#chiffon winter dresses

[chicinsilk]

Sophie Malgat in black crepe evening dress with short red velvet bolero and chiffon petals by Hubert de Givenchy.

Sophie Malgat en robe du soir en crêpe noir avec boléro court en velours rouge et pétales de mousseline de Hubert de Givenchy.

Photo Milton Greene, Paris, 1952

[surielstea]

Debts and Gifts

Fic requested by @weirdo-fun

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader (marriage of convenience au)

Summary: Azriel and Reader are out shopping for solstice when Reader stumbles upon someone from her past and Azriel’s sees to it that she forgets about him.

Warnings: PDA | Reader is a former courtesan | very, very slight nsfw, public (ish) | Azriel being feral for reader at all times.

3k words.

It was the last market day before Winter Solstice, which meant pop-up shops and vendor carts lined the main streets of Velaris, selling anything from hand-made jewelry to warm meals.

The streets were teeming with last-minute shoppers dressed in their warmest coats, everyone seeking warmth so much so that one of the cocoa vendors had a line around the corner.

I stood at one of the less crowded establishments, staring at the crystals beneath the protective glass, twisting my wedding ring around my fourth finger, a habit I picked up the moment it was placed on my finger.

"Come, this way," A familiar voice says and I turn from the crystals to face him, the dark-haired male holding out his scarred hand as an invitation. I pull my scarf up higher, hiding my flushed cheeks as I intertwine our cold hands. It was just so the crowd didn't split us up.

"I still have to get Rhys a solstice present," Azriel murmured, using the advantage of his height to look over the bustling crowd.

"The High Lord is the last on your list?" I giggle teasingly.

"Who says I got anything for you?" He lifted a dark brow at me and I frowned, squeezing his hand slightly.

"I think Mor and Cassian would beat you up if you didn't get anything for your wife," I state and he tenses slightly as if he's never heard me call him my husband before. I have, of course, many times to win arguments or just to tease him, so what was the difference now?

— flashback —

As a girl born in the Hewn City, I really didn't have much of a choice when it came to my line of work. It was a Courtesan or a housewife. And I wasn't exactly wealthy enough to afford the pretty dresses or delicate perfumes that would draw in the suitors in the first place. So courtesan it was.

Madame Welder was an older lady but I swore there wasn't a wrinkle on her. She was also the only person I've ever been afraid of, and I was her favorite disciple, lucky me.

It was my bidding day today, a day in every courtesan's life that would determine her fate of success. A day when men across courts would offer an obscene amount of money to take her virginity.

I dreaded this day. "At least you look pretty?" Mor smiled from beside my head, her hands planted on my shoulders as I stared at myself in the mirror, the dress I wore was more conservative than I had been expecting, don't get me wrong it wasn't modest by any means, but I've seen other girls dressed in sheer white chiffon for their own bidding days.

The gown was made of delicate white silk, and my décolletage was enunciated by curtaining fabric, covering just enough to prompt curiosity. The length was short, but not alarming enough for me to be embarrassed.

I did look pretty. I didn't exactly feel it.

"Yeah," I murmured. "At least I look pretty," I sigh, spinning on my heel, deciding the sight of myself was too foreign to handle. I walk towards my vanity and reapply my slightly faded lipstick.

A knock at the door made me flinch, I wasn't ready for this.

"Dearest, it's time," My Madame’s voice says through the door and my spine stiffens. I looked to Morrigan with creased brows.

"Everything will be fine," She smiles at me so casually the facade makes me believe her for a moment. "I'm taking care of everything alright?" She hums, coming closer to cup my cheeks. "Alright?" She repeats and I nod, my shoulders slightly relaxing and she smiles a bit brighter.

"Good."

The Shadow Singer had bet on me that night, in fact, he bet the largest sum that my Madame had ever made off a girl. She was more than happy to usher me off towards him.

"Az? What are you doing?" I whisper shout at him the moment we're in solitude. "Did Morrigan not tell you the plan?" His brows furrow, creasing in the center.

"The plan— what are you talking about?" I shake my head confused.

"We're getting you out of here," He says simply and I blink, then blink again, making sure I wasn't imagining this.

"I can't just leave, I'm indebted to my Madame," I explain and he rolls his eyes as if I should've already figured all this out.

"I just paid her more than she's made in her career, you don't owe her anything."

"But—" I begin.

"No buts, Morrigan and I devised a whole plan to get you out of this wretched city, you're not ruining it because of your good morality," He tuts, cutting me off and a frown pulls at my lips.

"No, Az it's not that," I sigh with a shake of my head. He cocks a brow, waiting for an explanation.

"Every girl under Madame Welder's wing is, more or less forced into entering a bargain with her," I pause, only to swallow thickly before continuing. "A girl cannot leave her organization until she has met the qualifications," I finish but his confusion still lingers.

"The qualifications being?" His head tilts and I rock slightly on my stiletto heels, my feet aching.

"There's only three, the first is that the girl has made Madame Welder a certain amount of money," I murmured and Azriel snorted. "I think I crossed that one off, the others?" He leaned back against the hallway wall, so very casual as he gracefully swept his hair away from his eyes.

"The second is that it must be after your bidding day, which we now needn’t worry about,” I murmur, upright about the third and final requirement. He noticed my stress but said nothing, waiting for me to finish.

“The third is marriage.” I finally manage to spit out and he blinks, his shoulders relaxing as he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank the cauldron I thought it’d be far worse,” Azriel hummed and I looked at him like he was crazy. “We'll find you someone to marry,” He waved me off.

My brows creased. Someone would have to give up their chance at love so I could have a chance at freedom? It didn’t feel right. I’ve never been free, marriage meant surrendering my family name, which meant that I was one-half of someone else that I barely knew.

“Who would possibly give up their freedom if only to grant mine?” I narrowed my gaze and he shrugged. “We’ll get married,” He suggested and a pink flush warmed my cheeks. “We can figure this out, I’m not leaving you here,” He shakes his head, grabbing my hand in his. I squeezed it in reply, my blush still blazingly hot across my face.

He suddenly pulled me down a hall and I yelped as he took me towards the exit of the slightly crumbling tower. “Where are we going?” I asked with pursed lips.

“I bought you for the night didn’t I?” He cast a glance back towards me with a sly wink. If I wasn’t red, I most certainly was now. My spine stiffened but I continued to race after him. “Relax,” His thumb brushed over the back of my palm reassuringly. “We’re going to find you a ring.”

———

I was grateful for him that day, even more grateful that it was him Morrigan selected to bid for me. Not that I'd ever admit it aloud, but gods was I glad it was he was the one, out of all the others, who ended up putting a ring on my finger.

"Stay close," Azriel snapped me out of my thoughts but before I could register what he said, he pulled me into the crowd. I squeezed onto his hand tighter as I weaseled my way through people to keep up with him. He let go of my hand in favor of slipping it around my waist, holding me close to him as we traveled through the sea of people.

Lucky for us, most people of Velaris feared Illyrians so everyone made an effort to avoid us at the sight of Azriel's wings.

"What are you thinking of getting Rhys?" I ask as we weave and bob through the crowd.

"I have no idea. What do you get a lord who already has everything?" He sighs.

"A lint roller?" I suggest and he turns to look at me, slightly confused but I brush him off. "How about a new pair of shoes?" I try but his skeptical expression remains.

"He's not Morrigan," Azriel grumbles and I roll my eyes, continuing to shuffle alongside him. "What'd you get him?"

I shrug. "A new fancy jacket, say what you want. The male likes his clothes," I state and he only nods, his mind reeling.

We continue to walk in silence for a few minutes before he suddenly tightens his hold on me and pulls me in another direction.

"You really have to stop yanking me everywhere, I'm going to get whiplash one of these days," I huff as we enter a small, cozy bookstore. I look at him incredulously and he brushes me off.

“Since when does the High Lord read?” I scoff, walking down an aisle of colorful, and very enticing spines.

“We’re not here for Rhys,” He shook his head and I looked at him bewildered, my brows bunched. “Go on, pick out a book,” He waved me off and I blinked, still slightly confused. He sighed, giving me a soft smile.

“I got you a gift already, but I figured I wouldn’t exactly be fulfilling my role as the best husband ever if I didn’t spoil you,” He flashed me a pearly smile, showcasing a pair of dimples that I loved so dearly.

“How many can I get?” I ask him cheekily, as a joke surely, only expecting him to get me one but instead, he reaches to his side and picks up a wicker basket from its stack. “You can fill this up,” He handed me the basket and my eyes nearly popped from the sockets.

“Gods I could kiss you,” I muse, crashing into him in a hug. He didn’t stumble, but it took him a moment before he hugged me back. Registering what I said, I quickly pulled back. “Sorry,” I murmur, clutching the handle of the basket tighter.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. “That was the reaction I was looking for,” He smirked and I blinked, my breath caught in my throat.

He jerked his head towards the books behind me and I closed my mouth, realizing I must’ve been staring at him like a gaping fish. “Thank you,” I say, normally this time, and spin on my heel to examine the titles and covers of the many volumes.

I was in the midst of skimming through some adventure tale when a glimpse of someone caught my eye. I looked up, spotting a blonde male in the aisle beside mine. My breath hitched and I quickly slammed the book shut, putting it back on the shelf and walking as fast as I could without running towards the other direction. I foolishly bumped into a hard chest before I could turn the corner.

Fortunately, it was only Azriel. His shadows swirled around my ankles worriedly. “Everything alright?” His hands come to my shoulders and I swallow thickly. “Yeah,” I nod, glancing back to the male in the other direction who I wish I didn’t recognize. I looked back to my husband but his gaze had already followed mine, picking up on what I was running away from.

“You know him?” His expression hardened.

“No!” I blurted out, terribly loud and I clapped my hand over my mouth nervously. He gave me a pointed look and my shoulders slumped. “Fine, yes. He was a patron at Madame Welder's organization,” I say with a hushed tone. “He always kept an eye on me. If you weren’t the one that won on my bidding day, it would’ve been him,” I explain in a murmur and his face contorts, not into anger but rather… amusement?

“What’s so funny?” I scowl.

“We’re married.” He grabbed my left hand, holding it up to showcase the ridiculously large diamond on my fourth finger. “Remember?” He tilts his head but my frown remains. “As far as I can tell, there’s no ring on his finger. This means two things, one: you’re taken. And two: you’re doing a lot better than he is,” He said unambiguously. I swallowed down my nerves.

“Yes, but this,” I gestured between the two of us. “It isn’t real,” I argue, keeping my voice low.

“It can be,” He smirks, and my flush returns. “To him, at least,” He goes on.

“What do you want me to do? Kiss you in front of him?” I cross my arms.

“I mean unless you want to keep hiding behind me then go right ahead, but when he looks over at you and recognizes not the ring on your finger, but your shyness he’s going to think you’re the same girl you were ten years ago.” He explains.

“I’m not.”

“I know that, but don’t you want him to know too?” He raises a brow.

“You’re just trying to manipulate me, so desperate for some touch in your life,” I narrow my gaze on him.

He smiled, then shrugged. “Have it your way, I’ll be over here.” He began to stroll towards the male I was so terrified of being seen by.

I cast a glance at the blonde and noticed he was walking closer. “Wait he’s coming over here,” I grabbed Azriel by his shirt and he stumbled towards me finding purchase on the shelf beside my head, caging me against it.

“Oh, now you want my help?” He taunted and I rolled my eyes.

“Shut up and kiss me already,” I pulled at his shirt again and he wasted no time in following my command.

His lips were tender against mine and warmed me so thoroughly that I thought about stripping from my winter jacket. We’ve kissed before, for our wedding, and a few times after that in front of crowds to prove our love, but it didn’t feel like any of the previous kisses this time.

Because this time it was just us, the rest of the world melting away as my arms sling around his neck, one of my hands tangling into his black hair while my other one traces lines on the top of his taut wings.

He pushed me back onto the shelf, cradling my hips as he pressed against me, needing our kiss to be deeper.

It could’ve been a peck, could’ve been an innocent, chaste moment. But when his tongue swiped at my lower lip I understood that both of us wanted so much more than that.

I opened my mouth, granting his tongue access and gods did it feel good to be explored so fervently by him. He was hungry, like he’d been aching to taste me for years and he wasn’t prepared to give me up anytime soon.

He shifted, kicking my legs wider, and pressed his knee against the apex of my thighs. Every nerve in my body thrummed in reaction, my back arching off the shelf, my chest pushing against his. I needlessly gripped his hair, using all my energy to resist grinding against his leg.

