381 warnings; p in v sex, that's about it lol, maybe angst if you squint summary; leon doesn't believe he's good enough for you. but even he can't resist when he has you up against the wall of a storage closet five minutes to showtime...

“Five minutes to show time!”

“Has anyone seen her?”

“Where is she?”

Her lips parted in a gasp as she etched crescent moons into his shoulders through the black muscle tee, toes curling as her legs snaked around his waist, trapping him in closer. A hand slithered its way to the hair at the nape of his neck, her head falling forward to press her lips against the shell of his ear, feeling him shudder as he rocked his hips into her.

“We shouldn’t…” Leon groaned and muttered a sharp “fuck!” when she clenched around him, drawing him in closer. He couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to. “…we shouldn’t be doing this.”

She mewled beside his ear at a particularly rough thrust, curling her fingers around a fistful of dark blonde ringlets at his nape and tugging. Leon pulled his face away from her shoulder, his dark sea of blue surging into her gaze like a comet colliding into a planet. Despite his words, Leon’s fingertips burrowed further into the flesh of her hips, her skin swelling with bruises as he drove his cock harder into her, impossibly deeper all the while. They’d only five more minutes to finish, and there’d be no way Leon would be able to do his job if he didn’t get his release now.

“When will you quit acting so noble?” She managed to ask between gasps and stifled moans, nuzzling the bridge of her nose against his. “Like you don’t want this as much as I do?”

Leon hissed a string of curses through his teeth and she caught his lips with hers before he could drop his forehead to her shoulder again. Leon groaned into her mouth, allowing himself to be lost in the battle between their tongues for a moment, for just a second. Her smile was a crescent against his mouth and she leaned forward, hoping to deepen the seal of their lips before he pulled away, panting as he pistoned himself as deep inside of her as he could go, driving her back up the wall in the process.

“Leon!” She gasped, brows knit in pleasure as his hips stilled, the head of his cock pressed so hard against the spongey spot inside of her that she was seeing stars.

“You smeared your lipstick,” he replied simply and she peeled her eyelids back open just as Leon reached out with his thumb, wiping at the smeared makeup on the side of her mouth. Her bottom lip quivered at his touch and Leon peered up at her through hooded lids, sweat beading his hairline and chest heaving in rhythm with his breath.

For a moment, all was silent. For a moment, they only looked at each other, the moment so tender and intimate and such a stark difference from just a few seconds ago. Her heart swelled in her chest the longer she looked at Leon and she let her hands fall from around his neck, to his shoulders, to the chest of his dark ‘BODYGUARD’ muscle tee. She could feel his heart pound beneath her fingertips, beating to the same rhythm as hers. Leon’s bottom lip twitched, as if words hung on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be released until they were interrupted by a sound coming from outside the storage closet door.

“TWO MINUTES TO SHOWTIME! WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE FUCKIN’ FIND HER BEFORE I LOSE MY GODDAMN MIND?”

She released the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in and Leon blinked, bowing his head down between her legs where they were connected, the base of his cock glistening with her slick. He inhaled a shaky breath as she used her legs around his waist to draw herself in closer, wrapping her arms back around his neck. Leon gazed down at her with those enigmatic eyes that held the darkest of oceans, so inviting, she found herself diving in nearly every time she looked at him.

“Kiss me?” She asked, shuddering as she inhaled. Leon’s gaze softened, eyebrows furrowed as he cupped her cheek with one strong hand, holding onto her elbow with the other. He drew her lips back into his where they belonged, beginning to rock his hips into hers again as their tongues danced around one another.

Warmth flooded her cheeks as he picked up his pace, his thrusts harder and more purposeful than they were only a moment before. Her lips parted in a gasp, breaking their kiss as her forehead fell onto his, tears brimming the outskirts of her sockets.

“Leon, I’m so close,” she whispered, mewling as that knot tied deep in the pit of her stomach began to shudder, ready to shatter. Leon nodded against her forehead, a soft curse tumbling from his full, pink lips. “I know,” he murmured back, his grip on her elbow tightening as he thrusted again and again and again, certain to leave a bruise on her cervix.

She could feel tears tip over the glassy barrier in her sockets as bliss washed over her body, her toes curling, her muscles twitching, legs shaking. Leon cursed again as he, too, met his end, hot spurts of his cum filling her up in ropes, painting her white.

“ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME!” She could hear someone yell from outside the door and despite her aching limbs and her sobbing pussy, she softly pushed Leon away just as he snapped her panties back into place. She mewled when the material hit her sore clit, a quiet “sorry” falling from his lips as he worked his pants back up his thighs.

She fixed her stage outfit and Leon helped her down from the shelf he had fucked her into, helping adjust the strap of her top on her shoulder. She looked up at him and after a moment, he met her stare.

“Well?” She said. “Do I look okay?”

“THIRTY SECONDS TO SHOWTIME!”

The corner of Leon’s lips curved into a soft smile, the most tender she swore she’d ever seen him look before, “you look like a star.”

Lights blinded her as she rose from beneath the stage, the crowd like an echo behind her earpieces. She sang the first note into her microphone, closing her eyelids shut as the bass rumbled in her chest. She was on the stage now, a limelight finding her as she faced the sea of screaming fans and phone lights.

“You brush past me in the hallway and you don’t think I, I, I can see you, do you?” she sang the opening line, swaying her hips to the beat, pointing into the crowd as she pranced upon the stage. The ache between her legs was still evident but she pushed thoughts of sex and Leon to the side, letting herself be swayed and taken away by the music.

She sang lyrics she remembered writing deep into the night in a dimly-lit hotel room after Leon had forced himself out of her bed to leave, insisting he was no good for her and she deserved better. The memory of that night still haunted her, especially when she sang these lyrics.

“But what would you do if I went to touch you now?” She sang low into the mic, snapping her palm against her hip to the soft beat. “What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a… so-ow-ound?”

She made her way to one side of the stage as she sang the beginning of the chorus, eyeing the edge of the platform where she knew Leon would be, his back turned to face the crowd.

“And I could see you up against the wall with me. And what would you do, baby, if you only knew?” Her lips curved into a smile against the microphone as she stared into the back of Leon’s dark blonde hair. “That I can see you.”

Although his back was to her, she still had the premonition that he knew she was right behind him. She brought her mic down to her hip and turned, hair whipping behind her as she began a slow strut to the other side of the stage.

She had the strange feeling that he knew she could see him.

a/n; so here's another fic i've had drafted since literally july and only just now got around to finishing it LMAO my first leon fic! i've been wanting to write for this man for years now but only just now got around to it...

TAGLIST;

@bxbyyyjocelyn

@chaoticevilbakugo

@luckypurins

@corruptcoder

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #leon resident evil #leon kennedy x y/n #Spotify

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hopesworlld · 6 months

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౨ৎ sweet like marabou, look at you

౨ৎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 — sugardaddy!hayden x sugarbaby!reader

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — hayden can't handle the thought of anyone seeing you without covering you in his marks

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 — 2k

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — swearing, ownership, possesive!hayden, smut ( dirty talk, hickeys, oral sex f receiving, overstimulation, mention of sex ) hayden calls reader a whore a couple times. think that's all !

౨ৎ 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 ! — oh this concept has me screaming, crying and ripping my hair out

masterlist

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“what do you think you are wearing?” hayden hissed, crossing the room in two short strides so that he was stood before you, eyes falling onto the black dress that clung to your frame, it was strapless and only fell to about mid thigh, the hem and neckline decorated with pretty white tulle.

“my new dress,” you hummed, running your fingers along the black fabric, glossy lips twisted into a ditzy little smile, “don’t you like it, daddy?”

“you wanna wear this out?” hayden asked you, “let everyone see you dressed up like a little whore?” he scoffed and your eyes went wide, a flush spattering across your bare chest.

“no, daddy,” you spluttered, “it’s just pretty i… i thought you would like it,” you pouted, eyes falling down to your feet that were clad in pretty black heels. hayden sighed, reaching out and pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head back up so that you were facing him, tears glossing your doe eyes.

“baby doll,” he said, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip, brushing the pout from your petal lips, “it is pretty, but some of you is only for daddy, don’t need the other guys at the office seeing those pretty thighs,” his free hand ran down your side, landing on your thigh and squeezing it gently. “i’ve seen how they look at you when you come to my office in your little skirts, hoping that you’ll bend over and give them a show,” you whimpered at his words, shaking your head slightly in his grasp.

“don’t want them though, daddy, want you, only you,” you told him and hayden grinned, leaning in and brushing a featherlight kiss on your lips.

“i know, baby,” he told you, “daddy treats you so well, huh, could never leave me, you would be so lost,” he chuckled, kissing you again, laughing louder when you chased his lips, pouting when he pulled away and smirking at you. “tell me, baby doll, tell me what you need,” hayden prompted, sapphire eyes piercing as he watched you swallow, gazing up at him as though he had hung the moon and the stars.

“you, always you, daddy,” you said softly, “need you to look after me, protect me from people who try and take advantage of me,” you continued, parroting the words that hayden had once whispered into your hair after bending you over his desk and spanking you until your cheeks were stained crimson when he noticed you chatting for just a little too long with one of his coworkers. he always knew best.

“good girl,” anakin said, taping your cheek with his palm, “always so good listening to daddy,” he praised, “now we have to leave in a minute so you are gonna let me mark up those pretty thighs so that when everyone see’s you in this dress they know that you belong to me,” he demanded, and you were in no position to tell him no, not when you heard the low timbre of his voice, how he looked at you with those pretty blue eyes, as beautiful as they were hypnotic. you wanted him to claim you, show everyone at his office party that you were his and only his, it sent a rush of heat down to your core, especially as you watched hayden drop to his knees and gaze up at you.

“daddy,” you whined as he ran his hands along your thighs, leaning in and planting delicate kisses along the tops of them, slowly trailing inwards to the meaty flesh bellow your dress, dangerously close to you lace covered cunt.

“hush, baby doll, we don’t have long,” hayden said against your skin, trailing to the tops of your thighs and suctioning the skin there, it was a mixture of pleasure and pain and he sucked crimson marks onto the skin, he trailed up and down your legs, finding any free space to suck his mark and leave you decorated in ruby bursts and the slick of his spit. you had never seen hayden so determined before, he had always been possessive, of course, you were his baby doll, his little play thing, arm candy and whatever else he wanted you to be. but right now he was feral, you watched in fascination as he trailed kisses up your inner thigh before grabbing your right leg and swinging it over his shoulder in a sift motion, you would have lost balance if it weren’t for his big arms securing around your waist and holding you in place.

“so pretty,” he cooed before suckling down on the sensitive skin of your thighs, grinning as he watched you skirm.

“daddy,” you cried out, hands falling to his broad shoulders to stabalise yourself. “daddy, please,” you said, as hayden ghosted over your panties now on show for him seeing as your dress had rode up to your hips when hayden had lifted your leg.

“what is it, baby doll?” he asked teasingly, “feeling a little sensitive here, darling,” you whined in response, head all fuzzy from hayden’s actions, he had the power to utterly control you with just a few simple touches and he loved it. “what do you want? you have to tell me what you need,” he prompted pressing a kiss over your covered clit before slipping back to your thighs, suckling at the skin just where your dress would sit when it was pulled down.

“want daddy to play with me,” you pouted, bucking your hips slightly in his hold and hayden snickered, kissing your thigh.

“feeling needy, baby doll?” he asked, “all it takes is me marking up your thighs to get you wet? such a desperate girl for me,” but he didn’t care, he loved how badly you craved him, just as addicted to the rush as he was, he would do anything for you and you would do the same. you let out a moan when anakin leaned in, using his teeth to tug down your panties revealing your freshly waxed cunt to his view, sticky wetness clinging to your panties, you little clit flushed rosy and throbbing. “such a pretty pussy,” hayden said, as he always did, it was no secret how much he loved that place between your thighs, no matter if he was burying his tongue, fingers or cock between your folds he fucking ate it up, loving every moment you gave him. “you want it?” hayden asked, eyes flicking up to yours, seeing the lust that clouded your gaze.

“so bad, please, daddy, wanna show everyone i’m yours, mark your face with my cum,” now it was hayden’s turn to groan, dick twitching at your dirty words and he fucking loved it.

“yea, baby doll, want to show everyone i’m on the only man that makes you cum, make that pussy squirt all over me,” he didn’t wait for you to reply, to beg for him to give you what you wanted when he was burying his face into you needy cunt, lapping at your slick like a man starved because that was the thing about hayden, he didn’t just eat you out, he devoured you. eating your pussy like it was the last thing he would ever taste, he room was filled with the wet sounds of hayden’s tongue lapping at your cunt while you moaned like a porn star, leg going taunt around his shoulder, hands threading into his perfectly styled hair but he didnt care as he plunged his tongue into your sopping hole.

“daddy, feels so good,” you told him, hips spasaming as he continued to tongue fuck you. it didn’t take long before that coil in your stomach began to unwind, especially when hayden moved from your slit instead focusing on your clit, the little cluster of nerves bursting at the stilumlation as he sucked the bud between his lips and suckled on it, you almost fell limp as the sensation, you had never known a man who knew who to make you cum as quickly as hayden.

“don’t stop,” you pleaded, “please, just like that” your words were hoarse, broken by pleasure as your head fell back, allowing hayden to consume you, you couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything but hayden, the feeling of his mouth, his tongue. “so, close,” you gasped, hayden’s grip on your legs tightened, holding you upright as he grazed his teeth along your clit before giving it a harsh suck, somewhere between pain and pleasure you lost yourself. white spots danced behind your eye lids and you were gone, if it wasn’t for hayden’s strong grip on you, you would have melted into a puddle on the ground, everything around you span, a kaleidoscope of colours churning until you felt nothing but bliss. you vaguely felt hayden lapping up your release but you were too far gone to even react, that was until his mouth went back to your clit.

“daddy, stop,” you gaped, legs shaking as you yanked at his messy golden curls trying to pull him away but hayden released the grip on you hips with one hand and grasped your shaking hands, pulling them away and holding both your wrists with one hand. “please, i just came,” you whimpered but the pleasure was already building once again, a white hot searing thing that made your legs go numb and spine ache.

“and you’ll give me another one,” hayden said against you cunt, his words sending vibrations through your body and you knew he wouldn’t stop, he loved you like this, even in a position where he was vulnerable, on his knees while you towered over him he still had all the control, he could force orgasm after orgasm out of you and you would take it.

“oh my god,” you gasped, your legs were going to give way as hayden sunk his tongue back into your copping core and swirling his tongue, the sick sounds of his tongue slurping up everything you gave him too much, a sob tore from your lips, pretty makeup spilling down your cheeks as another orgasm crashed through you, more powerful than the last. you were pretty sure you were screaming but it was hard to tell as you sank beneath the waves of pleasure, gasping for air as hayden finally stopped his assault on your cunt. your entire body was buzzing with pleasure, a glow that stemmed from your core and flared out like sunlight, you bathed in it as hayden gently set you down on the bed a few steps away.

“feeling good, baby doll?” hayden asked with a silly smirk twisted on his lips, face still coated in your release.