“Az,” I murmur onto his lips, trying to convince myself to pull away but my willpower wasn’t strong enough, because to be honest, the last thing I wanted to do was end this.

“Hm?” He murmurs in reply.

“We’re in public,” I reminded and he nodded, very aware of our surroundings, aware of everything in fact. His shadows were slithering up my torso sporadically. He removed his knee from my core and a soft sigh escaped my lips. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” He whispered, then kissed me gently once more, just a soft peck this time. I was slightly shaky as he pulled away entirely. I nodded, licking my lips and savoring the lingering taste of him.

I turned back to the bookshelf, completely forgetting about the blonde male across the way until an unfamiliar voice spoke from beside me. “Pardon me, can I get by you?” I turned to the sound, finding the blonde male. I froze for a moment. It wasn’t him. I had no idea who this man was. I was so stupid to think someone so wretched from the Hewn City would be here, in the most protected city in the world. I catch myself, quickly peeling my leaden feet from the floor, scooting closer to the shelf so he could pass.

Azriel looks at me, slightly alarmed. “It wasn’t him,” I murmur, and this time my husband’s amusement actually forms into a laugh.

“You just wanted me to kiss you,” He teases and she crinkles her nose in spite.

“It was your idea,” I huffed, stomping away to a separate aisle, far away from him. But he caught me quickly, his arms slinging over my shoulders as he hugged me from behind while I examined a display table of Sellyn Drake's new novel.

After what felt like only another moment my basket was filled and Azriel had paid for each book, making me promise that I’d be surprised when I opened them on Solstice morning.

We stepped back out into the cold, my hand in Azriel’s while his other held my heavy bag of books. I smiled greedily, looking up at him. A gust of wind blew past us and it wiped away my smile, a shiver running down my back as my eyes stung from the cold.

“Come on, let’s go home,” He pulled at my hand and I looked up at him curiously.

“What about Rhys’ present?” I say and he shrugs.

“You’re cold, I’ll find something for Rhys another time,” He proposed and I nodded, squeezing his hand a little tighter and inching closer. I blamed my body for seeking warmth but we both knew that the kiss we shared meant more than we played off.

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[zumaira]

Rajbari Luxury Edit Winter Articles 2022-23

Rajbari Luxury Edit Winter Articles 2022-23

[magazinepk]

Rajbari Luxury Edit Winter Articles 2022-23

Rajbari Luxury Edit Winter Articles 2022-23

[acotarxreader]

Storybook

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Azriel's insecurities of not being good enough for the glowing Dawn emissary that had enveloped his world can't be silenced and erupt at Cassian's birthday party. But can he find his way again into the storybook life he believes you deserve?

Warnings: Angst, silly Azriel, fluff, typos

A/N; A cute lil fic while I mull over the end of Mirror for the thousandth time! Let me know what you guys think! Requests Open!

---------------------------------------

Azriel traced small circles along the base of your spine as you huddled close to his side, the buttery sheets of the gigantic bed swaddling you from the cold. Hazel eyes examined your snoozing state with a loving gaze, Azriel unsure why you spent any time at all with him let alone choosing to be his partner. Doubt swirled across the Spymaster's head, as it often did in the quiet moments when you weren't available to silence them.

As if hearing these very thoughts, your eyes gently fluttered open, a haphazard smile graced your face, his uncertainty faltering on sight. Azriel brushed a stray hair from your face, your own moving from across his abdomen to lace into his, gently pressing a kiss on cracked knuckles as you did so.

“We should get up Az” “You Dawn Court females are such sticklers for punctuality” He laughed down to you, kissing the top of your head before you rolled reluctantly away from the heat to stand and dress, Azriels focus never leaving your movement. You threw his tie back to him, breaking his stare.

“C’mon Az, Cassian won’t like if you miss his birthday because you were ogling at me” “True, he’ll be jealous” You smiled at his reply while he stood to find his discarded clothes across your studio apartment. Azriel found himself slightly struck by the simple contrast of his midnight blue and black suit decorating around your warm pastel environment. Sticking out like a drop of ink on a sundial. He scrunched his face for a moment, fighting through the feelings the visual representation of your differences brought.

Scarred hands locked buttons on his chest back together as he turned to land his eyes on the most beautiful female he could ever imagine. The dress you wore was relatively simple, a long light pink chiffon dress that shimmered in the soft glowing light of the space, its v-neckline and loose sleeves flattering you endlessly. You took no notice of Azriel's awestruck state as you sat at your vanity, plaiting your hair back, a few sneaky strands framing your face. You pinned small golden stars into the tendrils of hair while Azriel crossed the floor to stand behind you. 

“You look radiant YNN” “Not too Dawn Court-” You teased, standing to kiss his cheek “-Not too shabby yourself Shadowsinger” A small blush dashed across his cheeks as he took your hands in his, too Dawn Court, too perfect he thought to himself before winnowing the both of you back to the Night Court. 

-

It was a larger party than originally intended, they always were when Mor was organising them. Azriel sat close to you at the table of his friends in River House, fae flowing from every entrance and exit as the sound of celebrations filled the ancient streets.

You laughed wholeheartedly at Cassian's story of locking Rhysand out of the cabin one winter in nothing but his undergarments, the group's laughter almost as loud as the music. Feyre kissed your cheek lightly before sitting alongside her mate. Azriel thought of how perfectly you had slotted into his world and how he had still struggled to find his flow in Dawn and with your friends. She complimented your dress, it softly shimmering in the surrounding light, contrasting the deep blues, maroons and violets of his beloved city. 

“Az? Hello?” His arm shook gently with your grip, waking him from his trance to look at your grinning face directly again. 

“I’m going to get a drink, want one?” he just gave a small nod, you just laughed before finding your way towards the kitchen area. 

“She’s like a perfect little doll, the ones we played with as children” Feyre laughed, Nesta agreeing.

“Like a damsel from one of our storybooks”

“Yes Elain, Azriel is quite the Prince Charming” Nesta’s sarcasm added to her sister, the group laughing, Azriel forcing a chuckle. As much as they all loved you, they agreed you didn’t exactly fit into the image of fearsome Night Court and would find themselves constantly remarking about the storybook world you came from, to your equal amusement. Azriel not agreeing with its humour, the comments re enforcing a deep-seated fear within him. 

“One day you’ll tell us how you got that drop of sun to co-exist with the shadows Az” “I'll let you know when I find out myself” He painted a smile on his face at Lucien, the group laughing at his jest. You returned to the table with Mor in tow, her arm around your waist as you both laughed, some of Azriel’s drinking splashing over the rim. 

“C’mon, let's dance, we can sit and chat like old boring people tomorrow” 

“Who are you calling old Mor?” Cassian stood in playful defence, slightly wobbly from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed.

“You, you old bat! C’mon let's move those hips while they still work” Her hand took his and pulled him back towards the dancing crowds, you, Nesta and Feyre following happily. It wasn’t long before Lucien and Elain joined the revelry, Rhysand and Azriel watching proudly from their seats. 

“To being old bats” Rhysand tipped the top of his glass off of Azriel’s, both brothers smiling into their drinks. Azriel watched you dance hand in hand with his brother, truly carefree and endlessly happy. 

“I’ve never seen you so happy Az, perhaps we’ll be making more visits to Dawn”

“What do you mean by that?” Azriel tore his smiling face from you to look at his brother. 

“I’m sure YN would rather settle in Dawn, they tend not to stray too far from their Court. Besides you can work from anywhere, but she glows best at home” Rhysand offered with a soft smile before he looked back towards his mate who had taken you from a drunken Cassian.  Azriel felt a small match light near the explosives in his head as the General of the Night Court came almost crashing back to the table, taking Rhysand’s drink from his hand. 

“They’re right, I’m getting old-” He chuckled, sinking back next to his best friends “-I’m going to have to work on my dance moves for your wedding Az” Azriel choked slightly on his drink, his two friends laughing loudly.

“Don’t kill the male Cass” “Oh c’mon, you two have been together for years now, I don’t see you finding much better Az and as for YN, she’ll settle for our best soldier, no prince charmings need apply” He teased. Nesta sat proudly on her mate's lap, reaching for her discarded drink. The match’s flame grew in size.

“YN should be Queen of Prythian, and it not the alcohol talking, I believe it-” She practically slurred, chasing her thirst from dancing away with the wine “-Darcoo might marry her” “Drakon” Rhysand corrected with a laugh, Azriel shuffling ever so slightly in his seat. 

“Whatever, she’s wasted as Dawn’s emissary to the Solar Courts, she should just assume all power of that court, marry one of you silly little High Lords even and ride into the sunset…or I guess sunrise” 

“Ahem” Azriel cleared his throat, Cassian looking apologetic towards him on behalf of his mate as she rolled her eyes and stood again, finishing off the drain of alcohol left in the glass before rejoining the party. Azriel watched you again, head tilted back as you laughed with his dear friends, the room feeling now completely silent, almost moving in slow motion. The match touched the explosives. 

“I know that look” Rhysand’s warning tone was a reaction to Azriel’s knitted eyebrows as he stood suddenly, crossing the dance floor before his brothers could stop him. Azriel moved with the quick precision he normally reserved for missions but he needed out of this now suffocating space. You caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, instinctively following him only slowed by the mass amounts of crowds that Azriel transversed with ease.

Azriel seemed almost drunk in his movement as he reached the cobblestone streets but his thoughts felt stone-cold sober. By the time you had made it to the entrance of the house, Azriel had made it halfway down the street. You called out to him as you ran after him. 

“Hey! You didn’t hear me call you?-” You laughed as you reached his side, your face flushing from the brief bit of exercise “-What’s-what’s wrong?” Your smile faltered at his stony expression as it landed on you. 

“I-I just need to go-go for walk” “Okay cool, I’ll come with you, let me borrow a throw from Feyre and-” “NO” Azriel’s voice uncharacteristically got away from him and it startled you, instantly causing guilt to pace through him. You moved to take his hand from his side, only to see him tuck it into his pocket before reaching your touch, you took a small step back from him at the movement, laughing lightly with your own rising panic as you asked - 

“What?” “You don’t belong with me walking around the Night Court” “Don’t be silly Az, we walk all the time tog-” “No YN, you’re not listening to me, you don’t belong in the Night Court” he looked away from you again, fixating on a crooked stone in his path.

“What do you mean?” You quickly exchanged scared for offended, tucking your arms across your chest.

“I mean….I mean look around YN! You don’t fit in here! It’s like the sun trying to blend in with the shadows!”

“Az, what does that even mean?! You’re being ridiculous!” you shot back, standing in front of him to block him from walking away from the argument he had nightmares about every night. 

“It means that you've got this fairytale and it's just not mine!”

“Why can't it be ours?!” Your own voice was beginning to rise, some passing fae throwing side eye glances. 

“It-it just cant be! I think- I think it's time we say goodbye YN and I think deep down you agree”

“Az-I- What?! I don’t understand?! what did I do-” your shaking voice was cutting at Azriel as you continued “-I-I need you!”

“I don’t know why” His cold tone washed over your skin, freezing it on contact as he looked down to you, glazing his face over with an expression he usually reserved for his work.

“Becau-se because I love you Azriel” Your voice finally broke under the immense weight of heartbreak as you verbalised your first confession of love, making Azriel flinch slightly. He took a weighted breath through his mouth before biting down on his tongue, allowing the silence to fill the street in what he believed was mercy. 

“Don’t-don’t you love me too?” Your eyes were defeated by the charging fears and Azriel found his own glossy eyes fixed on yours. He bit down more harshly, drawing the blood of your heartbreak. He knew this would finish you off and it did. You took a big deep breath, trying to collect whatever possible composure you could before dragging a manicured hand across your face. Your tears were free-flowing now as you winnowed out of the street, Azriel’s whole body slumping forward as you disappeared. 

—------------------

“You absolute fucking asshole!” Mor threw a discarded book from the coffee table at Azriel who sat, head in hands on the couch of the Town House. Rhysand paced almost the length of the house trying to comprehend what Azriel had confessed, a week after its occurrence. 

“I just thought you two were off screwing but instead you were just screwing up!” Rhysand agreed with Cassian, scolding Azriel like a small child as he towered above his brother.

“You fucked up Az” Feyre sighed across from him as she watched her mate cease his pacing.

“But I didn't! It's what's best for YN! She wasn't fitting into this stupid fucking world”

“Except she was! You big idiot!” Mor hurled another book at the broken-hearted male, which he bearly dodged as he sat back into the plush couch.

“You don't get it, I did it for her best interest”

“Oh yes because brokenhearted and confused is much better for her than happy and in love!”  Cassian caught Mor’s arm before she could grab another weapon. 