“so good,” you said, voice cracking from the force of your use of it when you came, this only made hayden’s smirk grow wider as he tugged your pantied back up your legs, you winched when they came in contact with your swollen clit.

“did so well for me, darling, made me so proud,” he praised and you lit up at his words, a dazzled smile making its way onto your face.

“thank you, daddy,” you whispered bashfully as hayden pulled you up from the bed and you stood on shaky legs, eyes widening as you caught sight of yourself in the vanity mirror, your mascara had ran down your cheeks in a smokey trail, lip stick smudged around your lips and your hair was frizzy. “oh no,” you pouted, rushing over to dab away the stains.

“what are you doing?” hayden asked you with a cocked brow.

“they are already going to know what you did to me by the state of my legs,” you said gesturing down at the skin of your thighs stained crimson, “i don’t need to be walking in looking like a whore,” you huffed, wiping away the mascara and fixing your lipstick.

“mh, but you’re my little whore, darling,” hayden said, walking behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, a cocky grin painted on his lips.

“yes, your’s daddy,” you sighed, flattening your hair down, “we don’t need everyone seeing me after i cum do we, daddy?” you asked, fluttering your lashes at him and hayden growled.

“never,” he promised and you giggled.

“so, should we get going?” you asked him and hayden nodded, releasing your hips and taking you hand tugging you out of your bedroom, and if everyone stared at you that night because of the marks that stained your thighs you didn’t care, and for hayden, it made him harden in his trousers everytime he caught a glimpse until it was too much and he bent you over the back of his car and fucked you until you cried.

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more sugar daddy hayden maybe???

#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker x reader #hopes fics !#anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #anakin #anakin modern au #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #darth vader x reader #star wars anakin #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen smut #sugar daddy!hayden

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 4: Read Between The Lines]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Boulevard Of Broken Dreams” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

It is your first week of basic training at Great Lakes on the north side of Chicago, and as you lie in the top bunk of your assigned bed you wonder what the hell you’ve done. You enlisted right out of high school, eighteen, no driver’s license, no work history, never been more than fifty miles outside of Soft Shell, Kentucky. The drill sergeants are always yelling and you’re bad at push-ups; you can’t understand the recruits from big cities like Los Angeles, Miami, Las Vegas, Detroit, Houston, and they don’t seem to get you either, and aren’t interested enough to try. Sometimes you wish you hadn’t signed that five-year contract, but where would you be if you weren’t here? Home is not words but textures, colors, fumes that still burn in your sinuses: cigarette ash on rose pink carpets, red embers glowing in the wood stove, Hamburger Helper and Mountain Dew, coffee creamer in Hungry Jack potatoes, laughter and heavy footsteps and slamming doors, scratch-off games, dogs barking, collecting coins from couch cushions for gas money, scrubbing clothes in the bathtub when the washer quits, Mama taking gulps from her favorite cup—plastic, Virginia Beach, filled with equal parts Hawaiian Punch and vodka—when she thinks no one is looking, blue shows flickering on the television, Family Feud, Maury, Good Morning America, WWE SmackDown. For as long as you can remember you’ve known you couldn’t stay. Now you’re getting out, but nothing in life is free.

You are at Class A Technical School in Gulfport, Mississippi, and even though it’s hotter than some noxious, volcanic hellscape—Mercury, Venus, Io—you are beginning to like it. You taste the salt of sweat when you lick your lips, sugar in the sweet tea they serve in the chow hall. There’s a magic in building something where there was only empty space before, in patching roofs and painting walls. Here being quiet and watchful is exactly what they want from you: head down, hammer striking nails, measurements and angles and long hours under the sun with no complaints. You’re not just running away anymore. You are creating something new.

You are sitting beneath swaying palm trees and a full moon on Diego Garcia, draining cans of Guinness with Rio, and he’s telling you things he shouldn’t, too personal, too honest: Sophie wants to try for a baby next time he’s home on leave, and part of him wants that too but he’s terrified. As thunder rumbles in the distance and raindrops begin to patter on the waves of the Indian Ocean, you tell Rio you think he’d be a good father. He wonders how you figure that, and you say because he’s not like any of the men from home. He gives you one of his crooked smiles—a flash of teeth, knowing dark eyes—and doesn’t ask what you mean.

But of course, when you swim up from the inky currents of sleep you are in none of these places. You are curled up on the floor of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio, cheap worn black carpet peppered with stars and swirls in neon green, pink, blue. You stretch out with a yawn. Someone has left a Lemon Tea Snapple within reach; you twist it open and guzzle it, hoping to extinguish the pounding in your skull, a rhythmic thudding of warm maroon, half Captain Morgan and half misery. The music isn’t helping. From the green Toshiba CD player, a man is singing in Spanish. Aegon and Rio are sitting at the nearest table and playing Uno.

Aegon says as he ponders his cards: “You know Enrique Iglesias, right Rio?”

“You are so racist.” Rio puts down a wild. “And the new color is red. Racist.”

“So what’s he saying?”

“Aegon, buddy, I told you, I was born here. My grandparents came over in the 60s. I don’t speak Spanish.”

“You can’t understand any of it?” Aegon is skeptical. He plays a skip, a reverse, and a seven. “My dad never taught me a word of Greek but I can recognize plenty of phrases. Vlákas means idiot. Spatáli chórou is a waste of space.”

Rio sighs, relenting. He puts down a two. “The song is called Súbeme La Radio, Turn Up The Radio For Me. Bring me the alcohol that numbs the pain… I don’t care about anything anymore…You’ve left me in the shadows…”

“Damn, now I’m sad. Draw four, bitch.”

“When the night comes and you don’t answer, I swear to you I’ll stay waiting at your door…” Rio studies his cards. “What’s the new color?”

“Green.”

“Yes!” Rio slams down a skip. “Fleeing from the past in every dawn, I can’t find any way to erase our history…”

Everyone else is awake already. As muted late-morning daylight streams in through the small tinted windows, Aemond is weaving between tables, pointedly checking on each person. He glances at you, says nothing, turns around and walks the other way.

“That’s tough,” Rio says sympathetically, popping open the tab on a can of Chef Boyardee and shoveling ravioli into his mouth with a plastic fork.

Aegon gives you a smirk. “You want to fake date now?”

“I’ll think about it.” No you won’t.

Helaena appears, a prairie girl vision in a modest blue sundress and with her hair tied back with a matching scarf. She reaches into her burlap messenger bag and offers you a choice between a ranch-flavored tuna pouch or a silvery pack of Pop-Tarts. “Strawberry,” she tells you.

“I’ll take the Pop-Tarts.”

Helaena gives them to you and then shakes a bottle of Advil. You’re so groggy it takes you a few seconds to figure out what she wants, then you obediently hold out a hand. Helaena lays two tablets in the center of your palm and moves on, soundlessly like a rabbit or a spider.

You wash the pills down with Snapple. As you nibble half-heartedly on a Pop-Tart—trying not to look at Aemond, multicolored sprinkles falling down onto the carpet—your eyes drift to the tattoo on the underside of Aegon’s forearm. It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You’ve spotted it before. Only now do you remember where you recognize the lyric from. “Is that Green Day?”

“Yeah,” Aegon says, enthused that you noticed. “Letterbomb.”

“I love that whole album.”

“Me too. I could sing it front to back if you asked me to.”

“I’m not asking.”

Aegon cackles and resumes his Uno game with Rio. Baela is wearing denim shorts and a crop top, slathering her belly with Palmer’s cocoa butter from Walmart as she chats with Rhaena and eats Teddy Grahams. Daeron is waxing the string of his compound bow. Jace is gnawing on a Twizzler as he scrutinizes Aegon’s map, annotated with Xs and circles and arrows in sparkling gel pen green.

“I’m going to be a thousand years old by the time we get there,” Jace mutters.

Aegon hits the table with his fist. The discard pile collapses and cascades, an avalanche of Uno cards. Rio, undisturbed, continues contemplating his next move. “You know what, Jace? The cities are full of zombies, the interstates are blocked by fifty-car pileups, if we bump into anyone else who’s still alive they’re just as likely to rob and murder us as want to be friends, and on top of all that I’m trying to do you the favor of preventing you from getting so irradiated you turn into Spider-Man. If you have a better route in mind, I’d love to hear it.”

“Spider-Man…? You’re such a dumbass, what are you talking about?!”

Luke says from where he stands by a window: “Aemond, someone’s outside.”

“What?” Aemond stares at him. “Zombies?”

“No. People.”

Aemond bolts to the doors, the rest of you close behind him. Rhaena turns off the CD player. You, Rio, and Aegon squeeze together to peer out of one of the windows. There are men—three of them, no, four, all appearing to be in their forties—passing by on the main road through town. They are armed with what are either AR-15s or M16s, you can’t tell which.

Rio whistles. “If you get shot by one of those, the exit wound will be the size of an orange.” Everyone looks at him. This was not an encouraging thing to say.

You elaborate: “Thirty-round magazines. Semiautomatic, assuming they’re AR-15s for civilian use. I guess they could have gotten ahold of M16s somehow. Those have a fully automatic setting.”

“So regardless, we’re out-gunned,” Jace says.

“If they know how to use them. Some men think guns are wall decorations, like deer heads or fish.”

Aegon recoils. “Fish?! What the fuck. I’m glad the colonies left.”

“Maybe they’ll keep walking,” Daeron says hopefully. One of the men stops and points at the bowling alley, saying something to his companions. They laugh and begin crossing the small parking lot. They are less than two minutes from the door. “Oh, great…”

“There’s an emergency exit in the back,” Baela says.

Aegon snorts. “Yeah, that we stacked about twenty boxes of bowling pins in front of to zombie-proof.”

“We won’t be able to get out before they hear us,” Aemond says. Then he abruptly orders: “Grab your guns, let’s go. Helaena, Baela, Rhaena, you’re staying here.” Aemond’s remaining eye—briefly, reluctantly—skates over you as Rio, Aegon, Jace, Luke, and Daeron scatter to obey him. “You too.”

“But I’m the best shot.”

“I don’t want them to know we have women with us.”

“I’m of more use to you outside.”

Aemond rips his Glock out of its holster, pointing it at the floor. His frustration is palpable, an electric shock, heat that refracts light rays until they become mirages on the horizon. “You’re going to stay here, and if a stranger comes through those doors you’re going to kill them. Okay?”

His urgency stuns you; his eye is blue-white summer storm lightning. “Okay.”

“Now get back.”

You soar to the nearest table, duck under it, reach for your Beretta M9 and double-check the clip, fully loaded. You click off the safety.

“Aemond, wait, let me go first,” Aegon is saying by the door. “I’m better at de-escalation, I’m less…uh…intimidating.”

“Less socially incompetent, you mean,” Jace quips.

“I’ll lead,” Aemond insists. “Aegon can talk. Rio, you’re up front with me.”

Rio pumps his Remington 12 gauge. “I’d be delighted.”

Jace is amused. “I’ve been demoted, huh?”

“He’s bigger,” Aemond replies simply, then opens the door and vanishes through a blinding curtain of daylight. The others follow closely; Daeron, the last one out—his compound bow in hand, the strap of his Marlin .22 slung over his shoulder—shuts the door behind him.

Very faintly, you can hear Aegon: “Hey, guys! What’s happening? How’s the apocalypse treating you…?”

Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena are under the table with you. They deserve to have options. You tell them: “If you want to go hide behind the lanes or try to get out the back door, now’s your chance.”

Helaena shakes her head, clutching your t-shirt: black, Star Wars, pawed off a shelf at the Walmart. “I want to stay with you.”

“Same,” Baela says determinedly, gripping her Ruger. She barely knows how to use it, but she’ll try. Rhaena is shaking, her eyes filling up her face, small fragile bones like a bird’s.

You can’t hear voices from outside anymore, but there are no gunshots either. You keep your M9 aimed at the doors, your breathing slow and deep, your heart rate low. Your hands are steady. Your eyes hunt for the slightest movement, for the momentary shadow of someone passing by a window. Against your will, your thoughts wander to Aemond. I hope Aegon is on his left side. Aemond can’t see there.

“Rhaena, get your gun out,” Baela says sharply. “Come on. Turn the safety off. What if you were alone right now? What if we weren’t here to protect you?”

Rhaena nods, fumbling to free her revolver from its holster. “I’m sorry…I’m trying…”

Now there is a stranger’s voice, gruff and deep. He must be just beyond the door, the farthest one to the right. There is a creak of hinges, a sliver of sunlight. “That’s just too damn bad, fellas. You got a nice little hideout here, and you’re gonna have to share it—”

The door opens. Two unfamiliar faces, too shellshocked to raise their rifles in time. You close an eye, line up your sights, fire twice, and that’s all it takes: one headshot, one in the throat, blood like a fountain, spurting scarlet ruin, thuds against the carpet strewn with neon stars, gurgling and spasms as their brains send out those final electrical impulses: danger, catastrophe, apocalypse. Rhaena is screaming. Helaena is covering her ears with both hands.

You run to the doorway; there are more booms of gunfire out in the parking lot. You cross into the late-morning light to see the other two men on the pavement: one with an arrow through the eye, the other with a gaping, hemorrhaging hole where his heart once was. Rio is admiring his work, holding his shotgun aloft. He scoops a handful of Cheddar Whales out of his shorts pocket and shovels them into his mouth.

“Goddamn, I love Remington Arms Company.”

“Oh, that was awesome,” Aegon says, wan and panting, hands on his waist. “Yeah, that was…that was…” He bends over and vomits Snapple and Cool Ranch Doritos onto the asphalt.

“Everyone okay in there?” Rio asks you.

“Yeah.” Behind you, Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena are stepping through the doorway. Your thoughts are whirling sickly: I killed someone. I killed someone. “They wouldn’t leave?”

“We told them the bowling alley was ours,” Aemond says, not looking at you. “We asked them very politely to keep moving. They chose to try to intimidate us into letting them stay. They weren’t good people, and these are the consequences.”

You click on the safety and re-holster your M9. You’re wearing Rio’s on your other hip. They seem to weigh so much more than they did ten minutes ago. I’m not supposed to be a killer. I’m a builder.

“Aegon, are you okay?” Daeron asks, a palm on his brother’s back.

Aegon retches again. “Shut up. You can’t even buy fireworks.”

“Zombies.” Luke is peering through his binoculars. “Not many, just two. Way up the road.”

“There will be more.” Baela’s cradling her belly; you don’t even think she’s aware of it. “They heard the gunshots, the sound carries for miles.”

“We’re leaving,” Aemond says. “Right now. Everyone get your things.”

As backpacks are hastily zipped and Daeron and Aegon stand guard in the parking lot, you kneel down beside the men you murdered and check their rifles. They are M16s, either stolen or illegally purchased: there’s a little switch by the trigger to choose between semi-automatic or the so-called machine gun mode.

“They barely had any bullets left,” you tell Rio. Just like us when we were trapped on that transmission tower.

“Yeah, same story for the other two guys. Four bullets in one magazine, a half dozen in the other. But it only takes once. We don’t have any ammo that will work with M16s, do we?”

“No, we definitely don’t.”

“Fantastic. Well, we’ll throw them in a Walmart cart and take them with us just in case.”