“Az, fix it” Rhysand ordered, sinking next to his mate, their hands instantly lacing together.

“I fixed it by ending it! Now she can go off and be happy and live the picket fence dream in Dawn that she deserves!” Azriel stood suddenly, anger bellowing from him as his shadows swam lazily around the floor, unable to find life since the incident.

He moved with heavy steps to the window, looking out onto the stage of your battlefield. His family all shared knowing glances, deciding to proceed with caution. Mor stood and caught Azriel by surprise, dragging him into her for a hug. His figure practically swallowed her petite stature and yet he found himself resting the majority of his weight down her, tears finally winning their battle on the shadowsinger and free flowing from his eyes. Cassian placed a hand on his brother's back before joining the huddle, helping Mor to support Azriel’s heartbroken weight. 

“This is so stupid” Azriel let out a little laugh through weak tears, quickly wiping them from his face while pulling back from the huddle. 

“C’mon Az, let's go get your storybook ending” Rhysand smiled, placing a gentle hand on his and Cassian’s shoulder before winnowing them away from the Court of Dreams. 

-

Azriel stood outside the gate of your house, his eyes wandering up the manicured path, flowers leaking from every crevice. Rhysand and Cassian had agreed to make themselves scarce while he spoke to you, taking themselves on a walk around the neighbourhood.

Azriel cleared his lungs of air before taking shaky steps up the steps to your door, marred knuckles gently rapping off of the solid oak. After a moment, you opened the door smiling, only to have it drop from your face again as you tried to close the door, Azriel stretching his foot to block its path. 

“YNN, I need to talk to you” “I’m busy Azriel” Your sharp tone contrasted harshly against his sheepish one. 

“Please, give me two minutes” He stepped back, gesturing you to follow him to the porch steps where he sank into the wood. You sighed, looking back into your house and back to Azriel’s silhouette again. You joined his side, keeping some distance between the both of you as you sat. 

“Okay so firstly you look beautiful and-”

“I'm only giving you two minutes Azriel” You warned.

“Right right sorry. Okay I broke up with you because we are just from such fundamentally different worlds and-”

“-this doesn't sound like an apology” You knotted your arms deeper into your chest.

“Well I mean it's kind of not-” You went to stand only to be pulled back down again before you could escape him again “-because it's why I fell for you in the first place, it's why we work, you're so not who I pictured myself with and that makes you beyond perfect, I just didn't want to ruin perfect, I ruin everything, case in point. Us”

“Az-” “-I need to explain myself please, I just I really love you and that-that is why we can’t be together, the things I love get ruined, I’ll ruin you” He admitted quietly, looking down on the flowers in the garden again as your soft eyes traced the outline of his side profile.

“Azriel, I love you and you could never ruin me and I’ve never thought you would, you’re not capable of hurting me on purpose….well except that little scene at Cassian’s birthday party” You found a small genuine laugh leave you, a surprising smile growing on Azriel’s face for the first time in a week. 

“Yeah I fucked up”

“At least you know you fucked up” You laced your fingers through his the way he adored and he found his eyes landing on yours once again.

“So you're perfectly happy being with someone imperfect? No storybook ending?” You nudged him for his words and then nodded before meeting him in a sweet kiss.

“The only story I want to be in is yours”

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Whatcha think?

[the1920sinpictures]

From the 1922-23 Winter collection of French designers Callot Soeurs, this remarkable piece of clothing, which I can only guess was meant as a tea dress (which was a cut above lingerie and meant to be worn either alone while resting or as a hostess gown when entertaining lady visitors) is of silk chiffon over a lining of off-white satin, with gold metallic trim. From Fashion of Bygone Days, FB.

[zegalba]

Junya Watanabe: polyester-chiffon ruff collar, detail of a dress from the Autumn/ Winter 2000-2001

[thebettybook]

｡ The Great Union That Defies All Odds ｡

💐: My entry for the @briarvalleyarchives “Wedding Day” event

💐: As wedding bells chime in June for the Fairy Gala’s Fairy Queen and her fiancé the Fairy Lord of Winter, Leona and gn!reader join hands in coming up with a wedding dress design for the Fairy Queen.

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Strawbetty’s notes:

🍓 Characters: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader. Leona and gn!reader are in an established romantic relationship.

🍓 Warning: This fic contains spoilers from the Fairy Gala Remix: Operation Illusive Evolution event.

🍓 Song rec: In this fic, I included some lyrics from “The Great Divide” by The McClain Sisters, which is a total bop and I highly recommend listening to it!

🍓 Other notes: Text borders used from the website Cute Kaomoji

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ꕥ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ⑅﹤୨♡୧﹥⑅ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꕥ

You tossed a crumpled ball of white mixed media paper over your shoulder unceremoniously for the umpteenth time that afternoon. Your eyes trailed to the glass window panes on the stone walls of NRC’s spacious attic-turned-elective classroom studio as you noted the spring sky’s robin-egg-blue hue dotted with wispy ivory clouds.

Around you stood adjustable dress forms draped with haphazard fabrics of students’ unfinished projects. Next to the dress forms were rectangular sewing tables with ruby pin cushions, cream sewing machines, and sewing threads of every color of the rainbow that were more than enough for fabled sewing mice to use.

Sigh. You turned your attention back to your mixed media sketchbook, flipping to a new page and tapping your pencil against it. I could use some fabled sewing mice to help me come up with a wedding dress design idea right now.

Your final assignment for Fashion Design class (a new elective class at NRC taught by Crewel) was to sketch a wedding dress design for the Fairy Queen, ruler of the Faeland’s fairies who held the recent Fairy Gala event in NRC’s Botanical Garden.

Ever since Ace, Jack, Ortho, and Silver were discovered by the fae at the event, the Fairy Queen grew enamored by their Fairy Gala outfits designed by Crewel. After the Fairy Gala, the Queen’s representatives sought out Crewel and asked him via translator bell to design a wedding dress for the Queen’s upcoming wedding to the Fairy Lord of Winter.

Crewel, who usually never turned down a challenge or opportunity related to fashion, thought this was an opportunity better suited for his Fashion Design students’ final assignments instead. The student whose sketch design gained the highest marks would be chosen to bring their wedding dress design to life with Crewel’s help. Crewel also emphasized the addition of extra credit points for the student whose sketch design would be chosen.

You didn’t want to pass up the chance to gain extra credit points to boost your overall GPA at NRC. Plus, it wasn’t everyday that one got to design a wedding dress for a Fairy Queen. What you didn’t anticipate, however, was that you’d have problems coming up with a wedding dress design in the first place.

There were just so many options when it came to wedding dress silhouettes, fabrics, and more. Puff sleeves? Tight sleeves? A ballgown skirt? A trumpet skirt? Chiffon? Lace? Tulle??

You wracked your brain, finding it difficult to commit to an idea when there were so many possibilities—the possibilities, not unlike the length of a wedding veil, were endless. Even all the episodes of “Say Yes to the Fairy Godmother’s Dress,” a bridal reality TV series you enjoyed watching with Cater, couldn’t help you think of an idea.

Instead of saying “yes” to a wedding dress idea, your head was filled with “no”’s to all your ideas. You let out another sigh and plopped your pencil down onto the sketchbook. Your eyes shifted to all the crumpled pieces of paper on the floor. I should clean this up.

Littering wasn’t helping you come up with any ideas either, so you decided to give yourself a teeny break and went over to pick up the three crumpled-up paper balls that laid a few feet away from your sewing table. You crouched down, your lips parting to hum a random song that just came to mind.

“Oi,” a voice called to you at the door, making you forget what song you were going to hum. Your eyes shot up to see Leona leaning against the door frame with his ever-so-smug smirk. Rather than one hand propped on his hip as usual, both of his arms bulged with two packaged sandwiches, various snacks, and two carton drinks from the Dining Hall.

You could tell that the smugness of his smirk came from how proud Leona was that he got lunch for the two of you on his own from the Dining Hall rather than Ruggie doing so, even if Leona overdid it a bit.

“Leona,” your face lit up at the sight of him nonetheless, and especially at the sight of lunch. Leona set down all the food at the nearest table, making his way over to you.

Bending down on one knee, Leona picked up all three balls of paper for you. “What’s got you litterin’ like there’s no tomorrow?” The lion beastman raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into an amused smile as he stood up and threw the paper balls into a nearby recycling bin.

“Uuugh, I can’t think of a wedding dress to design for the life of me.” You joined Leona in grabbing all the food off the table before both making your way to your sewing table. He settled onto the wooden stool next to yours, his knees brushing against yours.

Leona’s emerald orbs settled on the blank paper of your drawing pad. “A wedding dress?” His fingers swiftly unfolded the sand-colored sandwich wrapping paper of a menchi katsu sandwich while you opened a (your favorite meat/veggie/filling) sandwich. The crinkles of the wrapping papers added to your chatting with Leona, making the classroom seem livelier despite it being just the two of you. “Who’s getting married?”

“The Fairy Queen from the Fairy Gala,” you tapped your pencil against your cheek while you held your sandwich in another hand. “She’s getting married to the Fairy Lord of Winter from a neighboring kingdom in a few weeks. She comes from a land of warmth, while he comes from a land of frost. They met last winter and fell in love despite all odds, so the theme Crewel gave us is ‘The Great Union That Defies All Odds.’ But how can I put that into a wedding dress?”

“‘The Great Union That Defies All Odds,’ huh?” Leona sipped his earl grey milk tea box, his thin dark-brown eyebrows knitting together as he pondered over the theme. “To me, that sounds like the impossible being possible.”

You paused your pencil midway before the pencil’s charcoal tip could land on the page. “Wait, you’re onto something,” you set the pencil down on the page and munched on your sandwich. “The Fairy Queen embodies spring, while the Fairy Lord of Winter embodies winter…You’d think nothing could bloom in winter, like their love, but it’s possible. Just like flowers that bloom in winter!”

Without a word, Leona pulled out his sleek ebony smartphone from his school uniform pants pocket and typed “flowers that bloom in winter” into MagiGoogle with one hand while still holding his sandwich in his other hand. You scooted on your stool closer to Leona, your shoulder touching his as the two of you scrolled down a list on MagiGoogle of all the flowers in Twisted Wonderland that bloomed in winter.

“Leucojum, camellias…,” you read the list aloud, none of them screaming “wedding” to you yet. “Wait!”

Leona paused his finger on the smartphone screen. “Did something in the list catch your eye?”

You nodded, leaning in closer to his smartphone screen. “Ornamental cabbage…it says here that the colors of ornamental cabbage grow more intense as the weather grows colder…which could be PERFECT for the ‘The Great Union That Defies All Odds’ theme!”

“I could use the ornamental cabbage as the main material for the Queen’s wedding dress, and have the colors be more vivid at the skirt of the dress like a gradient…,” your voice trailed off as you thought of possible wedding dress design ideas with ornamental cabbage. You finished off your sandwich with a hearty bite, now energized to start designing a wedding dress.

Leona lifted an eyebrow, but his lips quirked into a loving smile at your creativity. “Gotta tell you, herbivore, you know I’m not surprised by many things. But an ornamental cabbage wedding dress takes the cake. The wedding cake, heh.”

“Haha, you’re so punny.” You lovingly rolled your eyes at Leona, who simply winked at you and resumed eating his sandwich. “But now that I’m saying it out loud, ornamental cabbage might not be fitting enough for a queen’s wedding dress. It’s a good start for brainstorming, though.”

Leona finished his sandwich, dabbing a napkin against the corners of his mouth. “Why don’t ‘cha go with camellias? They symbolize romantic love, adoration, devotion, and care,” Leona listed off the symbolism of camellias as if remembering flower language and symbolism were the most casual things in the world.

Those who didn’t know Leona well would never guess that he was well-versed in flower language and symbolism. It was one of those well-hidden hobbies or topics of interest of Leona’s that he shared with you over time, and it added to one of the many things you loved about Leona: his love for the knowledge of topics that related to nurturing the world.

To Leona’s surprise, you brought your right hand up to rest it on top of his left hand—the hand you wanted to hold while you walked through life with Leona. “That sounds perfect.”

Leona slouched in his stool and nuzzled his cheek against the side of your head. His eyelids drooped as the daffodil-yellow afternoon sunlight danced through the glass panes of the classroom windows, adding to the warmth that embraced Leona with your hand on his.

You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes to enjoy the moment as well. The fact that it was just you and Leona in the room, with comfortable silence now between you two as you basked in each other’s company, made a melody bloom from your mouth.

“Mm, mmm, mmm, mm,” You began humming the melody of the song you were going to hum before Leona came in. It was a song known throughout Twisted Wonderland about bringing all species—no matter how great the odds were—together.