You’re staring down at the man you shot through the head. His eternal resting place is a puddle of blood and brains in a bowling alley in rural Ohio; surely no one deserves that. “He was a real person,” you say, dazed. “Not a zombie. Just a person.”

“Hey.” Rio grabs your shoulders and spins you towards him. From where he is helping Luke gather up the remaining food, Aemond’s head snaps up to watch. “You hurt him before he could hurt us. You did the right thing.”

“Sure.”

“I killed a dude too. I blew his heart right out of his chest. You think I’m going to hell for that?”

“No,” you admit, smiling. “And if you’d be there with me, I guess I wouldn’t mind so much.”

Rio grins, wide and toothy. “Well alright then. Let’s finish packing.”

The ten of you depart from Shenandoah, Ohio heading northwest on Route 603 just like Aegon marked on his map, Jace chauffeuring Baela in one shopping cart, Rio pushing another loaded high with food and M16s.

“It looks like rain,” Helaena says.

Everyone else peers up into a clear, cerulean sky, wondering what she means.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re a few miles north of Shiloh when the storm rolls in, cold rain and furious wind, daylight that vanishes behind dark churning thunderheads, jagged scars of lightning in an opaque sky. The road is only two lanes, surrounded by fields of wildflowers and ravaged crops and untilled earth; it would look like the patchwork of a quilt if you were gazing down from an airplane, but of course the FAA grounded all flights over a month ago when the world went mad: Revelations, Ragnarök, the fabric of the universe unweaving as death burned through families, cities, nations like a fever, like plague.

“Maybe we should cut across one of these fields,” Jace says, pointing. He is soaked with rain; it drips from his curls, runs into his eyes. Baela is in her cart again; each time she tries to get out and walk, she’s gasping and can’t keep up within half an hour. You’ve all taken turns pushing her, much to Baela’s dismay. She’d be humiliated if she wasn’t too exhausted to keep her eyes open.

“Here, let me do it,” you offer, and Jace gratefully relinquishes the cart. Baela gives you a frail wave of appreciation.

“We stay on the road,” Aemond insists, flinching as rain pelts his scarred face. “Farmhouses have driveways and mailboxes, we’ll pass one eventually. If we lose the road, we might not be able to find it again. We’ll end up wandering around in circles in the woods.”

“Just like the Blair Witch Project,” Aegon says glumly, his Sperry Bahama sneakers audibly soggy.

“There!” Luke announces, spotting something with his binoculars. “Up ahead on the left. Past the bridge.”

You can’t see what Luke does until there is an especially brilliant flash of lightning: a farmhouse, old but seemingly not derelict, and with a number of accompanying buildings, guest houses and stables and barns and towering silos.

“Home sweet home!” Rio says. “And I don’t care if I have to kill a hundred of those undead bastards to get in, it’s mine.”

“Well, hopefully not a hundred,” you reply, in better spirits now that a sanctuary has been found. Aemond keeps glancing back at you as you push Baela’s cart. If he wants to say something, he’s doing a good job of resisting the temptation. “We don’t have that much ammo.”

There is a concrete bridge over a river, probably unremarkable and only five or ten feet deep normally but now torrential with rain. Water rushes by beneath, a muddy incline on each side as the earth rises back up to meet the road. A reflective green sign proclaims that you are only two miles from Plymouth, which Aegon plans to skirt along the edges of. It’s a decent-sized town; he thinks you might be able to find a car to steal there, something with gas in the tank and keys on a hook just inside the house.

“I call the master bedroom,” Jace says craftily, rubbing his palms together. You’re near the center of the bridge now, another ten yards to go. “Nice big bed, warm cozy blankets, and I was up for half of last night keeping watch so tonight I am off duty, I am a free man, it’s going to just be me and my girl and eight glorious uninterrupted hours of sleep—”

Rhaena shrieks, and then you hear it over the noise of the storm, pounding rain and rumbling thunder: moans, growls, hisses like snakes. Not one zombie. A lot more than one. They’re crawling up from under the bridge, from the filthy quagmire at both ends. There was a hoard of them waiting, aimless, dormant, almost hibernating. But now they are awake. They are grasping for you with bony, dirt-covered claws. They are snapping with jaws that leak blood and pus and bile as their organs curdle to a putrid soup.

“Get off the bridge!” Aemond is shouting. He has his Glock in his right hand, a baseball bat in his left. He’ll shoot until he’s out of bullets, and then, and then…

Rio helps you get Baela out of the cart, then opens fire. His Remington doesn’t just pierce skulls, it vaporizes them. When he’s out of shells—there are more in his backpack, but no time to reload—he yanks the M16s out of the other Walmart cart and empties each of them, mowing down zombies as the rest of you scramble across the bridge. All around you are explosions of gunshots, thunder, lightning, zombie skulls crushed by bullets and blunt force trauma. Baela is firing her Ruger as you half-drag her, one arm hooked beneath hers and around her back. When the last M16 is empty, Rio starts clubbing zombies with the butt of it. You’ve all reached the north side of the bridge, except…

“Fuck off, you freaks!” Jace is screaming. They’ve backed him up against the guardrail, a swarm of ten or more. His Remington shotgun is out of ammo; he’s swinging it wildly, but he doesn’t even have enough room to maneuver. There are still more zombies emerging from under the bridge. You can hear them snarling and groaning. You swipe an M9 off your belt and put a bullet in the brain of a zombie as its fingers close around your ankle, then you start picking off the ones mobbing Jace. You aren’t fast enough. As they lean in to bite him, teeth gnashing at the delicious throbbing heat of his jugular, Jace throws himself over the barrier and into the surging water below.

“No!” Baela cries. She careens off the road and into the field, running parallel to the river as swiftly as she can. You are helping her, steadying her, firing at any zombies you have a clear line of sight on. The others are here too: slipping in the muck of the flooding earth, shouting for Jace. He surfaces through the frothing current, flails pitifully, disappears beneath the water again. You glimpse a white hand, a shadow of his dark hair, a kicking shoe. There are more zombies on the opposite side of the river, trailing after Jace, lurching and slobbering viscous, gory saliva. They cannot swim, but they can follow him until he washes ashore.

Jace bursts up through the waves, gasping. “Help! Aemond…Aemond, for the love of God, help me…” He blubbers and then is dragged under. Aemond and Luke are continuing frantically after him. Baela is hysterical, sobbing, trembling with adrenaline. Aegon is yowling as he swings at zombies with his bloodied golf club. Helaena is darting around almost invisibly, always cowering behind Daeron or Aegon or Rio.

You glance north towards the farmhouse, growing not closer but farther away. We can’t leave shelter. We can’t leave the road. You lock eyes with Rio. He’s thinking the same thing.

“Aemond, we have to go,” Rio says, but in the midst of the rain and the turmoil it barely registers.

“Jace, we’re coming to get you!” Aemond swears. The ground is increasingly sodden, deep, difficult to trudge through. Jace resurfaces, coughing and sputtering.

“Jace!” Aegon wails. He caves in the skull of a zombie who was once a registered nurse as Helaena crouches behind him. “Jace, I’m sorry! I’m gonna miss you, man!”

Jace splashes in the rising river, his arms flailing helplessly. He is being swept away far faster than any of you can move on foot. “Aegon, you dumb bitch!” Jace manages, then slips beneath the water and doesn’t reappear.

“Where is he?!” Baela is saying. “Aemond, where…?”

You are trying to soothe her, to bring her back to reality. She was always so pragmatic before; you have to wake her up. “Baela, listen, we can’t stay here, he would want you and the baby to be safe—”

“Aemond! Aemond, we have to go!” Rio catches him, wrenches him around, roars into his face as driving rain pummels them both: “We have to go, or we’re going to die here too!”

It hits Aemond all at once; he understands, horror and agony in his sole blue eye. “We have to go,” he agrees. And then louder, to everyone: “Get to the farmhouse!”

Baela collapses into the mud, howling, tears flooding down her face. “No, he’s still alive, he’s still alive, we can’t leave him!”

You and Rhaena are trying to haul Baela to her feet. Now Aemond is here, pulling you away from her—his fingers tight and urgent around your wrist—as he and Luke take your place. “Go,” he commands. “You run. Don’t wait for us. Rio?”

“I got her,” Rio replies, grabbing your free hand with an iron grip. Gales of wind rip at you; every millimeter of your skin is soaked with rain. As you flee across the fields towards the farmhouse, dozens of zombies pursue you. More are still staggering along the banks of the river, swept up in the hoards chasing Jace and the promise of his waterlogged corpse when it reaches its final destination. Daeron has run out of arrows and is shooting with his .22, which is very much not his preference. Aegon trips, getting covered in mud as he rolls, and Rio stops to help him. While he is distracted, you look back at Aemond. He, Luke, and Baela are moving quickly, but not quickly enough. A drove of zombies is closing in on them. You have a spare few seconds at last. You yank your backpack off, grab a box of ammo inside, and reload your M9.

“Chips?!” Rio calls over his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

He knows you well enough to listen. The world goes quiet as your finger settles on the trigger. There’s a rhythm one slips into, an impassionate lethal efficiency. It’s easier to keep going than to stop and have to find it again. You fire over and over, dropping eight zombies. You sheath your M9 and whip Rio’s out of your other holster, the sights finding grotesque decaying faces illuminated by lightning. You pull the trigger: blood, bones, brains, corpses jerking and convulsing as they fall harmlessly to the mud. Aemond is here; when did he get here?

“I told you to run!” he’s shouting through the storm, furious. He’s shoving you towards the farmhouse. You resist him.

“Let me kill as many as I can—”

“Go! Now!” Aemond orders over the clashing thunder, and then sprints with you all the way to the front porch to make sure you listen. Everyone else is already there. Helaena has fetched a spare key from under the doormat and is turning it in the lock.

Daeron observes her anxiously. “We don’t know if it’s safe in there, Helaena.”

“Not in,” she says, insistent. “Through.” Through this building, and maybe through the next one too. The average zombie is not terribly clever. If they lose sight of you, without the benefit of the momentum of a hoard they are lost. Helaena opens the door. The living rush inside, and she locks it behind you. As you are bursting out the back door, you can hear zombies pounding their rotting palms against the front one. You soar through a stable full of dead horses and donkeys, leaving the doors open; this should keep the zombies distracted if they make it this far. Then you race to the farthest guest house. Luke, swiveling with his binoculars, spies no zombies approaching as you steal inside. There is no spare key this time; Rio punches out a first-floor window for you to climb through. Once everyone is inside, he and Aegon move a bookshelf to cover the opening.

You all stand in the living room, gasping and shivering, dripping rain down onto the rug and the hardwood floor. The air is dusty but clean of any trace of vile, swampy decay. Outside, thunder booms and lightning flashes bright enough to illuminate the lightless house. The sky is so dark it might as well be nightfall. Baela sinks to her knees, clamping both hands over her mouth so she won’t sob loudly enough for a zombie to hear. Rhaena and Luke are beside her, both weeping quiet rivulets of tears, trying to comfort her in whispers. Helaena is rummaging around searching for candles; she has already taken a lighter out of her soaked burlap messenger bag.

“Daeron, bro, come over here,” Aegon chokes out. He embraces Daeron, clutches him tightly and desperately, doesn’t let go. Rio is reloading his Remington 12 gauge.

Jace is dead. Jace is dead.

Aemond says to you, his voice low but seething: “What the fuck was that?”

You blink the raindrops out of your eyes as you stare at him, bewildered. “You needed help.”

“I told you to run.”

“I’m an asset, I have skills that can keep you alive, why am I here if I’m not going to be useful—?”

“You’re not in the fucking Navy anymore!” he hisses. “When I tell you to run, you run, you don’t stop, you don’t look back, because I can’t worry about you and take care of everyone else.”

“Nobody asked you to worry about me.”

“But I do.”

“Aemond,” Aegon pleads, waving him over. Aegon’s plump sunburned cheeks are glistening with rain and tears. “Man, it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters now. Please come here.”

“I’m going to clear the house,” Aemond says instead.

Rio raises an eyebrow at you—this is one fucked up guy, Chips—and then pumps his shotgun. “Me too.” He sweeps with Aemond through the main floor and then vanishes up the staircase.

Helaena is lightning candles she found in the kitchen and arranging them around the living room. Daeron starts gathering food from the pantry. Rhaena and Baela are murmuring to each other softly, mournfully. It doesn’t feel like something you should intrude on. Luke is peeking out of a window with his binoculars, vigilant for threats. Aegon sniffles, wanders over to you with large, sad, shimmering eyes, pats your shoulder awkwardly.

“Hey, Chocolate Chip. You doing okay?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

“Yeah. Me either.” Then he flops down on the hideous burnt orange couch and lies there motionless until Daeron brings him a can of Dr. Pepper. Aegon pops the tab, slurps up foam, and then begins singing to himself very quietly, a song so old you can remember your grandfather saying it was one of his favorites as a boy: A Tombstone Every Mile.

When Rio comes back downstairs—heavy footsteps, he can’t help that—you meet him at the bottom of the steps. “The house is good,” Rio says. “And Aemond’s in the big bedroom on the right if you’d like to go up there and talk to him.”

“I don’t think he wants to see me right now.”

“I could not disagree more,” Rio says with a miserable, exhausted smile. Then he goes to the couch to check on Aegon.

You pick up one of the flickering candles, white and scentless, and ascend the staircase. You find Aemond in the master bedroom, the same accommodations that Jace laid claim to when he was still alive. He is sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at the wall, at nothing. Tentatively, you sit down beside him, placing the candle on the nightstand.

“Aemond…what happened to Jace…it wasn’t your fault.”

“Criston said I was in charge, that’s the very last thing he told me. They might be the last words I ever hear from him, and I just…” His voice breaks; he wipes the rain and tears from his face with open palms. “I really wanted to get everyone home.”

“I’m so sorry about what I said at the bowling alley,” you confess, like it’s a dire secret. “I don’t want to fight with you, Aemond, I…I want to help you. I can see what you’ve done for everyone here, me and Rio included, and I believe in you. I want to be a part of this.”

He nods, an acceptance of peace, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Can we start over? I’ll never bring it up again, okay? I wasn’t trying to guilt you or upset you or anything. I should have just dropped it. I overreacted. And I understand why being with someone like me maybe wouldn’t be…super appealing.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what’s it about?”

Aemond wrings his hands, shakes his head, at last turns to you, golden candlelight reflected in his eye, his scar cloaked in shadows. His words are hushed, clandestine, soft powerless surrender. “I’m already so afraid of losing you.”

He cares, he hopes, he wants me too? “I’m here right now, Aemond. I don’t know what else I can say. I’d promise you more if I could.”

He reaches out to touch you, to ghost his thumb across your cheekbone, wet with rain. Then he kisses you, so gently you cannot help but imagine the wispy borders of calm white summer clouds, the rustle of leaves as wind blows down the Appalachian Mountains. You don’t have to ask him what he’s thinking, what it feels like. You can read it in the startled, firelit wonder on his face.

You taste like the beginning of something, here at the end of the world.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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cowboydisaster · 9 months

Note

Christmas countdown request:

Have you ever sat in a hot tub while it's snowing? It's a magical experience. Your top is chilly, your bottom half is so warm, and if you look directly up at the falling snow it looks like the stars are floating down around you.