Leona’s lion ears flicked at your humming as your lips parted.

“I’m on your side, let’s take this ride.”

Your singing voice possessed a softness to it, yet the lyrics you sang were loud enough for Leona’s ears and heart to hear.

“And together we’re facing the world, doing things nobody’s done before.”

With your right hand still on Leona’s left hand, you used your thumb to draw circles across the somewhat-dry skin of his hand. Your thumb moved upwards to massage his fingers—first his pinky, and then his ring finger.

Before you could massage his other fingers, Leona flipped his hand up so that his palm faced yours, and he intertwined his fingers with yours. His fingers wasted no time in giving yours a firm yet gentle squeeze. The lyrics you sang made Leona think about you—how he too wanted to hold your hand while walking through life with you.

It was your hands, with always the most loving and caring of even the smallest of touches, that helped him gain the courage to want to care for his own life—from the days where you would brush away a crumb from the corner of his mouth with the back of your thumb, to the nights where you would thread your fingers through his mane during the rare times he had trouble falling asleep.

It was those touches from your hands that motivated him to bring to surface and share with you and others his interests, passions, and just anything genuine that Leona thought he had given up hope for or thought he kept hidden painfully well for a long time now.

Because why nurture anything in an endless winter of being overlooked and compared to, with none of his achievements or even actions mattering for as long as he could remember?

His endless winter wasn’t endless anymore, replaced by the blooms of Leona sharing his passions and interests with others (such as teaching you about flower language and symbolism or about the stars, or spending more time with his Magift Club teammates by watching Pro Magift games with them) that led to his experiences over the past year at NRC with those he could now confidently call his loved ones.

While being each other’s most significant loved ones, you and Leona weren’t perfect, and the two of you had your fair share of squabbles from time to time. At the end of any squabble, however, the two of you would always communicate, take each other’s hands, and choose to be part of each other’s lives.

Leona cracked his eyes open, taking in the view that was your hand in his. It was your hands, soft and warm as spring, that never failed to make Leona feel safe, loved, and supported. He wanted his hands to make you feel the same way for the rest of your life.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes only a few minutes later was Leona admiring your hand in his. When his eyes shifted to meet yours, you returned his squeeze with your own before gently prying your fingers away from his. “I should get started on my drawing.” You wanted to keep sitting there with your hand in Leona’s, but the lunch period was probably ending soon.

Propping his right elbow up on the table, Leona rested his cheek against his palm and watched you etch light charcoal lines onto your paper.

A low hum rose from his throat. “Mm mm mm mmn.” The light scratches of your pencil against the paper created an odd harmony with his low humming, but your smile at his humming encouraged Leona to keep going.

In a near whisper, he sang the same lyrics you sang to him just moments ago in his baritone singing voice that never failed to soothe you.

“I’m on your side, let’s take this ride.”

To Leona, the lyrics sounded like a marriage proposal disguised in a song. He wondered if you thought that, too, with the way the song came to your mind earlier in the midst of coming up with a wedding dress design for the Fairy Queen.

“The Great Union That Defies All Odds.” It was the theme that symbolized the Fairy Queen and the Fairy Lord of Winter’s love story, but the theme made Leona reflect on your and his love story.

The love story of a human from a magic-less world and a lion beastman from a magic-filled world, where they experience adventures and chaos practically every day on the campus of NRC.

No matter what life threw at you and Leona everyday, the two of you chose to stay by each other’s side.

Hand-in-hand, through it all.

Leona cracked a grin while singing when you parted your lips to join him.

“And together we’re facing the world, doing things nobody’s done before.”

If his relationship with you wasn’t a great union that defies all odds, Leona didn’t know what was.

ꕥ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ⑅﹤୨♡୧﹥⑅ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꕥ

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Important:

🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.

🍓 Reblogs are appreciated :). Want more Leona romance fluff? Check out my masterlist

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[curiositydooropened]

My Whole Life, Too

Seven years after you've left Hawkins, a beautiful day for a wedding in New Mexico brings up old feelings. You're hoping to make the most of it with the comfort of best friends.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader, previous Steve Harrington x Reader

Wordcount: 8,419

Warnings: smut & smut adjacent (minors DNI, thanks!), angst, lots of gushy friendship talk, weddings, drinking, mentions of drugs and cigarettes, so much guilt, Steve Harrington slander, lovin' both the boys, fluff, oh and Jancy

Navigation • Masterlist

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January 1994 - Albuquerque, NM

The pale blue chiffon of your dress wrinkled in the car, and your mouth tasted of wax from when the peachy pink lipstick clipped your teeth and smeared over your chin a few minutes earlier. You’d scrubbed at it with a wet forefinger, scrutinizing your reflection in an oblong mirror beside the gift table, but you couldn’t help but lick at your front two teeth self-consciously.

You ankles ached under your weight in your new heels, and each burst of winter, mountain air prickled the stubble beneath your nylons, but you were rooted to your spot in the lobby, nearest the guest book, making eye contact with each and every wedding guest as they entered through the chapel doors. 

So far, several little old ladies in lace collared dresses eyed you up, and several families with too-many kids stumbled in from the cold. You hadn’t seen a familiar face since you arrived, and you couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse.

From this vantage, you could barely see out into the parking lot, where snow was packed along the curve and inside oversized planters and the afternoon sun was just starting to dip low beneath the mountains, kissing everything in golds and roses. It was a beautiful day for a wedding.

Three teenagers entered, all three of them ducked over handheld video games, and just beyond you saw the swoosh of impeccable brown hair. Your heart thundered in your ears, mouth gone fully dry. You flattened clammy hands to the midsection of your dress and stood at full height to greet Steve Harrington.

Though, suddenly all of your rehearsed greetings had flown out of your mind. The only thing you could think of were the last things he said to you, the hurt blurring those big doe eyes, his mouth slightly agape, his fingertips grasping at your t-shirt as you released his shoulders and said goodbye. Well those things and Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love, which had been playing on loop in this little lobby since you’d arrived.

A woman excused you out of her elbow-range as she signed the guestbook, sending you a little off-kilter and almost into a stunning satin-decked wreath, but you managed to catch yourself on the windowsill, cooling your palms as your prints came back fogged over. You ran a chilled hand over your face and released a breath you’d been holding for minutes and hoped to God this wasn’t a dry wedding.

That’s when you heard the familiar scold of a best friend. “Eddie, top-button. Robin, no more singing. Honestly, how old are you two?”

Nancy Wheeler entered looking tighter-wound than she was a month ago, when you’d last seen her. Her bangs were cut short, hair black, thin fingers busying themselves with Eddie Munson’s bolo tie. Eddie looked miffed by the action, like a school boy embarrassed by his mom, but he daren’t move a muscle lest he get smacked. Beside them, Robin Buckley adjusted a tie of her own, flattened the lapels of her velvet blazer against her chest. 

And it was just them, just the three, alone in the entryway, Nancy fussing over their appearances before perfectly manicured nails went to ensure her oversized earrings were still clipped to her lobes. You glanced around one last time for Steve, but found a parking lot full of old people and void of any handsome young men whose hearts you’d broken. With a deep breath, and a clench of your shaking fists, you took a step toward them.

“Hey, strangers.” 

Robin let out a shriek that sent a pen flying from gasps at the guest book, and when Nancy shushed her, she snickered and wrapped her long arms around you to breathe a greeting into your ear, all clove cigarettes and patchouli. “Hey, stunner. Missed you.” 

“You too,” you smiled and let her rock you into her hug. You were almost her height in your heels.

She released you, her hair sticking to your lipstick, and you reached out to melt the wax off the strands with your fingertips. 

“Have you seen him?” Nancy asked, slipping in between you to give you the tightest hug you’d ever received. 

Your heart jolted a little in alarm, glancing over her head to the parking lot beyond. Still no Steve. When you pulled away, you noticed Nancy stood on the toes of her own high heels, stretched to get a good view of the chapel behind you, and you realized she wasn’t talking about the same person. “I’m sure Jonathan’s getting ready with the other groomsmen. He hasn’t been out this way.” 

Nancy’s gaze met yours then, a harsh glare in blue, but you saw the fear in her eyes, wondered if your stare mimicked her own. She squeezed your forearm and shrugged, as though she could care less, as though she didn’t sit in your apartment last month downing glasses of wine and confessing her and Jonathan had had a Thanksgiving tryst for the first time in seven years. “Oh well,” she nodded toward the hall where the guests had begun to funnel. “Shall we?” 

Another gust of wind fanned your hair, ruffled your skirt, and you glanced one last time at the nearly vacant lot before a scraggly head of hair blurred your view. You blinked until Eddie’s smile came into focus, head tilted to meet your gaze. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You breathed a nervous laugh and allowed his arms to envelope you in a hug. He was warm and a little damp under the arms, but distinctly Eddie, all murmured chuckles and cigarette smoke. But with your face buried into his hair, you sensed something else that made your heart stop, something familiar, something Steve.

“How long’s it been? Two years?” He asked, pulling away. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and you noticed the purple scarring that etched his throat, just beyond too tight of a collar. He must have seen your gaze, because he reached up to unbutton the top button and loosen the tie, two strands of leather and a carved silver demon’s face. You snorted.

“Yeah, just about.” The last time you’d seen Eddie had been on a New Years ski trip to the Harrington’s time share. Your memories of that trip were fogged with White Russians and too much time in a hot tub. You remembered Eddie’s bare ass, stark white, when he’d been dared to make a snow angel.

“You look beautiful as ever,” he flashed you those sharp canines. 

“You don’t clean up bad yourself,” you smiled, though his compliment had fallen a bit on deaf ears. You hadn’t dressed up for him. 

“Hey, don’t sound so shocked.” He scoffed, adjusting the lapels of an old blazer. It looked a bit small for his shoulders, a bit tight, and you swallowed. Maybe that’s why he smelled of Steve, maybe he’d borrowed it.

A groan sounded from behind you, and you pulled your attention from Eddie’s shoulders to see Nancy impatiently tapping her clutch to her hip, just outside the chapel door. She gestured for the two of you to hurry, and you felt Eddie’s hand on the small of your back to follow you inside. 

Robin had already shuffled into a pew near the back and was thumbing through a hymn book. Nancy shoved you out of the way before shuffling in beside her. 

“Wheeler said Robin and I aren’t allowed to sit next to each other,” Eddie mumbled just over your right ear, and you snorted before pulling yourself into the seat beside Nancy. He followed.

She snatched the hymn book out of Robin’s hand and tucked it back in its pocket. “Could you sit still for like two seconds?” 

“Could you?” Robin snapped. “Jesus, Nance, how much coke did you do this morning?” 

Appalled, Nancy shushed her. You snickered. Eddie wrapped his arm over your shoulder to lean in. “You have coke? And you aren’t sharing?” 

“I knew I should have left you in Hawkins,” she reached past you to tighten his tie again.

You leaned back against his arm to make eye contact with with Robin, who flashed you a goofy grin, and for just a moment, you felt at peace. You didn’t need Steve to fall back into the chaos of this friendship. You didn’t need stolen moments of romance, you needed Robin’s raspy laughter and Nancy’s neurosis to keep you grounded, to remind you why you agreed to go in the first place.

“So how are you?” Robin asked, propping her elbow to the back of pew. 

Eddie reached his fingers to tickle her, and you smiled, shrugged.

“Heard you had a good time in Louisville,” she waggled her eyebrows and your heart sank to your knees. 

“Robin,” Nancy hissed. She knew the whole story, from your perspective. You’d gone to Louisville for a conference, invited Steve to join you for the weekend, didn’t expect him to say what he’d said, to request what he did. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to Robin about it. You should have known Steve would get to her first. 

“Steve says he’s sorry he couldn’t make it, by the way,” Eddie pitched in from beside you. 

You felt your entire body heat with embarrassment, and you turned to face a Cheshire grin. Did everyone know?

“Jesus Fuck, you two!” Nancy squealed, and a woman in front of you turned to shush you all loudly, covering the ears of a little boy. 

With a groan, you buried your face in your hands and accepted the squeeze and shake of Eddie’s arm around your shoulder, the vibration of his chuckle against your right arm. 

Nancy’s apology was cut short by the chime of the organ, and the shuffle of guests in their seats. You craned to see the minister at the podium, a man with a swoosh of brown hair that had you letting out a frustrated exhale. He wouldn’t be here, but apparently he’d haunt you.