Anyway, Arthur should take reader skinny dipping in a hot spring and it starts snowing and they get to enjoy that magical moment while cuddling naked in the hot spring 😁

* ˚ ✦ Nightfall * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 1.9k a/n: OKAY-- i have experienced this and i LOVE it. I couldn't help myself from writing the smut, really. Smut in a hot spring is too good. I'm obsessed with this. warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, thigh riding, inexperienced reader, cowgirl

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: TWO days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

The breeze is cold against your bare skin, the snow soft against your feet.

“Are you sure this won't hurt?” You ask again, eyes flickering over towards Arthur. He chuckles as he unbuttons the bottom of his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the rocky ground.

“Yes, I'm sure.” He says, amused.

“Why did we have to wait ‘till nightfall?” You ask, teeth chattering, hand running up your bare arm, over the goosebumps that are appearing.

“You’ll see. C’mon, darlin, before ya catch a cold.” Arthur whispers, hand on the small of your back as he leads you across the flat rocks, towards an unknown destination.

He’d wanted to surprise you, had planned this little trip weeks ago. Your horses eye the landscape curiously, not daring to leave the forest and venture out onto the strange, warm rocks. A nervous smile rests on your lips, a slight anxiety resting in your stomach. Arthur doesn’t miss the shudder in your breathing, nor the beating of your heart in your ears. Wishing to quell your hesitation, Arthur reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently in his own.

“You trust me?” He whispers, green eyes searching yours, and you nod. Hand in hand, you both venture across the rock. Arthur smiles for the way you marvel at their heat. The snow melts away from them, and small bubbling puddles of water rest at your feet. You raise an eyebrow, never having seen anything like it.

“Where are we?” You ask, looking down, seeing more water, ponds and pools of it, hot and steaming. The warm pools are crystal blue, and seem to glow in the pitch black of night.

“Cotorra Springs.” Arthur smiles.

Your eyes go wide, taking in the beauty and the wonder of the hot springs. Arthur leads you towards a particularly large one, and you study it. The way the water steams, warmed by some forces in the earth, the way the moon reflects in the strangely clear waters, the halo of light that shines out from the circle in the earth.

Arthur watches your curiosity with loving eyes. He knows that you were very sheltered, and he’s trying to show you as much of the world’s beauty as he can. The wonders of nature are something that he often takes for granted, but not you. Every flower you come across, every landscape and every animal you meet is met with deep wonder and appreciation. Seeing the way you study, how your eyes light up at something new is… enchanting for him..

“Is it magical?” You whisper, your eyes filled with stars reflected from the water. You lean down, running your fingers through the spring, pulling away quickly at the warmth. You look to Arthur for reassurance, relaxing when you see him stepping down into the water.

“Reckon it might just be.” He hums, extending a hand out to you. You take his calloused hand, letting him help you. Your toe meets the water first, and you pull it back, hesitating.

“S’alright, sweetheart. I gotcha.” Arthur whispers, and trusting him wholly, you step in.

The warm water envelops you, chasing away the chill that had been sinking into your bones. Arthur sits on the naturally carved ledge in the spring. You hesitate, but he nods– signaling that you’re okay– and you follow.

“Incredible, ain’t it?” Arthur whispers, head tilted back, looking up at the stars. The snowfall combined with the bright stars enrapture your attention, and you stare at the sky, wondering if it’s the snow falling onto your tongue, or the stars themselves.

“It’s beautiful.” You murmur, brushing your hair back with wet hands, extending them to the sky, catching snowflakes that promptly melt against the warmth of your skin.

Arthur is sure that in all the things he’s seen, all the places he’s gone, he’s never seen anything as beautiful as you. Your wet hair falls in tangled waves down your back, your smile is brighter than the stars above as you try and catch the ones that sprinkle down to you. The wonder in your eyes. That wild streak in your heart. Arthur could draw you day and night in his journal, and never truly capture your glow, or the way your smile brightens a room, the way your laughter heals broken hearts.

Sometimes he wonders how you do it. How does someone with so much pain– so much trauma– stay so optimistic? So grateful for life and for people? In all that Arthur endured, all it ever made him was an angry fool. But you. You’re a phoenix.

Arthur’s hands grip onto your waist, pulling you into his lap, your legs sitting across his own as he holds you wedding-style in his arms.

“How’d I ever get so damn lucky?” Arthur whispers to you, green eyes laden with emotion.

Your smile picks up all the cracked pieces of his heart, the liquid gold pouring out from your soul glues it back together.

“Karma.” You answer quickly, “Because good things happen to good people, Arthur.”

Your legs are toasty warm in the water, but your chest and shoulders shiver lightly in the cold breeze. You cuddle closer to Arthur to make up warmth, laying against his chest.

“I ain’t a good m-”

“Shh.” You say into his ear, lips remaining there for a moment, pressing a slow kiss to his cheek.

“You are a good man.” You whisper, turning in Arthur’s arms to face him, straddling him, “and…” You press a soft-as-silk kiss to his neck, “I love you for it.”

His breaths grow a little quicker at the contact, and suddenly you become all too aware of the position you’re in.

“Too good to me.” Arthur whispers in between open mouthed kisses to your neck. His hands find your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh, gripping you tightly.

You whimper, breath shuddering as he pulls your hips down, grinding your core against his leg.

“Arthur we’re–” You take a breath, “What if someone comes along?”

“No one will come along, darlin.” Arthur reassures, thumbs trailing up your torso, pressing circles against your firm, sensitive nipples.

Despite your sheltered childhood, you struggle none with this. When you were eager, Arthur had shown you– again and again– what you could do to make yourself feel good, to what you could do make him feel good.

“Keep talkin’ to me, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Arthur’s voice is like velvet against your ear, his lips locking on to your lips, your jaw, your collarbone. One of his fingers continues massaging your swollen, pink nipple, and the other travels lower, teasing your thigh, stroking your hip.

“Please, Arthur.” You whisper, hips rocking gently, waiting for friction.

“Jus’ wanna touch you, sweetheart.” Arthur groans, pulling your hips down against his leg, helping you to rock them, to fuck yourself against his thigh, your warm bodies still half submerged in the spring. The temperature does something for you all on its own. Your breasts are exposed to the cold, only warmed by Arthur’s touch, but your lower half is heating all on its own, and combined with the hot water, it's almost overstimulating.

“Just like that-” You gasp, head tossing back, hair dipping back into the glowing water. Snowflakes flutter about, landing in your hair, on your face, and your breasts, scattered white specks that Arthur picks up with his trail of kisses. Your hips keep their steady pace, and Arthur continues teasing you, featherlight fingertips trailing down your legs, ghosting over the backs of your knees.

“Easy, sweetheart.” Arthur’s voice reaches your ears in a strained huff.

He wants to pull you down onto his throbbing cock, to roll his hips up into you, watch you rock yourself, fuck yourself on his length. He wants to watch those beautiful eyes roll back into your head over and over, wants to hear his name coming from those pretty, plump lips. He wants to mark you, kiss you, make you his. He’s not sure if at heart he's a good man. However, he is sure that you make him a very bad one. His cock is straining against his stomach, and every rock of your hips is rubbing against him, and jesus, he can’t take it much longer.

It’s selfish, purely selfish as he dips his hands below the water, pulling you up. Your face wrinkles in pleasure when he slides you down onto his cock, and the gesture nearly sends him to heaven. Your soft skin goes tense, muscles tightening, cunt gripping him, pulling groans from his cracked lips.

The glow of the water shines impossibly brighter, illuminating you. Your face is flushed, your breasts bouncing with every one of your rocks.

“Oh–” You moan, hands gripping onto his sturdy shoulders, “Arthur!”

“Tell me what’cha need, darlin.” Arthur grunts, squeezing your ass in his hands.

You reach for his wrist, grabbing it tightly, and shoving it down between your bodies. Arthur smirks against your skin as he nips at your earlobe, sending waves of pleasure through all the pressure points in your body. His thumb makes a steady pace on your clit, and when you toss your head back in pleasure, snowflakes spot your eyelashes.

“Feel good? Gonna cum for me?” Arthur groans, cock twitching inside you, pushing up into you. You press your chest to Arthur’s, the added stimulation of your nipples against him creating an influx of sensations.

“Good… Good, there you go.” Arthur praises, feeling the stutter of your hips, noticing the whine of your voice.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” Arthur kisses your neck, and your stomach clenches down on him, “C’mon, baby. Cum for me.”

Your hips stutter, voice growing louder, strained as you rock against him. Arthur curses as your walls tighten around him, squeezing out every bit of self control that he’s clinging on to. Your orgasm works through you slowly, building and building, like a dam cracking before it bursts.

“There, there, just–” Arthur groans, “Jus’ like that, darlin’. Doin’ so good. I’m– nearly there wit’ ya–”

You shudder and gasp, fire erupting in your abdomen, spreading over your limbs. A few unrhythmic, upward thrusts and Arthur is there with you. His hips grind up slowly, pumping his cum into you, filling you full as he groans, hands tearing into your hips with their force. He thrusts again, slow, breathing deeply as you both come down.

“That–” You shiver, sweat clinging to you, cold from the temperature.

“I know.” Arthur finishes for you, pulling your body against his chest, keeping you mostly in the water for warmth. His arms wrap around you, fingertips trailing slowly up and down your spine as tingles spread through your limbs, little waves of aftershock hitting you now and again.

Arthur doesn’t pull out, just keeps you in his lap, holding you, kissing your head, praising you.

The falling snow lands in your hair, and as Arthur looks up at the vast expanse of stars, he's sure you’re one of them. An angel, come down as a star. Something divine, surely.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445 (send an ask to be added/removed!)

#divider by cafekitsune #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan smut

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yan-lorkai · 10 months

Note

*vibrating in excitement for platonic yanderes*

Ok, so I haven't watched black butler in years, imma re-watch it soon tho, so if none of this makes sense it's cause my memories shit and you can just ignore this lol

Anyway, here's my idea/request, Obv platonic yandere Ciel with a young reaper reader (14-16)? Like maybe they meet through Grell who mentors the lil reaper. Or maybe like a young ghost reader, he meets during an investigation or smth.

Your free to pick which one obv, anyway. I hope you are having a wonderful day luv, make sure to eat and stay hydrated!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Lemon, I made you wait a little but I finally finished this request hehe, despite having changed it a little and distorted some historical facts. Funfact: Ouija boards were created in 1891, but for the sake of this fic let's all ignore that Ciel was born in 1875; btw yesterday was his birthday. Congratulations Ciel <33. Also, many people have a hc that his real name has something to do with stars, hence the nickname present in the fic. Having said all that, I hope you enjoy Lemon, I loved writing this! Happy reading everyone!!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, spoiler about Ciel's brother in case nobody knows about it, ouija board and some typos probably!

Ciel likes to watch the sky. He likes to watch how the clouds race to overtake each other, he likes to watch the sun dancing alone in its place, twirling its colorful skirt of orange, yellow and pink during the hours that pass until finally the moon takes its place.

Quiet moments like this now, where he just sits in his armchair, his work all done and Sebastian far away, is when he can think about the things he's lost. But also the ones he won. If Sebastian had any knowledge about such thoughts, Ciel would certainly be subjected to his jokes and mockery.

The demon, while bound by the contract, could still make fun of his little master and he knew exactly how to embarrass the young lord. But Sebastian didn't need to know how the boy thinks about his twin brother, his parents, the employees and his childhood friend, Y/n; If they were alive now they would be maybe thirteen or fourteen, just like him and his brother. It was a fateful day, indeed.

The murder, the cult, Ciel hates remembering it, but he doesn't know how to let it all go. He's a child and there's no one he can ask for help - even if there was, perhaps his pride wouldn't allow it. He didn't ask for help when he was kidnapped, he didn't ask for help when he went through countless assassination attempts, nor did he ask for help with difficult tasks that the queen assigned him. He was the Phantomhive heir, the family's leader, he couldn't just simply ask for help.

The count narrows his blue eyes at the brooding darkness that has settled in his office, counting how many grains of sand fall into the hourglass and how long he has left in peace before Sebastian shows up to annoy him.

Maybe fifteen minutes.

With enough time for the boy to put his small plan into action, he pulled a wooden board from one of the drawers and placed it on the table. Ciel, by and large, was not superstitious, but recent events had left him puzzled. Moreover, he had a demon as his butler, a boy with super strength as his gardener, a sniper as his maid, and a soldier as his cook. In any case, he had even encountered death gods.

Therefore, if he suspected that the presence lingering over his shoulders while he worked or the entity hiding his items and making them appear in different places was something to be investigated, then he would investigate until his doubts were cleared. The giggles and whispers were becoming unsettling. Of course, he heard voices, but they were the voices of occultists, screams and cries from when they died at the hands of Sebastian.

But this particular voice was incredibly irritating and almost familiar.

Ciel scanned the wooden surface, wondering if he was a fool for buying it. The boy was almost certain that Sebastian knew about the board, but he decided not to comment; the butler had been rather distant since they returned from London that morning. Ciel didn't mind, quickly reading the rules and holding the pointer in his hands, trying to see something through it.

There was nothing… yet.

Ciel laid the pointer on the board and sighed, placing his fingers on it, ready to start. He hadn't said anything yet, but an aura already seemed to completely envelop his office. Or maybe he was anxious; he couldn't tell.

"Is there anyone there?" Ciel murmured, his firm voice echoing in the silent room.

For several moments, nothing happened. He really didn't expect anything to happen, judging this whole thing as something foolish that only became popular because of the horror stories that circulated in cities. He stared at the board intently, each letter in cursive, every mystical symbol adorning it, waiting for a response that would satisfy him. Impatiently, he repeated the question once more.

"Is there anyone there?" He looked at the pointer and then around. "If there is, give me a sign."

This time, the pointer began to move slowly across the board as if the entity on the other side was drowsy, gliding from one letter to another with a calmness that Ciel himself didn't possess. Ciel watched with intensity, his expression impassive. But inside, a strange feeling took hold of him.

It was real, after all. As real as shinigamis or Sebastian. He stifled another sigh in his throat.

"Who is there?" He asked, the words leaving his lips with determination.

Who behind the veil was tormenting him, holding on to him tightly so as not to be pulled into the forgetfulness of eternal sleep. He put more force on the pointer as if everything depended on the answer he would receive.

The letters came together to form words, and Ciel remained focused, but a hint of skepticism was present in his gaze when the words spelled out a name. Your first and last name.

"Y/N?" He wondered aloud.

Ciel may have lost a lot, but he also gained a lot. He gained another family, gained new friends allies, gained a new chance.

And yet… He hadn't gained you back. Or had he?

For a second, he let the pointer rest on the board, feeling a heavy sensation settle in his chest as he thought about the days when you used to stay by his side when he was bedridden with asthma, telling him your silly stories and jokes, all while holding his hand and looking tenderly at him. You were his best friend. And he missed you a lot.

And now you were here. You were here.

He placed his finger on the pointer again, still feeling doubtful if it was really you or some other spirit. Confidently, he asked something that only you knew. "What was the nickname that only you called me, and why?"

The nickname you used for him when it was just the two of you. Not for his brother, not for Ciel. If it was really you there, you would notice the small differences, as you did when you were alive.