The groom entered first, linked arms with his mother, and you almost didn’t recognize him. Argyle was tightly pressed into a handsome sky blue tuxedo, luxurious hair pulled back into a low pony tail. A handlebar mustache traced his upper lip, and you half-expected it to fall off when he bent down to plant a kiss to his mother’s cheek. She was crying already.

“If it’s any consolation, he told me he was staying home in solidarity with Dustin,” came a whisper to your temple. 

“What?” You turned to see Eddie frowning back to you, face the most serious you’d seen it in years. 

Eddie nodded sideways to the bridesmaids and groomsmen that had begun to file in two-by-two, arms linked and sleeves ruffled. You watched head after head of beautiful brunette women glide by in lavender. “Since Dustin and Suzie broke up.” Eddie explained into your hair.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he didn’t shave for his best friend’s wedding.” Nancy scoffed under her breath beside you. 

Jonathan stood beside Argyle, warm smile stretched across his boyish features, just beneath the ghost of a mustache. It was clear he couldn’t quite grow one like the groom, tried as he might. He looked more like a French waiter in baby blue. You watched his eyes scan the crowd, and saw the smile widen when he spotted the four of you, and you joined Eddie in waggling your fingers his direction.

“Stop it,” Nancy snapped beside you, and you dropped your hand to your lap reflexively. 

You felt Eddie’s chuckle beside you again, warm, welcome. You turned to flash him a smile, and he winked. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise.” The minister announced, and you all shuffled your bags to your seats to stand. 

You wobbled a little, sandwiched tightly between Nancy and Eddie, and you groped for his hand for balance until his grasp tightened around yours, firm and unyielding, another safe space.

The music changed tempo, and the organ sounded the first few chords of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love. You heard humming in front of you, felt the thrumming of fingers against the back of your hand, and you smiled at your friends’ inability to keep quiet. A few notes in, the bride entered. 

Eden was a vision in white, hidden beneath a massive veil and more rhinestones than you’d ever seen. She waltzed in on her father’s arm, a portly man who looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon. He also donned a mustache. The detail made you smile, made you think of your own father, made you imagine yourself slow-stepping to the alter.

“Shit,” Nancy hissed from behind you, and you glanced to see her mopping at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. You laughed and were glad to see Robin reaching around to envelope Nancy in a side hug.

Nancy didn’t do well at weddings. Not since her almost nuptials four years ago in Boston. She’d been a month out, crying mascara stains into steamed linens while you and Robin called florists and caterers and DJs. Pete was a nice guy, but he wasn’t the one. She couldn’t be the hard-hitting journalist she was with a mousy man like him under her thumb. It was right to set him free, and she knew it. 

You knew the feeling. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, and the minister asked for you all to be seated. 

Eddie released your hand and slung his arm over your shoulders again to jostle Nancy. She sniffled and patted his hand. You gave a squeeze to the soft skin of her knee where her skirt split and exposed her nylons. 

“This better not be a dry wedding,” she muttered under her breath, and you laughed at the reflection of your own thoughts while the minister began reciting scriptures about love. 

—

You made it through the ceremony and down to the reception hall relatively unscathed, catching up with old friends and grateful to find many men behind an open bar. In fact, you were a whole three bites into your salad (and one glass of champagne in) before Eleven mentioned his name. 

“Where’s Steve?” 

A cherry tomato evaded your fork and bounced off rose colored linens. 

“Back in Hawkins like a loser,” Robin explained, crunching down on a crouton.

You tried and failed to do anything but stare at the food on your plate. 

“You guys are living together, right Eddie?” Will asked from across the table.

That caught your attention. You gaze shot to Eddie, who was already watching you, a sheepish look across wolfish features. He nodded and tongued at something in his molars, reaching for the beer bottle in front of him. “Uh, yeah. Since June.” He sipped. You watched the bubbles fizz in the amber liquid.

You supposed it had been an easy detail to miss in Louisville, what with all of the other ludicrous things Steve had spouted. 

“Get any time in the bathroom?” Mike snickered behind his own beer. 

Eddie smiled, shrugged. “Not really, but hey, beats paying out my ass in rent. You of all people should know that teachers don’t make dick for a salary, and turns out, neither do janitors, so…” He glanced sideways at you again before turning back to the salad in front of him. 

“Yeah, but I have a girlfriend who works for the government,” Mike concluded, tugging Eleven tighter under his arm. She rolled her eyes, but seemed pleased to belong to someone. 

You felt your own cheeks heat, and you went back to staring at your plate.

“Gross,” Robin managed between mouthfuls. 

“Are you and Steve…?” Eleven started, and panic rose in your chest, constricting your airflow, until you looked up and realized the girl was asking Eddie. He nearly choked on his own tomato, slamming his fist to his chest while Robin barked a laugh that stirred the attention of several tables nearby. 

“No, no,” Eddie wheezed, taking a chug of his beer. His hair shook around his face, and you noticed the shy smile building on the corners of his lips. “No, I’m not exactly Harrington’s type.” 

“Too emotionally available?” Nancy snipped from beside her brother. You shot her wide eyes, and she just shrugged, forking her own crouton between thin lips. Champagne made her bitchy. 

“Alright, enough about Dingus. He isn’t even here to defend himself.” Robin sighed, taking a sip from her own flute. 

You felt Eddie’s arm drape over the back of your chair again, the warmth of him mixing with the champagne that had begun to tingle the apples of your cheeks. “What about you, Robin? Any prospects?”

She sighed from your other side. “I have been talking to a girl in the Peace Corps.” There was trepidation to her tone.

“…but?” 

She glanced your direction and flashed a cheeky grin. “I, too, am into emotionally unavailable women.”

You picked up your rogue tomato and tossed her direction. She squawked and dodged it, and it rolled somewhere far off to be squished beneath a heel or kicked across the dance floor. 

“Hey, guys!” A cheerful greeting announced Jonathan’s arrival, and the man placed his hands on his younger brother’s broad shoulders. The table chorused a “Hello, Jonathan,” in greeting. Everyone but Nancy, you noticed. You made eyes at her, and she shot you a dirty look. 

“Dig the mustache, dude,” Eddie grinned, and you held back a snicker as Jonathan’s eyebrows raised.

He brought a hand up to scratch at the atrocity, and you noticed his gaze flicker toward Nancy. She remained stoic and focused on her first course. “Yeah? Argyle wanted us all to have a stache. He thought it’d be cool for pictures or something.”

“Yeah, man. It’s sick. I’ve been thinking about growing one myself,” Eddie scratched at the smooth skin above his upper lip, silver rings glinting in the center piece’s candlelight. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were before, supple beneath a broad nose. He’d arrived clean shaven, boyish face carved away in harsh edges since you were kids. Now he was all strong jaw and defined cheekbones and full lips, a sparkle in his brown eyes. 

You must have made a face because he flashed you his canines again. “What? You don’t think so?” 

You shrugged. “I think it’d throw off your,” you gestured to his being with your champagne flute. “Vibe.” 

“Yeah,” Robin nodded. “Too Mercury. You’re much more of a Brian May.” 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just compare me to the members of Queen,” Eddie grimaced and lifted his bottle to clink rims with your glass.

“Shit, that reminds me. I have to make a toast.” Jonathan groped for the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out folded pieces of paper. 

“Where are the bride and groom?”

You all glanced around. The happy couple seemed to be anywhere but the close quarters of the reception hall. 

“I believe they’re consummating their vows,” Jonathan flashed a shy smile. 

Eddie clinked his glass to yours again, and you laughed before taking another sip. Will, Mike, and Eleven groaned. 

“Cheers to the happy couple.” Robin raised her own glass, which again drew the attention from several tables. 

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Guess I better find them. I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?” And you waved him off. He left with the soft graze of his hand to Nancy’s shoulder. When you met her gaze, you notice her face had flushed a deep pink, and she fought back a smile with an eye roll.

—

The band tapped out the rhythm to a soft jazz tune for all the happy old couples in the room, and Mike and Eleven. You watched her curly head pressed to his gangly chest and wondered if that ought to have been you. If things were different, if you hadn’t have panicked, if Steve had showed. You could still smell him, close, warm, a ghost that lingered. 

With a sigh, you opened your eyes back to the harsh lighting and glanced sideways at Eddie’s jacket on the chair beside you. You were tempted to check the inner pocket, to look for some sort of monogram, proof that it was Steve’s. Eddie had slipped out the side door with the bride and groom and the Byers boys. He mentioned something about a wedding present, and flashed you the fattest joint you’d seen in years.

 You resisted the pull of the jacket and sipped from your water glass, a vain attempt to curb the steadfast champagne hangover.

“Will that ever be me?” Nancy lamented from beneath her own champagne flute, sunk back into her chair with slumped shoulders and crossed arms, far past the rigidity of the afternoon. Glazed eyes stared longingly onto the dance floor. Robin warmed her bicep with a soft hand. 

“Of course it will, Nance,” you sat forward in your chair to comfort her. “You’re brilliant and beautiful, and you’ll make someone the perfect wife someday.” 

She offered the softest smile on the corners of her pink lips. 

“After all, you’re emotionally available,” you compared with a pointed finger. 

Robin groaned and took another sip of her drink, something chock full of cherries. “Both of you are catches, damnit, and I will not sit here and let you talk shit about my friends in this way.” She prodded each of you until smiles cracked on all three of your faces and you let out soft laughs. 

The song ended in a burst of applause from dancers who shared sweet kisses and evacuated the dance floor. Mike and Eleven approached with blushed cheeks and smiles they couldn’t wipe off their faces, and the next song really picked up its tempo. Eleven found her seat again, but Mike stood beside his sister with an outstretched hand.

“Come on, Nance. I’m sick of watching you get bitchier and bitchier.” He offered with that signature Wheeler smirk.

“Fuck off,” Nancy shot, but she gripped his fingers and allowed him to pull her to the dance floor. 

You watched them with a laugh until you felt a hand wrap around the backside of you chair. Robin had leaned closer. She watched you with sad eyes, big and blue, something mischievous in them. “What?” You narrowed your gaze. 

“Steve’s an idiot.” She commented easily, as though his name didn’t feel like a direct hit every time. 

You sighed. “Robin.” 

“No, I’m serious. He’s cocky, and he’ll never learn. Of course you weren’t going to uproot your life for him.” 

You sucked in your cheeks to avoid the panic slamming behind your ribcage. Steve had told her everything, and for some reason, you felt like a bad friend from keeping it from her. Maybe you worried she’d take his side. 

“And he’s not here because he’s a chicken. So there’s no reason you shouldn’t be having any fun.” She pried the water glass from your hand and set it beside your empty flute. “Can’t feel hungover if you keep drinking.” 

You laughed and watched Eleven’s fervent agreement, brown eyes glowing. “This is a party.”

“What’re you drinking?” Robin prodded you with a long finger again, swishing her glass your direction. 

You crinkled your nose, watching the ice melt droplets to the side of her glass, which beaded and splattered, darkening the tabletop beneath each shake. You chewed through her words, realizing that she was right. Steve had chosen to bail. You were the better person here, showing up for your friend despite your worry, your anxieties. Sure, you had wanted to see him, hoped to patch things up, silently prayed for a heated makeup in a coat closet or your themed hotel room. But he wasn’t here, and you were. 

You straightened your posture, gave Robin a firm nod. “Dirty Shirley, please.” 

“Atta girl,” Robin grinned and pushed off from her seat to head to the bar. Eleven yelled for her to wait up and traipsed behind her, leaving you alone at the table with half-drank glasses and Eddie’s suit jacket. 

You stared at the black lapel, wondering if it looked familiar. You glanced upward at Mike and Nancy, laughing with each swing of their arms over their heads. You swallowed and trailed your fingers along the hem, gripped at the shoulder pad. You stared back at the soft material, albeit a bit tattered. Maybe it wasn’t Steve’s. Maybe it was just secondhand. You made to flip the left side over, to look for an inscription, when a voice startled your hand away. 

“Dance with me.” 

You clutched at your chest, attempted to calm your breath, and spun to see Eddie with an outstretched hand and a wide grin. “When did you get back?” 

“Two seconds ago,” he shrugged, waggled his fingers your direction. “Get up. I want to dance.” 

There’s no reason you shouldn’t be having fun. A smile tugging at your cheeks, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to pull you to the dance floor. Only, when you reached the spot beside Nancy and Mike, the song ended and the tempo slowed again, something sweet and soft. Mike and Nancy High-fived. 

“Aw man, I was hoping for the fast one.” Eddie groaned, but he pressed a soft hand to the small of your waist and tucked you in tight, cheek pressed to your temple as you began an awkward, off-kilter sway, a bit too dramatic, outrageous. It made you laugh, and you felt his chuckle bubble against your chest. 

He was warm, but damp. His hair had been pulled back, low and loose at the base of his neck. Wet curls lined his cheeks and your own. He smelled of cigarettes and spearmint, and you pulled back to get a good look at his brown eyes, wide, but not blood shot.

“I thought you were going for a smoke,” you commented. 

He flashed a canine, shrugged. “I did. Nasty habit.” 

You cocked a brow. “I thought you were going to smoke.” You reiterated, glancing around the room to ensure the other guests hadn’t caught the inflection in your voice. You were pleasantly surprised to find Nancy tucked into Will’s chest. The poor boy’s eyes were bloodshot, and he had a slaphappy smile etched over his features. Nancy rolled her eyes at you, but she was smiling too.

“I let them have all the fun,” Eddie explained, his voice a low rumble against your chest.

You smiled, allowed yourself to drape a little closer, your own hand warm in his. “Why? This is a party, after all.”

His shoulder raised in a shrug under your palm. “Guess I’m growing up.” 

You pulled back again to see the sly smile carving into his cheeks, and you both laughed again before he tucked you back under his chin. 

—

You were swung around for six full songs, pink vodka and Sprite splashing the dance floor, and abdomen in stitches from raucous laughter, before you groaned about sore ankles and were all but carried back to your seat. You set your drink next to your discarded purse on the tabletop and slumped into your seat, cheeks flushed and aching. You hadn’t had that much fun in ages.

“So much for keeping your top-button done,” Robin commented as you approached.

You followed her point to Eddie’s bare chest. You hadn’t realized his bolo Demon had nearly slid off, buttons undone to expose a litany of scars around a smattering of dark curls. A few faded tattoos lended to the chaos, shiny. 

“It’s freaking hot.” He excused himself, slumping into the seat beside you, that taunting jacket swaying under his weight.   

“Eddie, I didn’t know you were such a voracious dancer,” Nancy waggled her eyebrows over her own drink. 

Eddie flashed his signature grin and pointed a finger her direction. “You’re next, Wheeler. After I catch my breath.” His chest was heaving. The last number was upbeat, somewhat of a swing, and he definitely prided himself in attempting to throw you around. It was sloppy, to say the least, but fun. 

“Watch your legs, Nance,” you rubbed at a Charlie horse smarting at your calf from your heels. “He’s a kicker.” 

“I am not!” Eddie gawped, and you squealed when he reached to encircle your ankle and pull it into his lap. Surprisingly agile fingers pulled your strap from its buckle, and he slipped your shoe to the ground, relief flooding swollen toes. You rolled your ankle in his grasp, and strong hands melted the muscles of your calf, coaxing out the tight knot that resided there. 

You were a little light-headed, and the buzz of alcohol made it difficult to contain a sound of delight. You clenched to stop yourself from moaning, and hissed when your calf tightened further.

“Relax, will you?” Eddie mumbled, all tease. 

You laughed and settled your shoulders, slid further down the cool metal chair.

He released one leg and tapped the other, and you complied, trying to ignore the prickle of gooseflesh beneath his knuckles as they grazed your ankle. 

You hadn’t been pampered like this in months, not since Steve offered you an early morning favor you couldn’t refused. You felt your cheeks warm, and you licked the cherry from your bottom lip, watching the glint off Eddie’s rings with each stroke, eyes unfocused. It was definitely the alcohol talking, but you’d always felt safe in Eddie’s hands, cared for, well-looked after. 

He tilted his head to face you, curls falling around his face. He shook them out of big, brown eyes, cheeks creasing in a smile. “Better?” 

You hummed a thanks and tucked your toes back around the leg of your chair, out of his grasp. 

You watched, breathless, as his eyes raked your form, his own cheeks flushing, before he slapped his hands to his knees and huffed a breath. “Ready, Nance?”

Nancy groaned, but pushed herself to her feet, downing the rest of her cup before she allowed Eddie to drag her out onto the dance floor. You never noticed how tall he was, slender yet firm, dwarfing Nancy’s tiny frame as he took her petite hand into his, his other hand wide against her lower back. 

“Feeling better?” Robin pulled your attention. She had mischief in her eyes, and she jiggled her glass in the air between you. 

She was feeling toasty, you could tell by the rouge of her cheeks, the stained of her lips. Mike and Eleven spoke in giggles behind hands, playing Will at a game of Go-Fish with hole-punched cards he’d procured at some point. Jonathan sat beside them, stoned as all Hell, with a silly grin just beneath that God awful mustache. You felt warm, you felt at home. And for the first time in seven years, that feeling didn’t require Steve. 

You released a shy smile, unable to hide it, and lifted your glass to clink with her own. “Much. Thank you.”

—

The bride and groom left in a flurry of sparklers, tucked into a bright yellow van, waving their goodbyes with blown kisses and dazed looks on their faces. The guests made their exits into breath-steaming cold, and you found yourself against the frigid hood of your car, sipping a stolen Dirty Shirley with Eddie’s jacket thrown over your shoulders. Grenadine dripped from a maraschino cherry, sticky-sweet, as Eddie lifted it from your glass and popped it between plump lips. It burst between his molars, and he procured the stem from between his front teeth. 

“Can you tie it into a knot?”

His brows furrowed into the most dramatic scold you’d ever seen, and he tossed the stem to the ground between your feet. “I’m not giving away all of my secrets.” 

You warmed at the insinuation and fingered around melting ice for the second cherry, avoiding his gaze. When you grasped the stem, he elbowed your side, almost causing you to fling it from the cup. He chuckled at the indignant noise that fell from between your lips. 

“Sorry,” he grinned, and you noticed his eyes lingered on your lips when you put the cherry in your mouth. 

You both looked away, facing out at the winter night. The stars were brighter here, sky bigger. Shirley had warmed your insides, and Eddie’s jacket had warmed you out. You placed cold fingertips to the embroidered letters on the inside pocket, pretended you couldn’t feel a cursive SFH. 

“So,” Eddie mumbled, reaching into the jacket pocket at your hip. You jumped under his touch, and he procured a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, shaking it your direction. “Want a smoke?” 

You declined the offer, tossing your cherry stem into your glass while the fruit popped syrupy sweet between your teeth, soaked with the sting of vodka. 

“Alright, I’ll be right back though.” He nodded off toward the side building, courteous. Before he stepped away, though, he turned to face you, scratching at the back of his neck. You noticed a soft blush burning at his cheeks, the cold having already nipped his nose a soft pink. “Hey so, would you maybe want to come back to my room with me?”

You buzzed on his words, the softest he’d spoken, the smallest he seemed. You chewed on the cherry and swallowed with a smile, but before you could respond, he clarified. 

“I mean, you know because I have that fridge full of mini-bottles of alcohol and peanuts, and the room’s on Harrington’s card, so we really can’t let that go to waste.”

You hoped your face didn’t falter from the sound of his name, his ever-presence. You swallowed again, took a the final few sips of your drink, watered down, and shrugged. “Sure, Eddie.” 

“Great,” he breathed, all fog. “See you in a minute?” 

You nodded. “I’ll be here.” And he disappeared around the corner, pulling a cigarette between his lips. Maybe you should have joined him, you could have used the nicotine to calm your sudden nerves. You dumped your ice beside you, water splashing your nylons and crossed your arms over your chest, one again feeling for the soft embroidered letters. You closed your eyes and tipped your head back.

Had he been there, you might be doing the same right now, hunkered under his jacket, waiting for a quick smoke before he took you back to his room. Steve had always been warm hands and lingered kisses, flirtation, toeing the line. With Steve it was always about not getting caught, but not caring if you did. It was young and reckless, and now you were older and more responsible, and terrified of settling down. 

“Hey, babe. Will and I are tucking in for the night,” Robin approached with Will linked to her arm. He looked exhausted, shoulders slumped, pupils still slightly blown.

You raised your brows at Robin. “And Nancy?” 

Robin cracked a sly smile. Will groaned in disgust. 

“Good for her,” you snorted. 

Robin nodded, pushing Will in the direction of her car with the promise of pizza. She turned to you with an arm outstretched, ready to accept your tight hug. “Will I see you soon?” 

“I hope,” you shrugged. “Come see me for your birthday?” 

“Hawkins,” she sighed into your ear, squeezing you tight. All warm and patchouli and Robin. “But I’ll be in DC around Easter. Can we meet then?” 

You were that age, where you scheduled time with your friends, where you didn’t have fun anymore, where life had begun to slow down. You swallowed and pulled away, holding her padded shoulders at arm’s length. “Robin?” Your pulse began to quicken.

“Yeah, babe?” 

You glanced over her shoulder at a skyward billow of smoke. “I’m going back to Eddie’s room with him.” 

Her eyes widened, and you worried it might be judgement, disappointment, until her lips cracked into a grin. “Holy shit.” She laughed. 

You nodded. “Holy shit.” 

“Tell me every gory detail, please? Call me the moment you get home.”

Your heart fluttered at the idea of details, of Eddie’s rumbled voice, of cigarettes and spearmint and cherry. Your ankles wobbled and Robin caught you with a laugh.

“You good to drive?”

Eddie was. You didn’t think you saw him drink anything after the beer. He toasted with water.

You tightened the jacket around yourself, thumbing at the letters on the inside pocket. “Robin, do you think…” You weren’t even sure what you were asking. “I mean, they’re roommates.” You huffed, gesturing off in Eddie’s direction. 

Robin rolled her eyes, gave your wrists a tight squeeze. “The three of you are consenting adults,” her voice rasped with exhaustion, the end of a great night. “You asked Steve to come, and he didn’t. That’s on him.”

You felt your cheeks warm. Steve really did tell her everything. 

“Tell me something.”

You hummed, glancing over her shoulder at Eddie’s approaching frame.

“Do you want to marry Steve?” 

That familiar panic clawed at your chest, and you staggered further into her, the mountain air creating static cling between your nylons and the chiffon of your skirt. It had been a question you’d been asking yourself over and over again for months now, a question that provided you with nothing but hurt, confusion, a question for people your age. 

You grit your teeth, stood up straight, shook your head. “No. At least, not right now.” 

She smiled at that, another sweet, unexpected smile, one bathed in mischief. “Good. It’s important to have fun while you’re still young.” 

—

Eddie lead you into his room in a flurry of apologies, lifting an explosion of clothes off various pieces of furniture to shove into his suitcase. The room was large, too opulent for Eddie’s taste, with pastel wallpaper and a balcony overlooking snow-topped mountains. Or, you’d assumed it would in daylight. Currently, honeyed street lamps glowed at gauzy curtains, the city was pitch black beyond and below.

The thing that struck you the most was the double beds, one pristine and pressed, the other haphazardly shoved together, a crease where Eddie’s body had lain the night before. Steve had booked the room for two. You wondered how long ago, and at what point he changed his mind. 

“Ta-da,” Eddie gestured to the open space before giving the grand tour. “Bathroom,” all peach marble and gold fixtures. “Television, with pay-per-view.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And… snacks.” He swung open the door to the mini fridge and reached in to pull out a few mini bottles of vodka. They clinked against his silver rings. 

Anxiety bubbled in you, that familiar precipice of a storm. It tingled in your fingertips, thundered your heartbeat in your ears. It was electric like static shock clinging to your nylons. You took a few uneasy steps forward, coughed a laugh. 

Eddie tossed the liquor bottles to the unmade bed and tugged at the Demon medallion around his neck. It was barely on by now, scooped neck of a white tank top visible low on his chest. Eddie was rough around the edges, sticky, stretched like taffy over wiry limbs. He moved with umph, a cartoon character. He pulled his bolo tie over his head and deposited it to the bedside table nearest a phone, a lamp, a pad of paper with the hotel’s logo. 

“Good for Nancy and Jonathan, huh?” He commented, stirring your attention back to the present, back to the fun evening you had, removing the pressure of it all. 

You laughed, tossed your clutch to a side table, leaned against a wall to unbuckle shoes and release your aching toes. “I know, right? She needed it.”

“Did you know they hooked up over Thanksgiving?” Eddie offered like a secret, rolling his sleeves and unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. The tank top beneath clung to bits of him that sweat through, see-through, exposing bits of purpled flesh, like Steve’s.

You sucked in your cheeks and wiggled your toes against the carpet, strode to the mini fridge to find a bag of M&Ms. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll here about tonight for the next three months.” You shook the bag his direction, and when he held his hands out to catch it, you tossed and grabbed yourself another bag. 

“What? You don’t think they’ll be together forever after this?” Eddie snickered, tearing open his bag from the center. The plastic split and a few candy-coated chocolates pelted the carpet, but he kicked them under the unmade bed and threw himself onto it with all of the flair for dramatics he was famous for. The comforter sighed under him.