The pointer moved, taking with each movement a beat of the young earl's heart. One by one, the letters formed a nickname forgotten by time and bitter memories of the only Phantomhive still wandering through this tedious world.

"Pleiades, that's what I used to call you." There was a pause, and Ciel felt his entire body trembling with the confirmation that yes, it was you on the other side. He straightened up in his chair, trying to show that he was calm — little did he know that you could perceive how surprised he was.

And you would tease him about it later.

"Just like your hair, they are blue, an optical phenomenon caused by the dispersion of light in the Earth's atmosphere." You explained, nodding as if he could see you. Ciel rolled his eyes but almost unconsciously smiled.

"I see you remain a know-it-all." He teased.

And you stuck your tongue out at him, moving your arms to make the chair he was sitting in slide backward. Ciel's cheeks immediately turned pink as a little yelp escaped his lips. He hadn't expected you to have more tricks up your sleeve, but soon he regained his composure and cleared his throat, watching you move the pointer.

"One of us has to be clever," You chuckled. "Obviously, I'm the smart friend."

Ciel let out a long sigh. "Your knowledge is all random, though."

You shrugged. What importance did any kind of knowledge have now that you were dead? You said nothing for a few minutes, running your fingers over the wood of the board and the supposedly mystical symbols. Being dead was boring, different for everyone, and you weren't even sure how your soul managed to escape the shinigamis for so long.

But you had one certainty; you were stuck in this world for some reason still. In many stories, there would be an unfulfilled desire or a want, and you had several, but you had made peace with the fact that you could no longer fulfill them. So what was still keeping you there?

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Ciel nodded, gesturing with his hand for you to continue.

"Can you free me? Can you invite me out?"

Ciel had already broken some rules, especially the one that said he couldn't play alone and that the player should have a form of spiritual protection, whatever they had faith in — a crucifix, a talisman, anything. Ciel, however, had a mark on his eye, so you assumed that nullified this rule. Did that thing serve as a protective mark, though?

The boy remained silent for some time, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of taking such action. To bind a spirit to himself, to the world of the living, when he knew he should let you rest in peace, when he knew such agreements were dangerous.

But he was still the selfish earl who liked to monopolize your time; he was still that same sickly boy who needed a friend. And no one else could be his friend but you. Only you understood him, after all.

He nodded.

It was foolishness, but not even Sebastian could have stopped him. He pressed the pointer harder, desperate for it to work, but of course, it would work if you were already in front of him, the dead proof that there could be life in death.

"I invite you, Y/n, to leave this board."

A warm feeling flooded your chest, as if your skin were kissed by the sun again after so long. You savored it for a moment, smiling, feeling strangely more alive than before, and withdrew your hand from the pointer.

"Can you see me?" You asked, your voice hoarse from not speaking for months.

But Ciel didn't seem to understand, not yet at least. So you touched his cheek as you did when congratulating him on a chess victory, and he felt it, his eyes widening as he assimilated the situation. You figured that now that you touched him, he could hear you, so you asked the question again.

And slowly, he nodded. You could only imagine what he thought of your bloodstained shirt and disheveled appearance, so different from the one you once proudly preserved. Times change, and so do you, and you were like this now, a lost ghost that not even death seemed to want.

You smiled, squeezing both of his cheeks and watching him shudder. It was good to see him, good to be back, even if nothing would be the same. Nothing could ever be the same again, but being able to touch him again after so long, you didn't hesitate to hug him.

You were together again.

#yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere black butler #yandere ciel phantomhive #yandere ciel #ciel x reader #ciel phantomhive x reader #yandere ciel x reader #yandere ciel phantomhive x reader #platonic yandere #mutuals requests

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lesservillain · 3 months

Text

eddie munson x reader cw: smut, established relationship, mental deterioration, death, the afterlife, advanced technology a/n: based off of the black mirror episode titled san junipero. thank you @ali-r3n for reminding me to reupload this. 3.8k words

You’d been watching him all night. Dark curls bouncing every time he laughs, hands squeezing around the neck of his beer bottle. He was making friends with a group of similarly dressed individuals, other metal heads of the 80s clad in leather and worn band tees. They weren’t hard to find in a place like this. Some of them may have even made a name for themselves once. But, in this town, things like fame didn’t matter much.

Eyes like melted chocolate meet yours, a devious smirk forming on his lips. A wink. Acknowledgement of the game the two of you were playing tonight. You watched as he called the bartender over, yelling something that you couldn’t hear over the loud bump of 80s pop music. The bartender nodded, and after a few moments of mixing was walking your way.

“From the guy at the end of the bar,” he said, sliding the drink to you. But you already knew, smiling to yourself as you sip your signature drink. It went down quickly after years of drinking it. The bitter alcohol taste didn’t bother you like in the past. You popped an ice cube in your mouth before jumping off the bar stool, looking back for just a moment to see him quickly down his drink, getting up to chase after you.

The end of your dress billowed lightly in the breeze, chilling your skin as you stepped out into the busy nightlife. The sun had set, and the sky once filled with blues and pinks was now a deep purple with stars mixed in. You could see the moon reflecting over the glassy waves of the ocean from the deck of the bar.

“Beautiful, isn't it,” you ask as he leans next to you, his back against the rails. The tendrils of his hair flutter with the salty air, reaching out to you where you stand. It’s tempting to take one and wrap it around your finger but you decide against it, just in case it may be too intimate for the facade you’re trying to keep up.

“Sure is,” he says, his eyes fixed on you, looking you up and down. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks under his gaze.

“You’re not even looking,” you shake your head. His teeth show this time when he smiles at you, leaning into your personal space to whisper in your ear.

“Wasn’t talking about the beach, sweetheart.”

If he was any other guy you wold have told him to fuck off by now. He knows that, too. Which is why he does all that he can to push your buttons as the two of you talk. Teasing and joking around, being his authentic self, putting you in laughing fits that bring you to tears.

And when he gets you in his bed, he’s making you moan his name. He tells you that the way you say his name is better than any chorus of devils that would have been waiting for him if the two of you hadn’t been here. Your bodies meld together like they belonged to the other in this weird fucked up place you’ve found yourselves in. His hips roll into yours, wet slapping of skin on skin filled the room, loud enough to rival the waves hitting the shore just outside your window.

“Eddie, please I’m so close,” you huff, on the precipice of another orgasm, your senses heightened by the air of this place. His hand slides from your hip to your bud, moving in calculated circles from the years of working your body how you liked it. Your hand in his hair tugs at the base of his neck, fingers tangling in his curls as your body goes stiff. White hot heat washes over you and the stars in your eyes are so bright they blind you for a moment. For a second you panic, having to remind yourself where you are as his face becomes clear again.

His features are contorted as he finishes inside you. Brows pinched and nostrils flaring as he breaths through it. You’re suddenly reminded of the first time you two had spent together like this. In the back of his old beater van at Lover’s Lake. His face looked just like this, it was crazy to see it again. You wondered if this place gave him the same nostalgia.

The two of you settle in post orgasmic bliss, bodies tangled in each other despite the sticky sweat on each other's skin. You wished it didn’t have to end. For him it didn’t, not anymore anyway. He could stay like this all the time, but you…

The sound of the clock beeping brought tears to your eyes. It was the worst sound in the world. His grip on you tightened as he shushed in your ear.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back.”

“You promise?" You choke out, feeling less and less of his touch as you start to fade.

“I always am, aren't I?”

This was your favorite look of his. Sure, you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel back when you first met, but this decade was some of the best years of your life with him.

“I don’t get it,” he says as he swings your hands together. The two of you walk along the city streets. Music you haven’t heard in nearly 4 decades can be heard playing in every building you pass. “This is when I started getting grey hairs. You sure you don’t want to-”

“No, Eddie,” you laugh, “I told you that I like the seasoned rock star version of you. Sure, you were plenty cute back when we were young-young, but this you?” You tuck a curl behind his ear, kissing his cheek where it sat. “This is the sexy dad version of you that I love. Good thing you got that vasectomy because we probably would have had way more kids back then.”

His laugh is like an old song to your ears that gets harder and harder to remember. You wish you could capture the sound in a bottle to keep with you when the two of you aren’t together. His ring clad hand squeezes yours, bringing it his lips to skin there.

“How are they? Any updates you can think of?” The way he phrases it doesn’t get past you, but for the sake of argument you let it go.

“Leah and David are going to be grandparents again. A…little girl this time, I think,” you try and wrack your brain for the information. “Bella is due in, um, December. Right, yeah, because it’s close to Christmas.”

“That’s awesome! Bella was a peach when she was little, so I’m sure Leah and Connor were excited when they found out Bella was having a girl after three boys.”

“Three boys?” You look at him confused.

“Yeah, remember? Liam, Markus, and Jay. And this baby will be their first girl.”

“Oh, yeah, I knew that” you say quickly.

“Sweetheart,” he sing-songs to you. You wipe your eyes on the strap of your dress before looking at him.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? I only know these things because you tell me. I wish I could be there to see them.” His voice trails off, a somber look in his eyes that he tries to disguise with a weak smile. “Have they, um, changed their minds about…”

You shake your head. You didn’t blame them for not wanting to come here. The only reason you were even here is because of him. As real as they try to make this place, it still feels like living in a film or a music video. Eddie says it feels more authentic for him now. Maybe you’ll feel that way one day.

“Oh fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!”

Your thighs shake as Eddie’s tongue does wonders between them. He’d been edging you since you woke up, pushing you almost past your limit just to pull away.

“I don’t know baby,” he says mere inches from your mound, “Do you still have doubts about me? Wouldn’t want to do all of this just for you to think I’m trying to fool you.”

“No, no, you’re real, fuck, you’re so real,” you say as you grip his hair, desperately trying to ride against his face as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Damn right I am,” his fingers pick up their pace as they curl into that sweet spot in your walls. “They can’t fake the way I know you inside out. Know exactly how much you can take, how you like the way I…”

His tongue moves meticulously on your clit, the combination with his fingers finally pushing you over the edge as your eyes squeeze shut, moaning his name. He slows his movements, letting you come down from your high before pulling away.

Your eyes blink open, shifting down from the ceiling to where Eddie was between your legs. Except it wasn’t Eddie whose eyes were looking back at you. You shift up in the bed, pulling the covers over yourself as you scream, “Eddie? Eddie!”

The man jumps up, confused. “Baby, what's wrong? I’m right here.” Your eyes don’t leave him, terrified of what will happen if you look away.

“W-what? Where’s Eddie? Who the hell are you?”

He moves towards you, causing you to flinch. But when you open your eyes again Eddie’s the one standing in front of you. His hands cup your face, shushing you to calm you down. He climbs in the bed with you, holding you close as you cry and whispering reassurances in your ear.

“He looks so real,” you shout to Eddie, eyeing the very real looking Kurt Cobain playing on the stage in front of you.

“Maybe it’s just because we’re so far back. He died way before they could have uploaded him here, so he’s gotta be a hologram or something,” Eddie shakes his head as he shouts back to you.

“Maybe they used people’s memories to make him?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer, offering it to you when he catches you looking at him. You wave him off, resting your head against his arm. A memory jumps to the front of your mind, like deja vu.

“Eddie,” he looks down at you, “We’ve seen them before, haven’t we?”

His face lights up, nodding excitedly. “Yeah, back in ‘93! You remember that?”

“Kind of. It feels like we’ve done this before,” you bite at your lower lip, a nervous habit you’d picked up in your life.

“Well, we’ve been to a lot of concerts. Do you remember standing on the side stage to watch them in Portland?”

“Side stage? Why would we have been on the side stage?”

He blinks at you wordlessly, dark eyes becoming misty as he looks into yours. You feel a guilt creep in. You should know the answer, but you don’t, and the feeling eats you up inside. What else have you forgotten? How many times has he asked you if you remember something, only to break his heart over and over again?

How much longer before you forgot his face?

“Grandma, please.”

“No, I don’t want to take those damn pills!”

You smack the man’s hand away, sending pills flying across the floor. A sharp pain shoots through your shoulder, causing you to cry out in pain.

“Grandma, those pills are to help with the pain. I promise I’m not giving you anything else.” The man before you looks familiar, his dark loose curls and deep brown eyes that feel safe are the only reason you even let him in your house, even if he insists that he lives there.

“Well, damnit, if you had said they were for pain I would have taken them,” you say through gritted teeth. Eddie sighs, placing his ring clad hand on top of yours. It doesn’t look like your hand. The skin looks too withered and bruised to be yours, but the feeling was there. “Eddie, can you bring me something to drink?”

“My name is-” Eddie looks at you for a moment. Defeated, he sighs, “Yes, grandma, I’ll be right back.”

The man comes back a few minutes later with a drink and helps you take a sip from the straw. “Do you want anything to eat?” He asks, hope in his eyes as you ponder for a moment, only to be dashed away when you refuse.

The man gets you cleaned up and ready for bed, and you only give him a little bit of shit as he does, your body too tired to fight tonight.

You watch as he fiddles with a little round device on your bedside table. You’re not sure what it does but you know in the back of your mind that it makes you happy when it’s working.

“Uncle Dustin called to check in on you today,” the man says as he presses a button, bouncing his head happily as it turns green. “I told him you said hi.”

“Why the hell would you tell your friend I said hi?” You grumble, feeling the sleep start to take over your body. You eyelids are heavy, the room going dark as you drift off.

“Goodnight, grandma.”

You wake a moment later to the feeling of Eddie’s hair tickling your nose. Slowly, you blink your eyes open, brown eyes staring down at you from where you lay on his chest. The soft up and down of his chest is missing, not that he needs to do that anymore, a sad reminder of what this place is for him..

“Awake so soon, sweetheart,” he asks, his hand rubbing up and down your arm. You nod, shifting your body so you can stretch out next to him. “You know I’m not going anywhere,” he sighs, eyes flicking between yours. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything.”

“I’m not,” you say with a smile hoping that it would be enough to put his mind at ease. He pulls you in for a kiss and holds you close to him. Even if this place isn’t your home, Eddie always makes you feel like you belong.

“Hey, Eddie,” you whisper into his neck, and you can feel him hum on the top of your head where his chin rests. “Who’s Dustin?”

It's still for a long moment. His lack of response has you worried. The heave of his chest has you pulling away, sitting up next to him in the bed. Tears roll down his cheeks and you quickly wipe them away with your thumbs.

“E-Eddie I’m sorry, I-I don’t know why I even asked.” It’s true. The name sits in your head but you don’t know why. It's a hollow thought, with no meaning.

“You really don’t remember?” His voice is strained. For some reason his question made you angry. Like he was calling you stupid for not remembering. Why does everyone get so upset when you can’t remember something?

“No,” you say sternly. “And I don’t want to remember!”

You throw the blankets off of you, getting out of the bed and storming out. The hem of your dress tickles your ankles as the breeze blows down the beach. The further you go the more you start to forget where you’re at.

Now you’re running, panicking with no one else around to help you. You trip, hands hitting the sand as you fall to your knees. You feel helpless, confused, wailing into the empty beach that you don’t remember coming to. You hear your name being called. A man with long, dark hair approaches you, attempting to put his arms around you.

“Don’t touch me!” You push him away, trying to get up on your own. “I don’t need your help, young man!”

The look on his face is nothing short of mortified. “No, no, this isn’t right,” he says, shaking his head, hands grabbing at his hair. “Please don’t forget me, please! Something isn't right!”

Suddenly your ears start ringing. The ringing gets louder and louder until bells and alarms swirl around you, and vision starts to spin. You try covering your ears but the sounds are coming from inside your own head. It feels like you’re screaming but you can’t hear. The man's hands are on you a moment later shaking you, and his mouth is moving but you can’t hear him either.

Your vision starts to go white and you feel your body becoming heavy. Everything feels cold, then nothing. The last thing you feel is the man’s lips on your forehead.

“I think this is the best chicken you’ve ever made. Swear on my life, sweetheart.”

“That’s not much to swear on, Eds.”

He gives you a knowing look from across the table, continuing to dig into the dinner you made for the two of you. He was right, it did taste almost as good as your own grandmother had made it when you were young, but that seemed to be how things are in San Junipero. Something you’re sure they built into the software when they made this place.

“Do you want to walk to that new ice cream place on the pier? I heard it’s amazing,” you ask as you grab your plate to place in the sink. “I bet they have that gross pistachio ice cream you like.”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it,” Eddie says with a mouth full of food, handing you his dirty dishes as you start to clean up.

“I did try it. Fifty years ago, remember?” You laugh as you clean the dishes, handing them back to him to dry. His smile reaches his eyes as he looks at you.

“Yeah, it was our second date. How could I forget? I got ketchup all over your new dress, too. I don’t know why you agreed to another date with me after that.”

“Hmm, I don’t know either. Maybe it's because you’re, oh, I don’t know, really cute or something?” He shoves you playfully and you shove him back. Shoving turns to grabbing, and grabbing turns to groping. His hands all over your body as you pull him by the belt loops into your bedroom.

It was amazing to feel this again. For it to feel real. To be intimate with Eddie after he had been gone for those seven long, lonely years.

You thought your time was limited when he got the diagnosis. That the cancer would take him and you would have an empty hole inside you that you would never recover from. Rock star money could buy a new car for all your family and friends or a last family trip to Rome, but you couldn’t pay enough for cancer not to spread so rapidly in the body.

Money could, however, get you early access to a new experimental technology that may be able to save your person hood to a cloud.

“Fuck, Eddie, I miss this,” you moan as you bounce up and down on his cock, “Missed you.”

Eddie's eyes were glued between you, watching as he disappeared inside you over and over. He pulled you down to press your bodies together, letting his hips roll into your as your lips locked in hot passion. You weren’t sure if it was because the two of you hadn’t had bodies like these in so long or if it was just the effect San Junipero has on you after death, but as the two of you lay breathless you can’t help but think that it’s the best sex the two of you have had in a long time.

“He really does look like me, doesn’t he,” Eddie says. You follow his gaze to a picture of your great-grandson, Micha. He was almost a clone of Eddie with the same long curls and dark eyes. And thanks to a recent 80s revival, they even had the same sense of fashion. You’d let him go through yours and Eddie’s shared dresser after he passed, letting him take whatever “vintage” pieces of Eddie’s wardrobe he wanted. “I hope he washed that vest though, I’m sure that thing stinks.”

“You think I was going to give him your vest without washing it first? God you should have seen how brown the water was when I first let it soak,” you cringe thinking about how many times you had to clean the tub after that.

“Damn, he really must have been your favorite if you did that. You wouldn’t even wash that thing for me.”

“Oh, shut up,” you roll your eyes, “I think you’re forgetting that you wouldn’t let me clean it. “Too many memories” or something like that.”

He looked at you in faux offense, but broke character when you didn’t back down. You use the last bit of sunlight to talk about the other pictures that now adorned your shared bedroom. Pictures of young family members he never got to meet, seven years worth of memories with friends and family he didn’t get to share after he had passed.

There was a picture that someone had taken of you and some of your friends that had been able to come out for Eddie’s funeral. You didn’t want to put that one up, but Eddie said it made him happy that all of his friends still cared so much even after he was gone.

It was bittersweet for both of you as your memory had started to rapidly fade in the last year of your life. You barely remember the time you spent here with him. Thankfully you had the memories from when you were awake regularly uploaded into the cloud just as they started letting the living enter San Junipero.

“I wish they could be here, too,” you sighed.

“Me too,” his hand squeezed yours, “But, I get it. Maybe by the time they get to our age it will be safer for them.” You nod and break away from him, standing up from the bed. “Where are you going, miss ma’am?”

You pick up your dress from the floor, slipping it over your body. You look over to him, the man who gave you one of the most amazing lives that any person could have ever lived. The freak of Hawkins High turned rock star, never forgetting those who were most important to him in his life. The man who you made two beautiful children with, who never felt like their dad put the rock star life before them. He was the love of your living life and now you got a second chance to love him for as long as this place would allow it.

“I think someone promised to get me some nasty pistachio ice cream.”

thank you for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson st #eddie munson stranger things #black mirror #black mirror au #san junipero au

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y-rhywbeth2 · 2 months

Text

Elven subraces

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest. etc]

(Tel'Quessir only, we're not going into the non-Torillian stuff like snow elves or astral elves)

How many of these bastards could you possibly need, you ask? Well according to the writers there are never enough:

So lore dumps on Moon elves, Sun elves, Star elves, Wood elves, Green elves, Aquatic elves, Winged elves, Dark elves (and their infinite permutations), Lythari, Fey'ri, and Celadrin. And we're not going into the other tiny little pockets of culture like the Llewyrr or the Poscadari.

A brief talk about the mixing of subraces, and then starting the lore dumps off with the moon elves.

(Well, the first half of the moon elves, because I forgot some things after moving onto the star and sun elves and had to add it later)

A note before going into it is that, obviously, elves can be descended from multiple subraces. Mechanically they will take after one parent, usually a mother. In appearance they usually favour one parent over the other, but they may have any mix of traits from their parents.

So a green elf (wood) and a moon elf (high) may produce a child whose 5e character sheet says either wood elf or high elf, with the appropriate stat bonus (3.5e would put them down as green or moon). It takes generations of mixing to produce a distinct subrace as the moon elves and wood elves have.

Canonically:

Shemmithil Maraphiir - better known as Ashemmi - is the daughter of a sun elven mother and a moon elven father. Mechanically she was a moon elf (and identified as one), and she had blonde hair and golden eyes from her mother.

Halanaestra, a tavern-master (barkeeper/pub landlord) on Evermeet is of mixed silver, green and sea elven heritage.

There's also an elven noble house (House Le'Quella) of mixed moon and green heritage.

As the offspring of an elf and a half-elf is mechanically classified as an elf in the Realms it's also possible for an elf to display human genes from a grandparent or more distant ancestor. (Or even a non-human non-elven ancestor).

Elven aging, in DnD baseline canon, features a lifespan of aprox. 750 years. That said, sources have varied and different elven subraces have different average lifespans so I'll mention them. It's also worth noting that these are average lifespans, and even the shortest-lived elven subrace (drow) are known to live into four digit numbers.

Obviously the lore presented is cultural norms and stereotypes, and individual elves may not fit the mould perfectly.

High Elves are sometimes referred to as Eladrin, which also happens to be the name for the closely related celestials/fey who dwell in the Feywild and Arvandor. Generally people just call them elves.

Calling a moon or star elf a high elf may cause confusion, as while there are three subraces that fall into the category it's also one of the terms used to refer to sun elves.

All high elven subraces share the same average heights and weights, standing on average about the same heights as humans (in contrast to elves of other worlds, who tend to be shorter)

Height Range: 4'5" - 6'6", averaging the same heights as humans.

Weight Range: 70 lbs - 250 lbs, lighter than a human of the same height and build - likely due to the comparatively physical fragility and 'delicateness' high elves are known for.

The People of the Moon - Teu'Tel'Quessir

Moon elves, Silver elves, Grey elves*

*A slur used by gold elves who consider them inferiors (and what an elf should not be).

By far the most likely to show ancestry from outside the moon elf gene pool. For example; while moon elven hair skews towards silver-white, they can be seen with hair of any colour.

Hair: silver, white, silver-white, white-blue, white-green, blue, midnight blue, black. Very, very early generations of moon elves had bright red hair, but that gene seems to have died out.

Eyes: Green, blue, grey, silver. A distinct trait of moon elves is that their eyes are always flecked with gold (which catches the light, giving the impression of literal gold or even stars).

Skintone: 'Bleached white' - also likened to ivory, alabaster and snow - with blue undertones, and an affect that's described as being like 'white marble' (which I assume is the blue pattern formed by veins under the skin where it's thin, but that's just my assumption.)

Average Lifespan: 500-900 years. Second longest lived of the elven subraces.

Patron deity: Sehanine Moonbow, deity of death, journeys, transcendence, dreams, mysticism, the night sky with the stars and moon. Moon elven religion is also the only one to officially include Angharradh in the pantheon.

Wandering party elves who may have to show up to work hungover. Individualistic, impulsive, flighty, fun-loving, hedonistic little bastards who tend to take risks and have a horrible ability to judge said risks: Do first, think later. Being alive is a delight, and the purpose of life is to enjoy it to the fullest (and to have the freedom to do so). If you visit Evermeet some of them will board your ship without warning on the way in and drink all your booze while singing bawdy songs. They tend to embrace change, delight in gambling, and see life as something to be enjoyed - other elves simply need to pull their heads out of their asses.

'Life is for the living and is best spent among the lively. Revel in variety and laughter, for all living things can learn and laugh with each other.'

Origin:

Moon elves are descended from the children of Sharlario Moonflower, an adventuring merchant from the Feywild (although his rival personally believed the man to be a pirate). He was staying in the city of Tintageer when it was destroyed by disaster and fled with the survivors to Toril. Said survivors became the gold elves, while he married a green elven priestess of Sehanine Moonbow. Their children inherited his white-blue skin and their mother's devout reverence for the Daughter of the Night Skies and were nicknamed moon elves as a result, they took to wandering as he did and served well as diplomats between the various elven people who had made their home on Toril.

(The Moonflower clan also went on to be the royal family as history progressed, and some sun elven reactionaries have never really forgiven the moon elves for that since that's their place.)

The Road of Life: 'The silver elves strongly believe than an individual must choose his or her path through life.' In the moon elven take on the core elven philosophy there is no one correct way to live life, and every individual must be free to find their own way and chose the path for themselves. It's not the destination that matters, but the journey.

Moon elves have a drive to seek excitement and new experiences; to see and do as much as they can within their lifespan, trying out new things and dropping them for the next as they go. They often spend the longest time in the first stage of the road, characterised by chasing impulse and entertainment, travelling and adventuring, focusing on themselves and their own interests rather than the community - and sometimes lapsing from the second stage (the mature stage where they focus on their society and their place in it) back to the first wanderlust stage in later life. There is no stigma against this however; it's their road to walk and they must walk it as they see fit.

Society:

Moon elves found outside of elven lands are transients, usually travelling in extended family groups. Of course, being elves, their idea of a brief stay has them hanging around in one settlement for years, sometimes several decades. They're likely to own houses and have jobs and long-term friendships before they decide to wander off again.

Their nomadic lifestyle often leads moon elves to pick up multiple languages over the course of their lives.

Due to their history of wandering and mixing with the people they encounter, their culture encouraging a love of fun and new experiences, and the presence of Angharradh in their religious beliefs encouraging strength in diversity, moon elves are the most outgoing and amongst the most open-minded and friendly elves (the others are the copper elves, who share their open-minded outlook but are more settled and reclusive). They do have conflicts - some moon elves are embittered by historical losses at the hands of humans; Evereska has historically been barred to any non-elves save Harpers and elf friends. And sometimes the friction between the clashing ideals of moon and sun elves, as well as their bad history, turns to real enmity rather than their usual 'disapproving family members' treatment. But the philosophical outlook moon elves have drilled into their head from birth, favouring individuality, generally leads them to be willing to treat people as individuals rather than members of their group.

Moon elven houses are the most likely to adopt non-elves into house membership, and often frown upon refusing to legitimise mixed children born to their house.

They usually happily integrate with their neighbours in whatever society they're staying in, though if they feel persecuted or othered they're known to respond by becoming the most obnoxious elven stereotype in order to annoy said neighbours. An elven household in a human city isn't going to have a bedroom and is liable to be covered in plants like some kind of greenhouse (these plants are actually edible - to the elven digestive system, at least), but assuming they like their guest they'll put the plants away and prepare a guest room while hosting. Sometimes the plants are enchanted to levitate to the rafters on command.

Fighters aren't uncommon, but moon elves prefer to approach conflict with a stealth-first mentality; moon elven stories favour heroes who outwit and humiliate their opponents with quick thinking and cunning.

Literature, song and poetry favours light-hearted with a focus on humour - especially dirty humour. They have their share of more solemn and tragic historical tales, but these things have their time and place and don't get the focus.

They like to party and all night revels are a common thing. Gambling games are also a staple of moon elven social life and getting dragged into games of kholiast (a very complicated card game involving dice and a deck of 1000 cars) is to be expected.

Pets are common, especially hunting dogs and birds of prey. They don't seem to care for horses though, preferring their own two feet. On the less common selection are blink dogs, pegasi, unicorns and dragonnes (cat-dragon things).

Moon elven culture doesn't encourage hiding or repressing emotion and many wear their hearts on their sleeves. They have a reputation for mood swinging, going from exuberant joy and merriment to 'the pits of despair and melancholy' and back again at speeds that non-moon elves struggle to cope with. Hiding or repressing your emotions is frowned on, and the stoicism practiced by gold elves is derided as a 'colourless' existence.

Customisation and self-expression in fashion is big. Makeup, especially eyeliner and eyeshadow is well loved. Piercings made of metal are less common, and bone - especially from a deceased loved one or revered ancestor - is favoured. If they use metal it's likely to be silver. Most moon elves having such pale hair means that temporary dyes see a lot of use, and they like painting their nails.

They also enjoy fussing over their hairstyles, and braids, ponytails and hair decorations like beads and wrapped wire are popular.

Some - though not all - moon elves have a tradition of body paint and tattooing in 'mystic patterns,' some of which were appropriated from green elven culture while others were maintained from their mutual ancestors. Body paint and temporary tattoos are far more common as their impermanence makes them more appealing: what if you change your mind about the design later, after all? You can change temporary designs as much as you like when you get a new idea and then put the old one on again later.

Almost as if they're making up for their flighty hedonistic ways, moon elves do take their oaths and responsibilities very seriously: an oath from a moon elf should be a binding contract, and oathbreakers are reviled as the worst sorts.

Adopting the local N'Quess fashions aside, traditional moon elven clothing is relatively simple but favours the highest quality material and construction possible. They enjoy embroidery and customising their own clothes, featuring patterns and beadwork and intricately carved stones. Some even add feathers. Where moon elves feel safe they favour bolder colours - cultural wisdom says 'brighter is better' and your peers respect you more the more ostentatious you go - but in places where they feel threatened they dress conservatively and tone it down to more earthen colours to blend in and avoid notice.