You snorted, shrugged, tore open the corner of your own bag, and crawled to rest against the headboard beside him. You popped a green one into your mouth, and a brown. They tasted a bit stale, and odd refrigerated, but the crunch between your teeth was satisfying enough.

“Hey, so,” Eddie pulled himself upward and shifted onto his side to face you, all long limbs and chocolate breath, and you turned to catch watchful brown eyes. “I know I’m a thousand percent going to regret asking this,” he licked the corner of his plump, pink lips. “But what exactly happened in Louisville?” 

You nearly choked. Eddie laughed as you sputtered, and he darted from his spot with an apology on his lips to pull a sealed plastic water bottle from the fridge. You laughed with him, tears forming at your eyes while you twisted the cap off and sat up for a drink and a gasp of fresh air. 

“That bad, huh?” He settled beside you again, his surprisingly weight teetering you on your side. 

“Steve didn’t tell you?” You sipped, licked chocolate from your teeth. 

Eddie’s eyes were soft, innocent, head tilted to yours as he shook the curls from his eyelashes. “He didn’t say much, just came back grumpier than usual. Robin yelled at him the other day because every time we mention you, he gets all… weird. Quiet. Obnoxious.” His lips split in a grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was concerned, concerned for his friend, for you too.

You took a deep breath, acknowledged the idea of a sullen Steve, moping around at your expense. You thought back to that blessed weekend, boring conference room meetings anxiously awaiting 5 o’clock when you could stumble back into a hotel room, not unlike this one, unzipping your dress and soaking in Steve Harrington’s all-encompassing affection. All weekend, he had been soft words and sweet sounds and roaming hands, until the end.

And then you fought. God, you’d never fought anyone like that. 

“Steve asked me to marry him.” 

It was Eddie’s turn to choke. “I’m sorry?” 

You shrugged, tugged at a run in the chiffon of your pleated skirt. “Well, he more told me to marry him than asked. There wasn’t a ring or anything.” You groaned and slammed your head back into the padded headboard. “He wanted to try long distance, and when I said no, he told me to marry him, told me to move to Hawkins, promised to take care of me. And Jesus, Eddie, no offense to Hawkins or its residence, but you know I can’t do that. I mean, after the Earthquake? After all that happened?” You were rambling, but you hadn’t talked about it. Not since you spewed to Nancy, and that was months ago.

“No, I get it,” Eddie sighed, tugging his hair tie from his end to run his fingers through scraggly hair. “I’m only there for Wayne, and half the time, I think he’s staying for me. Hawkins is like a black hole.” 

“Exactly!” You poured a few more M&Ms into your hand and ate them one-by-one. “And like, I obviously like Steve. I mean, he was my first kiss, my prom date. We have history, you know? I think that’s why I know him so well.”

Eddie hummed in response, settled back down beside you, shoulder to shoulder. He tossed a candy, missed his mouth. It settled somewhere between you. 

“Steve needs the nuclear family. He needs a stay-at-home wife and six kids, a golden retriever out back.” You mused. You almost hated that you saw yourself in the role, could see yourself melding perfectly into it, had been imagining it for months and months. 

Eddie just let you speak, continued to shuffle chocolate into his hand and down it. 

You elbowed him. “What, no input here?” 

He crunched a few bites, mouth full, and shrugged. He pulled your water bottle from your hand to chase the chocolate coating his mouth, and took a minute to compose his thoughts before he said. “Can I be totally honest with you?”

“Please,” you nodded, tilting yourself to face him. 

He glanced your direction for a split second, but looked outward, gesturing to the room, to his invisible audience. “I mean, I obviously want you both to be happy. He’s one of my best friends. We share a toilet, for Christ’s sake.” 

You chuckled at the visual.

The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, and he glanced back at you again. You watched his Adam’s apple bob. “But uh… I’m feeling really selfish tonight.” 

You felt it again at his words, that buzz of electricity to your fingertips. “Yeah?” Was all you could manage. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, looked away, gestured out to the neatly pressed bed to your right. “I mean, he’s not here. He could have fought for you, and he chose to be a coward and stay home, and I feel like kind of a dick because I’m just so grateful I finally have you to myself.” 

You watched the steady rise and fall of his chest before he turned to face you again, his eyes big and brown and watching you watch him. 

“Because honestly? It’s been killing me to fight for your attention when Harrington’s around. I mean, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you offered to tutor me sophomore year.”

You licked the crease between your lips, saw it catch his gaze, watched him do the same. A shiver slipped down your spine. “You could try now. If you want.” 

A soft sound spilled from his mouth, and his brows furrowed neatly. “Are you sure?” 

You smiled, leaned back against the headboard, and whispered, “Kiss me, Eddie.” 

His lips were soft, pillowy, all-encompassing. He overtook your space, crowded you with a cascade of curls and a firm hand to the headboard above your head, his other grazing your ribcage, and you leaned into the taste of chocolate and spearmint. He was gentle, timid, a stark polar opposite from the dramatic flair of the man you’d grown accustomed to, a facade, perhaps. 

His nose nuzzled your own, and your cheek, and you breathed a warm smile to his temple when his lips found the hollow at your ear. “Can I?” He whispered, and you muttered an allowance before feeling warm, soft kisses down the plane of your throat to the dips of your clavicle. 

You pushed at his shoulders, unraveling the collar of his shirt until he was pulling away to yank folded sleeves down his forearms. His lean frame was sinew and faded ink and a smattering of scars that matched a few of your own.

He pulled his tank over his head next, not one to waste time, and you trailed your fingers along tight flesh from ribcage to hipbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps along pale skin. With a groan, he dipped back to capture your lips in a kiss again. You heard the scatter of M&Ms across the side table, felt the shift of the bed as he gripped your hips and pulled you downward until your head rested on a cotton pillowcase. 

“I meant it when I told you you were beautiful,” he muttered to your lips, hands ghosting your thighs as he made for the waist band of your nylons beneath your dress. 

You felt self-conscious about the creases left to your skin there, but nimble fingers rolled the thin material down past your knees, and you watched it waft to the floor. Firm hands quickly replaced it, kneading at aching leg muscles, pinching the meat of your thighs between ringed fingers. You moaned into an open mouth. 

“You deserve to be worshipped.” He sighed into your shoulder.

He was right. You deserved to have fun, to enjoy your friend’s wedding, to party, to live a little. You deserved to not worry about the ever-present stress of adulthood. You deserved to sink into a cushy mattress and clutch curls as a man buried his face into you, as a man praised you, as a man pleased you. 

You held chiffon pleats to your thighs, wished you’d shaved, felt pillowy lips to the crux of your hips, tried not to compare calloused hands to smooth ones. You saw stars, eyes and jaw slammed shut, and tried not to compare a round-tipped nose to a flat one. You allowed Eddie to kiss you, lips tacky, breath hot, and tried not to compare sweet sounds to filthy ones. 

Eddie was all lips, where Steve was all hands. Eddie was strong shoulders, nimble fingers, and Steve was rhythm and hips and thighs. Eddie was whispered truths and damp and sticky sweet, and Steve was furrowed brow and grit teeth, determined. Eddie let you pin him, hair splayed across a creased pillowcase, your small hands pressed to the faded ink on his chest, tracing lines with manicured fingertips. Steve would have pinned you wrists over your head. 

“Can I hold you?” Eddie asked, when you were all spent and sweating and breathless, curls stuck to his temples, eyelids heavy.

You sunk into spindly arms, your legs tangled but spread wide across an uneven bedspread. You dress has been discarded beneath the side table. The soft lamplight accentuated the shadows, a honeyed glow pooling in from the patio beyond. 

Something heavy rattled in you, guilt perhaps, and you released a shaky breath. 

“Need a smoke?” Eddie breathed into your neck, that warm chuckle, friendly, like he understood, that safe space to bring you back to Earth. 

You tucked his hand tighter into your ribcage beneath your breasts, a buoy tying you to the reality of the day, of your life, to the consequences of your actions. 

You fell asleep to the low, rumbling hum of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling In Love. 

---

A/N: This has been floating around my head for ages, and for some reason, it chose this week to finally come out, and it's so vastly different from what I had planned. Listen, I'm a Steve girl, trust me. I know it may not seem like it, but I'm really, really a Steve girl. But Eddie's just so... I just love him sometimes, okay?

Also I just really felt like this was so about the friendship between them all. If you can't tell, I think I'm in love with Robin and Nancy. Let me know what you think. Love you forever and ever. xo Amanda

[lamaisongaga]

FASHION CREDITS: LADY GAGA BY ETHAN JAMES GREEN FOR VOGUE US OCTOBER ISSUE

I was highly expecting for Lady Gaga to land a Vogue cover and here we are, covering the October issue of the American Vogue. The photoshoot, which is highly inspired by her role as Harley Quinn in "Joker: Folie à Deux", was lensed by Ethan James Green.

Styling: Alex Harrington, makeup: Sarah Tanno-Stewart, hair: Frederic Aspiras, nails: Kim Truong using Glitterbels, tailors: Hailey Desjardins and Egle Paulauskaite, set design: Marla Weinhoff.

Photographed during her stay in Paris in July this year, the cover photo showcases Gaga in the blue embroidered trompe-l’œil synthetic hair coat made in collaboration with hairstylist Gary Gill from Balenciaga‘s 53rd Fall/Winter 2024 Haute Couture collection!

An iconic silhouette by now, Gaga rocks a pair of her favorite Marc Jacobs Fall/Winter 2016 Kiki buckled black leather platform boots!

The mixture of couture, high-end designers and emerging talent is immense in this editorial as Gaga wears a grunge-inspired Hodakova Fall/Winter 2024 argyle knit sweater in this hauntingl beautiful shot.

Hyperventilating is an UNDERSTATEMENT. I fell in love the moment John Galliano sent out his girls down the dramatic runway and ever since I was hoping to catch Gaga in one of the designs. Never would‘ve thought she‘d even get a whole custom look!

Gaga poses in custom Maison Margiela Spring/Summer 2024 Artisanal Haute Couture.

White cotton caisetted cape cut with the memory of an ulster coat, worn over a patinaed knitted silk bodysuit matching Gaga’s skin tone underpinned by a corset covered in jersey and a silicone hip prothèse.

A taped reverse swatching hat in white foam and caisetted cotton, patinaed knitted silk stockings and gloves, and custom Christian Louboutin for Margiela white patent leather criss-cross platform pumps with torn stocking overlay.

One thing you should know about Gaga is that she loves to layer multiple runway pieces to merge a whole new look.

From Dior‘s Resort 2025 collection, a love letter to Scotland, she wore a knitted argyle sweater with cut-outs, a tartan wool maxi dress which she layered underneath a mesh and metallic lace dress, and some argyle socks.

The Hodakova sweater makes a return, this time accessorized with an antique hand-painted plaque, ruby and diamond in 18kt gold brooch, and a smoky quartz and pearl in 18k gold brooch, both from Tony Duquette!

A shoe that changed herstory. Vivienne Westwood‘s infamous Fall/Winter 1993 Super Elevated Gillie platform shoes make a return, acquired from Pechuga Vintage. You might remember Gaga wearing a boot version of these for her 2010 Elle spread!

A firework of excitement ransacked my body when I first found out that Alessandro Michele would depart from Gucci to head over to Valentino as the new creative director.

LG is, to my knowledge, the first celebrity to rock a piece from the Resort 2025 "Avant Les Debuts" (Before the Beginning) collection – a pale yellow chiffon mini dress with high collar, tiered ruffle puff sleeves and floral sequin embroidery all over!

Paired with custom Maison Margiela distressed stockings and custom Christian Louboutin platform heels.

Gaga is working it in a bi-colored statuesque coat seen on Yohji Yamamoto‘s Fall/Winter 2024 "A Seamless Parable on Cubism" runway.

Rather than canvas and paint, Yamamoto’s medium is fabric and more than ever, it felt like he let his instinctual side take the wheel. Case in point: He said he couldn’t talk about how he’d arrived at these silhouettes. "During fittings, I can change, I can touch", he said with finality.

The look was crowned with a custom Vivienne Bow hat made of voluminous moiré fabric by emerging designer Andrew James!

One of the "Antwerp Six" designers, Dries Van Noten bid farewell earlier this Summer and decided to leave the fashion scene with a bang by celebrating his legacy at his final Spring/Summer 2025 collection where this epic embroidered cashmere coat is from.

Both her plaque-embellished black beanie...

...and double-breasted boxy oversized coat with peaked lapel are from The Row's Resort 2025 lookbook!

Gaga is the first ever person to wear this vintage Givenchy by Alexander McQueen Fall/Winter 1999 "Execution of Lady Jane Grey" Haute Couture chinoiserie embroidered silk balloon sleeve coat and bespoke black dress, both sourced from LILY et Cie.

In 1999, McQueen was going through, in his own words, "an emotional turmoil" both professionally and personally. But instead of relieving himself, he ventured into his own despair to understand his inner demons more poignantly. This painful journey led Lee to Paul Delaroche’s tragic but beautiful 1833 painting, "The Execution of Lady Jane Grey".

Like a painter to a blank canvas, McQueen filled an empty room with extravagant offerings: romantic silk ensembles with floral embroidery, 16th-century fur-trimmed tunics, luxurious velvet coats, as well as the designer’s signature leather suits, cowl-neck dresses, and even a heightened-for-couture bouffant piece that paid homage to his plaid.

Dialing in on his inspiration, McQueen presented his clothes not on models but on fiber-glass-headed mannequins that emerged from trap doors in batches, as if the audience were in an art gallery rather than a fashion show.

It's almost unrecognizable but Gaga is draping this Chanel Fall/Winter 2024 Haute Couture black silk taffeta opera coat around her torso. This piece, which served as the show's opening number, features a ruffled neck, bejeweled buttons and a voluminous cut.

[chicinsilk]

Hubert de Givenchy Haute Couture Collection Fall/Winter 1952-53. Sophie Malgat in a black crepe evening dress and short red velvet bolero and chiffon petals.

Hubert de Givenchy Collection Haute Couture Automne/Hiver 1952-53. Sophie Malgat dans une robe du soir en crêpe noir et boléro court en velours rouge et pétales de mousseline. Photo Milton Greene

[nancydrewwouldnever]

Hubert Givenchy for Givenchy Haute Couture, Asymmetric Coral Evening Gown, Fall/Winter 1968

Cristobal Balenciaga, Orange Silk Chiffon Evening Gown, Haute Couture 1967

Both dresses collection of the Museum at FIT, NYC

I realize FIT must have flipped the orientation on one of the pics of the Givenchy, but don't know which one.

[femmefatalevibe]

Can you share some tips to look hyperfeminine?

Hi love! Here are some of my tips to achieve the hyperfeminine aesthetic:

Style:

Choose clothes in pink, red, cream, champagne, and pastel shades

Opt for lightweight fabrics: silk, lace, satin, chiffon, cashmere, Pima cotton

Focus on form-fitting and flared-out silhouettes: Camisoles, sleeveless V-neck blouses, bootcut or flared pants, scallop-hemmed shorts/skirts/dresses, A-line (or fit & flare) dresses, skirts, outerwear. Belle or flared sleeves, ruched detailing

Consider items with crystal, embellishment, and sequin detailing (cuffs, collars, bows, buttons, self-tie closures, etc.)

Accessorize with platform heels, footwear with stiletto heels, a sleek ballet flat, espadrilles, or a white sneaker, dainty jewelry, hair clips, skinny belts, and small shoulder/ top handle/clutch handbags

Beauty:

Focus on achieving glowy skin with a silky foundation and pearl or champagne concealer on the tops of your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the center of your forehead, the cupid's bow, and the chin

Use champagne eyeshadow on the inner corners of the eyes and right below the brow. White eyeliner to line the waterline can also provide this doe-eyed effect

Choose a peachy or pink lipstick in a light, medium, or deep hue with cool, blue undertones (or coral undertones if it better suits your skin tone and general coloring)

Keep your lips glossy or choose a lip product with a satin finish for a more subtle yet sumptuous look

Ensure your hair looks shiny and silky smooth with hydrating hair oil, leave-in conditioner, and shampoo/conditioner routine

Try a sweet, fruity, or floral perfume (lighter ones for daytime, more musky options for nighttime or winter)

Hope this helps xx

[zumaira]

Qubool Hai Embroidered Wear by Maria Osama Khan

Qubool Hai Embroidered Wear by Maria Osama Khan

[magazinepk]

Qubool Hai Embroidered Wear by Maria Osama Khan

Qubool Hai Embroidered Wear by Maria Osama Khan

[heavenlyakin]

Part 12: C'mon Baby

Summary: Your life is forever changed when your most trusted advisor arrives home with an engagement treaty. As Queen of your Kingdom, you knew there would be sacrifices but little did you know how much the cost of these sacrifices would be. What do you do when your mind wants one thing but your heart longs for another?

Characters: Reader (some descriptions may apply), Suguru Geto, Satoru Gojo, Camilla (oc advisor), and Bella and Ella

Warnings: pregnancy and childbirth

Length: 1.8k

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The second pregnancy is much gentler on you. You thank the Gods for that each and every day, happy to not have to spend your days confined to the rooms of Satoru’s castle with your head in a bucket. Spring sprung early, the snow finally melting after 6 weeks of being away from home. Only another 6 to go. 

A knock at your door during your morning bath draws your and the twin’s attention. “Who could that be at this hour?” 

You shrug, leaning back against the tub and setting your hands on the small bump that’s formed. Some distant voices become less hushed as they near your bathing chamber. The familiar voice of your husband becomes distinct before he steps into the room. 

“Ah, there you are.” 

“Here I am,” you smile. “What do I owe the pleasure, King Gojo?” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “A rumor has spread amongst my court.” 

Your heart drops to your stomach. What rumor? 

Your frown makes him speak again. “The maids have not had to clean a set of soiled sheets since you arrived. Your monthly has yet to come in weeks.” 

“I didn’t know men cared to inquire about women’s issues.” You tease, standing up, the twins rushing out of the room as you do. “The rumors are correct.” You place your hand on the rounded part of your stomach. I am with child again.” 

His grin is infectious, but you can’t help the bite of guilt nipping at you from the inside. He steps towards you in the tib, placing his hands on the wet skin of your stomach. You let him stare, knowing the next few months will be the last of his joy when you have a child that is clearly not his.  

“I would like to have this one at home as well. It is due around the winter solstice according to my midwife.” You inform him. 

“That seems too soon. Are you sure?” He asks and you nod. 

“She fears I will go into labor early as I did with Haku. So she wants me prepared this time. If I hold out a month after, it will not be concerning, but better for the child.” He listens and helps you dry off and into your robe. 

“I have news too,” he tells you as you sit on a fluffy white chair in your room. He sits at the one across from you as Ella sets a tray of tea and pastries between the two of you. 

“Share, please,” you smile, adding four sugar cubes to his cup and three to yours. 

He takes his tea with thanks, sipping it before speaking. “I had plans drawn up for a castle on the border of our territories, uniting us as one. I would like you to join us today, to look at them and add your input.” 

“Satoru,” you sigh. “I thought we’d decided to stick to the arrangement from the beginning of our marriage.” 

His turn to sigh. “This will make living together effortless, no need to travel far and drag children through rough territories.” 

You understand where he is coming from, you do. However, you’re not accustomed to change. “Has my advisors had input on the plans?” 

“They have. Suguru and Camilla mostly, but they’ve worked with Nanami and me.” He takes a bite from a croissant. “Just come look today at the meeting. We can change anything you like.” 

“If you wish,” you sip from your tea. 

After breakfast, he leaves the room to dress for the day and leaves you to do the same. Choosing a deep plum dress made with flowing chiffon and lace. The gold adornments on the bodice compliment the tiara you brought with you from home. Satoru’s guards follow behind you as you make it to the council room. Your advisors, Satoru, and his advisors are already there when you join, taking a seat beside your husband. 

He announces the news of your pregnancy, and every one offers up their congratulations. Camilla and Suguru hug you, together. Satoru gets several claps on the back and praise from his. You finally get everyone settled down enough to show you the plans that have been drawn up for the new castle. 

“Now, this will take at least three years to construct at best,” Nanami tells you as you nod, flipping through some drawings of gorgeous architecture and interiors. “It’s larger than booths the castle here and yours, giving us room to host both courts at times of celebration.” 

“I must say, I was hesitant.” you place your hand on top of the pages. However, seeing it now, I see why you were so excited, dear husband. I say we move forward as soon as possible.” 

“Smart choice, your grace,” Camilla smiles at you, her eyes lingering on you and the hand Satoru moves to your bump. 

“A new era is upon us,” Suguru states, dropping his pen after signing whatever he was writing. “I believe Nanami, Camilla, and I have lots to discuss now with the news of your second child. We will send for you when details of the announcement needs to be cleared up.” 

Your dismissal is polite on his tongue. Satoru takes your hand as you leave, suggesting a stroll through the gardens now that some blossoms have begun to bloom. 

–

The travels back to your castle were much easier on you, given the weather is much warmer and spring has fully blossomed. Satoru’s court was shocked at the announcement of your pregnancy and so ecstatic. The party lasted several days and nights, much more extravagant than the celebration of your first. 

With so many workers from both your kingdom and Satoru’s, you have had much more to coordinate when it comes to the farming that still needs to be done. This part of ruling has never been something you enjoyed, really, but you’ve found you can make quick informed decisions with Suguru at your side. 

Satoru brought more of his court with him this time, planning on staying here until you’ve had the second child and then some after. He swears up and down he’s fine with it, but you see the looks some of the noblewomen give you, especially the newly married ones. You’ve taken their King and now get your way of where he lives. You handle them well, letting your kindness to them speak for you rather than engaging in the drama some of them try to stir with your own nobles. 

Courting season comes with summer, and many new sons and daughters announced to court, their fresh faces bringing excitement to balls and parties across the country. At least three engagements are announced, two of which Satoru and you arrange between nobles from your respective countries. 

After the last ball of the summer, you find yourself tangled up with Suguru in your bed. His head rests on the pillow beside yours, his hand on your ever-growing bump. He sighs, his breath tickling your cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, looking over to him. 

“Just thinking about how my parents will never meet our child.” He tells you. “They would have been-” 

“Suguru, your father would probably have had my head for having a bastard, even if I was his queen.” You interrupt, trying to stifle a laugh and failing. 

He laughs. “That is true. However, Mother would have loved them no matter what.” 

You don’t remember his mother, as you were only five when she passed. What you do remember of her was told to you from Suguru in the last few weeks at night when you would share memories as you dozed off to sleep. She sounded like your mother, which makes sense given they were friends. 

“I have been wondering, how we will deal with the rumors that will spread about me.” You tell him, rubbing your stomach. “People will talk, no matter what their loyalties are.” 

“Let them talk,” he tells you. “You could have their tongues if it starts to bother you.” 

The idea of cutting out someone’s tongue isn’t exactly how you’d imagined your rule, but now the idea lingered. “What about Satoru?” 

“He’s a wild card, I must admit.” Suguru sits up, his face startled as you feel it too. Like little kicks against your stomach, finally able to be felt outside the skin. “Hey there,” he coos, kissing just above his hands. 

You smile, placing your hand over his. “Do you want a boy or girl?” 

“I’ve always wanted daughters,” he admits. “I’ll be happy as long as they are healthy and have their mother’s beautiful eyes.” He looks up to you, a silly grin on his face. 

–

Plans for the winter solstice have taken way, and the castle is at its capacity with everyone visiting for the celebration. After this year’s bountiful harvest and immense trade, everyone seems to have a little more to celebrate this year. 

Especially given how close to having another heir you are. 

You knew it was going to come any day now, given the false contractions you’ve had all throughout the week. However, you did not expect your water to break on your throne. Your cry for help barely rang through as the music blared, but Satoru jumping up and the guards rushing you out stopped the music altogether. 

By the time you’ve made it up the stairs to your room and onto your bed, you feel the unnerving urge to push. Satoru sits behind you, holding your shoulders and letting you rest against him as needed. It feels like you go for hours through the pain, but the shouting cry of a baby breaks the haze. 

Black hair, as dark as night itself lays atop your baby girl’s head. You open your mouth to speak, but cannot find the words. In your panic, you look up to Satoru, his eyes full of… of… love? He gently moves from behind you, over to the midwife, taking the baby in his arms. 

“She has your father’s hair,” he tells you, his eyes on you now as if he’s pleading. 

“She does,” you quickly say, reaching for her. 

One of the nurses props more pillows behind you to lay back, as you take your daughter in your arms. As you look into her eyes, you realize she looks like her father. Looking up at Satoru, he sits beside you, wrapping his arms around you and the babe. 

“Can we have some time?” He asks the nurses and midwife and they nod, leaving the room. 

“Satoru, I-” 

“A daughter, I have a daughter!” He smiles, kissing your temple. 

His eyes are a storm you’ve never seen before.