While they have the usual elven love of magic, and delight in experimentation and pushing the boundaries of the Art, moon elves despise black necromancy and its creations - likely a combination of their reverence for Sehanine to whose doctrine undeath is an abomination, and their love of life and freedom (to which undeath, a form of slavery and mock existence, is also an abomination). It is not taught or studied in Evereska, which may actually put them at a disadvantage when faced with hostile necromantic spells. Want to be an elven necromancer? Be ready to live alone.

They don't tend to make very good enchanters though, as few have the patience to sit around for ages doing all the long repetitive work that goes into making and enchanting a powerful item ('Sun elves in particular find this trait somewhat embarrassing' and moon elves respond by saying that think the sun elves' taking decades to make a single object is 'obsessive'). They usually make a bunch simple, weaker enchantments to-go.

Evereska, 'the Fortress Home,' and last major elven civilisation on Faerûn, located in the far North-East of the Western Hinterlands is a moon elven state. It does host sun and wood elven residents, but the city is still founded by and mostly populated by the Teu'Tel'Quessir.

The moon elven reputation for open-mindedness may find itself faltering there thanks to an extremely xenophobic noble population; half-elves are barred from certain privileges, such as membership at the Academy, without the backing of a high ranking elven parent and during the spellplage a rise in xenophobia saw many Evereskan half-elves leave the city. They prefer never to let dwarves of half-orcs in under any circumstances whatsoever. Said noble houses are ancient lineages and think moon elves not part of these esteemed houses are second-class citizens. Non-moon elves and non-elves can get fucked. As ever, Toril's nobility are a deranged world unto themselves and you can't really judge what to expect of a people by their rulers, nor what to expect of the nobility by looking at the average citizen.

(The moon elven noble houses of Evermeet tend to be friendlier.)

Religion:

Silver elves are pious as a people, and their idea of worship is (can you guess?) partying. You start a ceremony with a few moments of solemn prayer, the elven equivalent of an 'amen,' and then immediately start the revel. Festivals end when the last elf collapses from exhaustion sometime in the early morning after.

Sehanine Moonbow features prominently in their worship, and moon elves account for 54% of the membership of her church.

They are also the only elven subrace to remember the triune goddess Agharradh: the queen of Arvandor and a fusion of the deities Sehanine, Hanali Celanil and Aerdrie Faenya. Other subraces may find themselves called to her service but 93% of her total followers are moon elves. Sun elves are the only other elves who know who Angharradh is, and they dismiss her as moon elves misinterpreting Sehanine and consider her worship heretical (though they largely leave the moon elves be).

#Oh Xan of Evereska; you were the worst moon elf ever #Sand traded joy in for schadenfreude and scathing sarcasm #Linu... should not drink. I mean I'm sure it'd be hilarious to watch. From a distance.#Astarion's doing pretty well as an example of moon elvendom except for the vampirism. He hasn't made any oaths to break that I recall #And now bedtime #lore stuff #/astarion #long post #pointy eared stuff

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the-bluemoon-and-blackstar-show · 10 months

Text

ha. You guys didn't hear what I said before. Right? No hard feelings. I would love to hear your voices again. ha. I should probably leave before she starts asking me what I'm doing.

I think we all would love some asker's help.

#ask the blue moon and black star show #the blue moon and black star show #red blue and black #blackstar #blue moon #RBB Earth #I will not be doing comics regularly #sams #sams au #tsams #tsams au #the sun and moon show #sun and moon show

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amphiptere-art · 1 year

Note

Black Star gets a note with some updates from his first home dimension

Good news: Lunar and Earth started a youtube show too

Neutral news: That 'nice' Eclipse showed up and said he was living there now

Bad news: That Ruin guy remade Blood Moon, possibly with only the negative memories.

-Gluttony

Blackstar: "what. Of course those two numb skulls are making a show together. What could I have expected. At least Luna's alive and okay. At least for now."

"I can't believe that ruin guy brought blood moon back. What would that even do? I'm pretty sure they never had happy memories anyways."

"And that jerk! He's living with them now! What, is he replacing me! Just because he's better! Because I was- because I was... Jerk."

#blackstar #red blue and black #crossover story #ask the blue moon and black star show #sams #tsams au #tsams #sams au

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white-00-7 · 5 months

Text

The fallen

Lucifer x reader

( after Adam died)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

It was a regular day in the hazbin hotel. Charlie was doing redemption exercise with Angel Dust. Nifty was running everywhere to dust the place up, Vaggie was close to Charlie to help her , Alastor was in his chair as in the lobby could be heard a soft jazz song. Lucifer was in his apple tower. His room and workshop when all of the sudden a bright light illuminate his room and a crash sound outside the hotel making it to tremble a little.

When thwy all go outside to see what happened they see 2 angels fighting. One was an exterminator the other was strange. Her wings were a fuze of colors as the univers with stars, her black hair as the night was tied in loose braid. She was dressed in a royal blue dress that was covered in purple armor. She had a spear next to her but she was using her fists to fight that angel. She was speaking in a language that made then wonder what is she talking about. Even Lucifer haven't heard it before. After she threatened the angel she took their halo and broke it in her hands then get up and throw then away as they angel flow to the portal to heaven the one with wings of a galaxy was screaming at them something that was like swears and threats. After the portal close she sigh then took her own halo and look at it. Then in a fit of rage she broke hers to. She turn around to see demons in front of a building and took her spear and point it at them.

"Cine sunteți? De ce va uitați așa la mine?" (Who are you? Why are you guys looking at me that way) she speaks in that strange language again. Charlie come closer the the angel and ask her "Are you ok? You look hurt....your bleeding". The angel look at her smile as she understood what language to use to speak with them. "Hello. Yes I am good. But I want to ask you if you could show me the way to Charlie Morningstar? I heard that she can help me in a way to accept that I'm in hell. But first to tell you my name." She bows softly but with elegance. "My name is Y/n. I am the angel of galaxy. First to be created by the God and the last. Queen of dreams and hope and protector of balance".

Y/n pov:

'They are looking at me like I'm some kind of ghist or something. Hell. It is because of my wings?' She thought and hide her wings in her back. The girl with red circles on her cheeks and a big smile looks like an angel....is she the daughter of my little morningstar? "Hi my name is Charlie. Why don't you come in and let us help you patch up? I think you have a story to tell and maybe you will want to stay here" she said and approach y/n and she accepted Charlie hand. She made her spear disappear then walk into the hotel followed by the rest. Charlie sat her down on the couch as the rest sit around to listen.

"Ok so as I said I am y/n. The queen of dreams and hopes and protector of balance. I was the first and last angel of galaxy that God created. To protect humans by all kinds of threats from space like asteroids or black holes, to put stars on the night sky for them and to go to the dreams realm to fight with the nightmares who terorise humans. Being just me I dress differently as you all can see. I like white but my skin is already made of moon light and stardust. Dress differently speak differently and think differently. They thought that I am the problem. When I find out what they did to my little morningstar when I was gone I started to ask why and to find out, but they sended me on a mission again. I came back a week ago and when I find out finally when they did with Samael then here in hell killing innocent demons I started to question then to press them to stop. I told the whole heaven what they did and finally when you guys saw me I was fighting and destroyed the exorcism. I'm sorry it took so long to come here. Truly." She looks at all of then embarrassed then at Charlie and what she thinks it was her little star. Samael but now Lucifer.

Lucifer was startled to hear his other name then look at her puzzled. Charlie had tears in her eyes but then Angel Dust spooke "What do you mean by your little morningstar?" She smiled at then and blush softly as then sigh and open her palms. A soft light that sparks with a light so beautiful that made you feel warm and comfortable. "This is what humans called the star of morning. The first star to appear on the sky and the last to go. My little morningstar. This star is under Samael name because God wanted it to be so." She looks at Lucifer and smile as he was almost in tears. She put the star away and when the light disappeared she looks at all of then then wince and cover her right side of her stomach. Gold blood was gushing out and she started to breath heavily. "C...can someone carry me to a room? Preferably at the top of this building and to stich me up? Thanks" after those words she fainted.

Third person pov:

Y/n fainted as soon as she finished talking and Lucifer caught her body in time before falling. He looks at her puzzled and feeling strange after hearing her story. He knew of her name. Never seen her before tough. He looks at Charlie and she got up and started to walk upstairs where she thinks is the best room for her new guest. Lucifer placed y/n on the bed and snap his fingers to make some pijama pants and shirt appear. She give then to Charlie and told her to call Vaggie and change her clothes and dress her wounds as he leaves the women's alone.

(Not my art)

#lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer

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ugh-yoongi · 11 months

Note

In honor of the Golden release, what are some of your favorite JK fics? 🫶

hi nonnie, thank you so much for asking! i love an excuse to show off my ridiculous amount of bookmarks, and i hope everyone is enjoying golden. <3

most of these contain mature themes/content! please heed tags and don't engage with explicit work if you are a minor.

i know there are a ton i've forgotten, so please feel free to reblog and add your own :)

jk x reader

idealizations concerning real life relations by @venusiangguk

frost impressions by @fortunexkookie

baecation by @1kook

holidating by @yeojaa

the wedding planners by @gukyi

pour up (feat. taehyung) by @jungkxook

burning bright by @snackhobi

ego by @suga-kookiemonster

it takes two by @junghelioseok

heartless + compromise by @here2bbtstrash

practice by @chryblossomjjk

thursdays are for... (feat. taehyung) by arguileless

christmas is waiting for you by lamourche

jk x member recs under the cut

fake sugar (jinkook) <3

park jimin's guide to good housekeeping + park jimin's guide to getting hitched (jikook) <3

summer dreams collection (yoonjinkook)

mileage may vary (taekook)

if you love me won't you say something (yoonkook) <3

love like war (yoonkook)

love as fast as light (jikook)

drop like confetti (jikook)

cherub vice (jinkook) <3

the courage of stars (namkook)

bloom (jinkook)

how much to give and how much to take (namkook)

high on you and me (yoonkook)

gay panic: the musical (yoonkook)

my youth is yours (yoonkook)

it's a color that i can't describe (namkook)

years since you've been here (namkook)

city of trees (taekook)

the whole of the moon (namkook) <3

bone + tissue (hopekook)

108 degrees (namkook)

let there be light (yoonkook)

which to bury: us or the hatchet? (yoonkook)

everything i never told you (yoonkook)

"blue shorts. no shirt. six pack. heineken." (yoonjinkook)

a quiet kind of thunder (yoonkook) <3

jet black feeling (yoonjinkook)

salt water (namjinkook) <3

disgruntledofficebrat [available] (namkook)

travelogue with a frat boy (namkook)

ult favs marked with a <3

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #fic rec #jewel answers

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afewproblems · 1 year

Note

50. "I need you to forgive me."

You know why...

But please!!!

I know this took forever so I hope you will forgive me! (Also when I originally received this ask I had just posted part one and mentioned in the tags that prompt 50 could be a good 'fix-it' prompt for a follow up, and well, here we are! Also when I received it, I laughed for a solid minute, like evil laughed so thank you @happymediummm )

Part Three of Prompt 53. 'I'm flirting with you!'

Part One, Part Two

It's on Friday that the cavalry arrives.

Dustin bangs on Eddie's bedroom door, with a mace by the sounds of it.

He's about to snark that Dustin doesn't play a class that uses martial weapons when he hears the kid yell--

"Eddie! You have five seconds before I come in there and get you myself, I got your uncle's permission and everything!"

Eddie groans and detaches himself from the bed flipping the pillow he had been wallowing in away from himself.

He stomps towards the door and flings it open, leveling an unimpressed glare at Dustin who barrels past him into the bedroom.

Dustin crosses to the desk, his head on a swivel as he looks around the small space, Eddie scoffs as he steps towards Dustin, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing Henderson?" Eddie spits out as Dustin shrugs his hand off, he seems to spy what he's looking for as he crows a single, 'Aha,' and makes his way to the dresser.

"Seriously, Dustin, what are you doing here?"

"Saving you from yourself dude," Dustin scoffs as he takes a tape out of his pants pocket, the familiar writing on the label makes Eddie's stomach fall into his feet.

It's Steve's tape.

"No, nope, absolutely not," Eddie snaps.

He reaches for the cassette in Dustin's hand, only for the little shit to spin away from him and toss the tape from his right to his left hand in a move that seems so much like the teen's babysitter that Eddie wants to scream.

Dustin manages to pop the tape into the player and hit play before Eddie can get close again.

A few notes of a bass guitar reach Eddie's ear and his hands drop from Dustin's shoulders as he perks up…he knows this song.

"What the fuck Henderson?" He breathes out with wide eyes that flick back and forth between him and the cassette player.

'Oh yeah!

Some people say my love cannot be true

Please believe me, my love, and i'll show you

I will give you those things you thought unreal

The sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal--'

"You are being an idiot," Dustin says matter of factly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he frowns at Eddie, "I don't exactly know what you said, but I think I got the gist out of Steve earlier today when Robin wasn't acting like a guard dog".

His dark blue eyes scan Eddie as he shakes his head, "you thought it was a joke, do you know Steve?"

Eddie rolls his eyes before crossing to the cassette player and slapping the stop button. All at once the sounds of Black Sabbath halt, leaving the room in tense silence.

"Look," Eddie snarls, "I've known people like Steve over the years, it's all the same bullshit--"

"Stop it!" Dustin snaps, he steps closer to Eddie and jabs a finger into his chest, "you don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

Dustin's cheeks are flushed with anger as he shakes his head again, "he's nothing like that Eddie, you're being an asshole!"

"What is all the yellin' about?" Wayne's voice trickles through the door, a hint of concern running through it as he leans against the frame, eyeing both Eddie and Dustin warily.

"When I gave you permission to barge in here I don't remember agreeing to participate in a screamin' match son,” Wayne says, biting back a smile at the indignant expression on Dustin's face.

"Sorry Mr. Munson, but Eddie's being an idiot!" Dustin crosses his arms once more as he looks from Eddie to Wayne challengingly.

"That so?" Wayne laughs, "care to argue the charge," he directs at Eddie who rolls his eyes.

"It's nothing Wayne, Dustin is leaving now--"

"Steve made that tape for you," Dustin yells, pointing at the cassette player, "and you threw it in his face!"

"That true Ed?"

"It was a stupid joke," Eddie growls as Dustin throws his hands up in the air, "it doesn't mean anything".

Wayne looks at Eddie for a long moment, his face unreadable.

"Steve Harrington?" He asks softly.

Dustin nods nervously at Wayne before shooting another glare at Eddie.

"The one that came by your hospital room every day till you woke up Ed? The one they couldn't get to leave on the day you opened your eyes, that Steve Harrington?"

"So?" Eddie huffs, wrapping his own arms around his chest tightly, incredibly aware of the two pairs of eyes trained on him.

"Wayne, you told me I had to be careful of who I opened myself up to, I'm just following your advice!"

Wayne sighs, lifting his hand to pinch into his eyes.

"You'd be lucky to have a friend like Steve," Dustin grumbles as he moves to the bed to sit down. He pulls up his legs up to his chest and glares at the back of Eddie's head.

"Kid, I think Ed and I need to have a conversation, alone," Wayne says quietly to Dustin.

Eddie watches in fascination as Dustin opens his mouth to argue, but after whatever silent conversation takes place between the teen and his uncle, Dustin merely huffs and slips off the bed.

"Listen to the damn tape and get your head out of your ass," Dustin bites out as he passes Eddie, he levels one last impressive glare at the metal-head before leaving the room.

Wayne sighs as he makes his way over to the bed to sit, taking over Dustin's vacated spot.

"So, Harrington, huh?"

Eddie scowls and says nothing, leaning against the dresser. He winces as the sudden weight of his shoulder jostles everything, causing his loose D&D dice to fall off the edge and plink and plunk across the floor of his room.

The D4 will be a bitch to accidentally find with his feet later on, but Eddie ignores the mess and continues brooding against the dresser.

Wayne scratches his face, tapping an unsteady rhythm against his jean clad knee with his other hand, "okay," Wayne says gruffly from the bed as he shifts to stand.

"I don't know what ya did or said, but it was enough to make that kid beg his way in here," Wayne huffs, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the open door.

Eddie shrugs, refusing to lift his gaze from the floor. He hears Wayne sigh and the shift of fabric as he steps closer.

"You were so small," Wayne mutters suddenly.

Eddie looks up in confusion, but Wayne isn't looking at him, his eyes are trained just over Eddie's shoulder.

"When you came home that day, all black and blue," he shrugs and scratches his face again, "I didn't know how to help ya, and you wouldn't explain".

Eddie swallows roughly, horrified at the sudden brightness of his uncle's eyes. A man he has only seen cry twice since he's known him, the first time was at Eddie's mothers funeral, the other was the day Eddie woke up at the hospital all those months ago.

"I don't think I could stand it if anything happened to you Ed," Wayne breathes out wetly now as he roughly scrubs at his face, "and you being in the hospital, you were suddenly that small kid again, standing on my porch all black and blue".

Eddie feels his own eyes sting as his uncle turns slightly to wipe his face again, "What are you saying?"

"You weren't alone this time, Ed," Wayne says softly as he steps towards his nephew and grasps him gently by the shoulders, "you have so many more people looking out for you, hell --one of em' carried you home".

"I think a person like that deserves at least a chance to know you, and to see what I see".

It's Eddie's turn to swipe at his misty eyes, "What's that?" He asks with an unconvincing cough to hide the wobble in his voice.

Wayne smiles, giving Eddie's shoulders a soft squeeze, "a damn good kid with a big heart, who I hope knows how to apologize when it's needed".

"But what if you're wrong?"

"Then I'm wrong, and we'll get through it," Wayne tugs Eddie towards him without warning into a tight hug and reaches behind Eddie to press play on the cassette player; the sound of guitar and drums begin again as Ozzy's voice fills the room.

'Your love for me has just got to be real

Before you know the way I'm going to feel--'

"But for the record kid, I don't think I am".

***

Eddie listens to the tape.

He listens to it again and again, both sides. Steve filled both sides with music for him…

He lays on his bed while it plays, staring a hole into the ceiling as the last few piano notes ring out before the tape stops, filling the room with silence.

The songs don't all go with one another and out of a dozen there's about eight he knows. The other four seem to be a mixture of songs he's heard Steve play in the beemer with the kids, or while dancing in his kitchen with Robin.

it's not an expert mix by any means, but Steve did manage to collect a decent amount of metal songs just for Eddie and even a one he's never heard before --since when did Scorpions write love songs?

After hours alone in his room, sitting on his bed, listening to Steve's tape over and over again, there is one thing he can't deny.

Steve Harrington has feelings for him…had feelings for him, and Eddie ruined it.

He wants to take the version of himself that pushed Steve away and shake him.

Eddie winces as he pictures the devastated expression on Steve's face when he left. His normally bright hazel eyes and wide goofy grin were left pinched with hurt.

Eddie had done that, taken six months of tentative friendship, of lingering glances and soft teasing smiles -how had he missed those, and tossed this delicate thing away from himself like it was nothing.

He looks over at the glowing green hands of the clock by his bed. It’s nearly midnight; Dustin left a few hours ago now and Wayne is now at work.

Eddie breathes out a sigh through his nose as a sudden wave of determination flows through him.

He looks towards the far wall by the door, his Sweetheart hanging up on her hooks.

Dustin had apparently insisted on grabbing it, doubling back on a severely sprained ankle while Nancy tore a verbal strip off his back for wasting time as an unconscious Eddie slowly continued to bleed out in Steve's arms.

Eddie shivers, it had been so strange to consider everything that happened, or what he was told happened during the gap in his memory.

Steve had been the one to carry him out while Robin and Nancy helped compress the worst of his wounds with torn fabric and left over gauze from the patch job they had done for Steve.

He vaguely remembers a string of words, a whispered sentence that made no sense as Eddie drifted in and out of consciousness but now…

'You can't do this, come on Munson, open those stupid beautiful eyes of yours, who's going to yell at us about the corruption of youth in America huh? We need you man, I-I….'

Eddie had really been so fucking clueless.

He gets up from the bed and crosses to the wall, taking the guitar off the hooks.

At least now, he has a plan.

***

It was a shit plan.

Cutting down the road the kids had taken to calling Mirkwood and through the woods by Loch Nora seemed pretty sound in theory, giving Eddie the element of surprise and hiding him from any watchful neighborhood eyes.

What he had not taken into account, however, was the pitch darkness, the unfamiliar maze of trees he now found himself in, and how fucking heavy his portable amp was going to be.

Perfect.

Eddie stumbles over a fallen log, nearly careening into the mulch and rotting leaves of the forest floor. The half moon above him, not nearly enough to light his path through the thicket.

At least this version of the woods feels alive, Eddie thinks to himself; the smell of damp dirt and the sound of frogs and crickets singing in the darkness is infinitely more appealing than the strange forest they had found themselves in a mere six months prior. And with the gates finally sealed, the most dangerous thing he could come across would probably be a rattler or a coyote.

Eddie peers around at the thought, he's not quite sure he's entirely comfortable even running into those animals anytime soon…especially the snake.

Finally, after another ten minutes of walking, warm yellow light begins to sift through the trees ahead of him as he brushes away low branches from his field of vision.

Eddie hikes up the guitar strap higher up his shoulder and steps fully into the light that illuminates the Harrington backyard lawn and pool.

Eddie scans the back of the house, flipping the mental map of the Harrington home around to visualize which window was most likely to be for Steve's bedroom.

He steps further into the yard, setting down the heavy amp onto the concrete patio before leaning down to grab a handful of wood chips from the shrubs next to the house.

Here goes nothing.

Eddie tosses one of the pieces of wood at the window above him.

It barely connects with the windowsill before dropping back down onto the patio with a muted clack.

Oh this is humiliating.

He tries again and again to hit Steve's window with the wood chips in his hand, each one completely misses the target. One bounces into the eavestrough, another careens off the siding and back into the pool behind Eddie.

"Fuck this," Eddie growls, throwing the rest of the wood chips back into the shrubs as he snatches the cord for his amp and shoves the plug into the nearest outdoor outlet.

He turns the volume down slightly, the plan won't work if the cops get called on him immediately.

Eddie takes the guitar off his back and plucks a few notes, adjusting one of the tuning keys until the sound is just right.

"Here goes nothing, come on Stevie," Eddie whispers as he begins to play.

"I hear the ticking' of the clock, I'm lying here the room's pitch dark," he sings softly, strumming out the cords, it's slightly harsher than the piano but sue him, Eddie only managed to play it once through by ear at home before he left the house.

This was Steve's last track on the tape, and Eddie's sure he put it there for a reason.

He listened to the song again and again, slowly picking up the cords as he did so.

He could do this, he picked up Master of Puppets in just a few weeks, Eddie could handle Heart.

Eddie keeps going, his voice carries over the yard, growing in volume; so much so that he misses the patio door slowly slide open and the sound of a pair of feet padding onto the patio.

"What are you doing here?" Steve's voice calls out to Eddie from the door, he jumps, nearly dropping the guitar. His hand jolts on the strings as Eddie attempts to keep his hold on the instrument, letting the guitar scream for him.

Steve stares at him as Eddie unplugs the amp cord and swings the guitar around his back once more with shaking hands, his thoughts spinning, trying to figure out how to start.

"I listened to the tape," Eddie says softly, Steve cocks his head slightly to better hear him, his face shuttering as the words register.

Eddie's heart races as he watches Steve begin to turn towards the patio door once more, he needs to act fast.

"And I need you to forgive me," he blurts out, louder than he intends, but Steve does pause with his hands on the door handle.

"Why's that?" He says sharply, dropping his hand away from the door, turning to fully face Eddie once more.

Eddie chews his lip nervously as Steve's gaze hardens the longer they stand in silence, his arms come up to wrap around his chest tightly.

"I thought you were playing a prank," Eddie sighs, saying it aloud makes him want to deflate, to walk right into the pool and sink to the bottom.

If the look Steve gives him is any indication, Steve would be more than happy to watch him go.

"That's a lot of effort to put into a fucking prank Munson," Steve bites out, there is no heat to the words though. He just sounds tired, resigned.

Shit.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Eddie mumbles, he reaches up to scrub his hand over his face, missing the way Steve's face softens ever so slightly and his arms drop from the way they seem to be holding him together.

"But I'm not going to make excuses," Eddie takes a step closer to Steve, his heart threatening to break through his ribcage the closer he gets, "I'm sorry for how I reacted and for thinking you could do something like that".

"I know you aren't like that, you're honest, and kind," Eddie reaches out and takes the tape from his back pocket and gestures towards Steve with it, "and so fucking thoughtful it makes me ache to think I ruined everything".

He puts the tape back in his pocket, Steve’s eyes watch him curiously now as he does, it fills him with wary hope, enough to keep talking.

"So, I need you to forgive me Steve, because I hope you'll let me make it up to you sweetheart".

Steve's face tips down suddenly towards his socked feet and the cold concrete patio, making it impossible for Eddie to make out his expression. He holds his breath as the silence stretches between them.

"Robin was right, you can be such an asshole," Steve says quietly, Eddie's chest tightens painfully at the words.

Eddie nods once,doing everything in his power to keep his face neutral but the downward curl of his lip is unstoppable as he reaches down to pick up the amp.

"But," Steve says, taking a step away from the door behind him, "as someone who was an asshole for a long time," Steve says quietly, pressing the palm of his hand into his chest, "I think it would be pretty hypocritical to not let you make it up to me".

He's grinning now. It’s small, barely stretching across Steve's freckled face, but it's warm and just for Eddie.

"What did you have in mind, Sweetheart?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, his eyes dart over Eddie's face before he finally whispers, "can you finish the song Eds?"

"I think that can be arranged, " Eddie hums with a bright grin of his own.

He swings the guitar off his back again, quickly plugging it into the amp.

Eddie looks up to find Steve smiling softly at him as he takes a seat on one of the pool loungers. He pulls his legs up to rest his arms on his knees, basking in his own private concert.

As the first pink and orange rays of sunrise begin to bloom on the horizon behind him, slowly painting Steve's face gold, Eddie can't help the relief that flows through him.

He looks down at the shy grin Steve gives him, his hazel eyes bright in the new day's light, and thinks, 'holy shit, I almost missed this'.

"You don't know how long I have wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight," he picks up where he left off, his voice mixing with the slow rhythm of the guitar, “you don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight--”

Eddie watches, surprised as Steve swiftly gets up from the lounger and walks towards him, his expression determined.

"I think that's my line," Steve whispers as he leans in to cup Eddie's face in his hands and kisses him.

Eddie short-circuits.

The kiss is chaste, short, not much more than the brief press of warm chapped lips against Eddie's own, but the way Steve lets his hands move from Eddie's face to his hair and neck, holding him in place. The way Steve steps into Eddie's space so all he can taste, smell, and feel is Steve.

It’s exhilarating.

Steve pulls back slightly before placing a second kiss on Eddie's lips, his eyes half lidded and a deep red flush staines his cheeks and ears a bright red. Steve looks much more debauched than necessary and Eddie suddenly wishes they weren't outside, that he could take Steve into the house and show him exactly how sorry he is.

"I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait, did you learn all of them or just that one?" Steve asks, his voice slightly breathy, he still hasn't let go of Eddie or stepped away.

"Just that one," Eddie repeats dumbly, feeling the urge to walk into the pool again as Steve laughs.

Oh Eddie loves that laugh.

“You sure,” Steve asks again, his eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles widely, “I thought maybe you could show me some of the other songs you know, inside?”

Either he’s dreaming or Steve is a mind reader because holy shit.

Eddie nods, unable to even form the words as Steve reaches for the amp and gently takes it out of his hands. Steve transfers the amp to his right hand and takes Eddie’s now empty hand with his left as he leads him towards the patio door.

Eddie watches, transfixed, as Steve looks back to shoot him another warm smile as they step over the threshold of the back door, and the words his uncle said earlier in the evening come back to him as Steve leads him towards the living room.

‘I think a person like that deserves at least a chance to know you, and to see what I see’.

Eddie halts his movement, grabbing Steve’s hand firmly in his own, pulling him backwards until Steve turns, his eyebrows furrowed in wary confusion.

“Thank you, for giving me another chance,” Eddie says softly. He lets the hand holding Steve's own move to trail up and down his arm, eliciting a shiver from Steve.

“I mean, you gave me one, you came back right?” Steve says softly.

Eddie's heart twists at the words, he feels his face fall slightly at the thought that Steve could ever think he was somehow at fault for this, “I was an idiot, that wasn’t your fault at all sweetheart”.

Steve looks at him again, his eyes scanning Eddie’s own for what feels like ages, his expression unreadable.

“Co’mere,” he murmurs eventually, letting go of Eddie to sit on the couch. He pats the cushion beside him, with the same soft smile from earlier, “play some music for me”.

There’s more to unpack here, more to talk about, other apologies to whisper in this beautiful man's ear.

But for now, he swings his guitar in front of him and slowly walks over to Steve.

Steve asked for music, and who is Eddie not to oblige?

@ihavekidneys @superchellerific @zerokrox-blog @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @samcoxramblings @warlordess @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @lostonceandneverfound @shunna @fairytalesreality @estrellami-1 @rlpersephone3259 @zaphodkilledthespeedforce @newtstabber @grtwdsmwhr @uwujinniee @anica-d @imzadidragonfly @orangeandthefairroadkill @starman-jpg @nabatute @goodolefashionedloverboi @wheatnoodle @novacorpsrecruit @lolawonsstuff @redlegumes @paintsplatteredandimperfect @scheodingers-muppet @thephantomhood @0o-queendean-o0 @blackholegladiator @nerdfighteratheart @hallucinatedjosten

(I hope I haven't forgotten anyone, thank you very much for following along with this little story everyone!)

#this ask brought me so much joy #seriously you guys are the best #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #afewproblems writes #afewproblems answers #fixing misunderstandings #we made it sad and then made it better #oh eddie you oblivious sunfish #that boy thinks you hung the moon let him kiss you #Steve still needs some serious therapy for that self esteem #wayne munson gives expert advice and loves his nephew #dustin henderson takes no shit #I think I'll title this Essential Songs to Woo a Metal-Head on AO3

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