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caxde · 17 days

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You said I can send requests and I'm gonna take you up on that offer, my friend.

I'm still in my SoftDad!Eddie brain rot. I'm rolling with the "Dada's Princess" here and imagining little Lua making a flower crown for Princess. Or them making them together to both be "Dada's Princess". Because I knowwwww just the sight of it would make Eddie just melt into a puddle.

Also, love your writing and your beautiful mind for creating such a cute story so far!

💜

Omg thank you soo much <33 i love getting request so this is ideal i ran with the flower crowns idea hope you like it <33 feel free to request anything you like!

bright eyes universe drabble ~1.6k girl!dad eddie

Spring was in full bloom.

You had a day off, and you decided to sleep in, letting the sun rays that sneak in through your window slowly wake you up. It was recomforting, the mundane feeling of it all.

So you enjoyed a hot long shower, singing every song that played on the tape that Eddie had gifted you as a thank you to watching over Lua. It had a little of them both, Bowie and The Smiths had been Lua’s idea -that much was clear- Metallica and Iron Maiden had to be his, but the Led Zeppelin and Fleetwood Mac -you thought- Eddie had chosen because he had heard you singing them when you didn’t even notice you were doing so. A level of attention you were just realising now, in that moment as the hot water hitted your sore back.

A slow morning called for a hot tea, like the ones you used to make for yourself before you had any real responsibilities.

Your hair still somehow wet, brushed away from your face, and that gow that a much needed shower left on your face, you felt clean, soft from once. You grabbed the first clean top that was on your folded laundry pile, a baby blue colour that complimented your skin, some washed up dark jeans to cover your legs.

You walked to your porch, wanting to let your hair dry while you just drank your cup.

Little did you know, a little surprised waited in your door.

A letter was hanging on your door, with a small yet thick piece of duct tape.

Lilac drawings of misshaped stars and hearts decorated the page.

It read:

“Duchess Lua of the mighty Hawkins Trailer Park would like to invite Princess to her court outing this afternoon. We shall have a refreshing picnic by the lake, please, confirm your assistance with Eddie the Once Banished.

Sincerely your dearest friend, Duchess Lua Munson.”

It made you giggle, and blush at the same time. You could tell Eddie had put some thought into it, and the drawings Lua had made to the best of her ability made you want to keep this letter forever.

Which you did, you folded neatly, letting it rest on your bedside table, before you found a place in your wall to hang it on.

You walked back up. The cup let out a clicking sound when the little spoon made contact with it, once you set it down into the floor.

You sat on the little steps, writing on your little pad that was pressed against your thighs, a response that was just as grandiose as the ask had been.

It read:

“Princess is more than happy to accept her Duchess Lua Munson invitation, and would like to know at what time she’s expected to arrive at her delightful trailer for the outing. Princess would like to inform Lady Munson that she’s excited to see her, and will make a treat for the picnic.”

You decided to leave a little red kiss as your signature. A little present that Eddie will cherish for a longer time that you had thought.

A stupid thought crossed your brain -more than a thought, an image- the two letters resting side by side, the paper now turning yellow, framed on a wall that the both of you share, Lua’s older now, maybe not the only daughter.

You had to shake your head, so you wouldn’t get too caught into the dream, snap back into reality.

Maybe it was stupid, or a bit childish but you were excited nonetheless. You switched your jeans for a flowy white sundress, the skirt reached your knees, the fabric had a faded small flower print all over. It was girly, but it was also spring, and for once, you didn’t care.

Your hair was free of any ponytails, or buns or anything like that, and it felt good to let it fall down, being so used to pushing it away from your face when you were working.

Eddie was a bit lost in you, not really focusing on what he should.

Lua was holding your hand, and you both were walking in front of him. He was holding the bags with the food and everything you had prepared -with the added things he already had- and he let himself be lost onto the fantasy.

Lua was telling you about the book he had just started reading for her as a bedtime story, and you kept asking questions, and she yapped in her mumbling voice as much and as excitedly as she could. He saw himself in her in those moments, when her tongue moved faster than her brain and she’d choke on her own words. Her free hand swanged in the air, and when she got caught on a word, she touched it, as a way to comfort herself. Eddie was starting to struggle to not tell you right there how he was feeling. How he was starting to get those scary big feelings. How he could actually see a life with you in it.

Eddie didn’t want to scare you.

So when you got close enough to the Lover’s Lake, and while you and Lua looked around for some spring flowers, he set the cloth down, the little sandwiches he had made on one side, chips for Lua, and a bit of cheese that you liked on the left side. The sponge cake you baked, and the rest of your -half eaten- chocolate bar on the right side. He got the drinks, begging you not to spend more things.

He got a thermos of your favourite tea -he had finally learned how to make it and was eager to see your reaction- water and chocolate milk for Lua, and soda for him. Though deep down he knew he’d end up drinking your tea.

He opened his arms as soon as he saw Lua running to him, her arms opened, her fist holding tightly to the wildflowers she had picked, you followed her closely, your laughter filling the air in his lungs.

You kept laughing, everytime Eddie found something new to do, just so he could hear you. And in consequence, Lua chuckled along. From afar, it already looked out of a picture book, but what he couldn’t quite understand is how it felt like it too.

“Dada?” Lua asked, once she had finished her piece of cake, spinning around so she could look at him.

“Yeah?”

“Can you braid?” She pointed at her hair, a question he had to avoid a bit too often.

“Bug, I’m rubbish at it, you know it.” He tried to plead with her, once again his voice gave in, breaking a bit. He had a tendency to do that when he had to tell her no, as if it would soften the blow.

“Please?” She asked again, her eyebrows raising just like he did when he was asking for something he deeply wanted. You had seen that look when he didn’t want you to leave, or he wanted another kiss. With a soft giggle, you looked at the little scene, hoping to not intrude too much.

“I can, if uh… if that’s okay.” Lua cheered and sat on your lap before you even knew if it was okay or not.

You knew it was, Eddie had that thank you look on his face.

He decided to do what he actually had learned, way back when he wasn’t living here, back when his mother lived. He knotted some of the wildflowers together, concertraing enough on it that his tongue covered his top lip, hearing his mother's voice singing low one to the top and knot over and over in his head.

For once it wasn’t a painful memory.

Rather a joyful one.

Now it was his two little princesses and his mother’s voice.

He placed it on top of your head, a kiss on your temple following it shortly after.

“What’d you do?” You asked, touching your head with care.

“Your crown, you needed one.” He points out, Lua’s eyes widened as she saw it.

“No braid but yes crown?” She asked, not really believing the ability his dad had been hiding from her.

“You know what we can do?” You asked her, trying to distract them both from the way your blood rushed to your cheeks. “Look.” You whispered it to her, as if it were a secret you both shared.

You started grabbing the wildflowers that were scattered around the cloth, placing the stems in between the knots of her braids, small flowers blooming from her hair. As soon as Lua realised what you did, her hand touching it with as much care as she could gather she started screeching from laughter, a type of laugh that not only warmed you, but Eddie as well.

She kind of jumped, though it felt more like a push, to your arms, screaming thank you repetitively, her excitement evident in her tone and gesture.

Eddie just looked at the both of you, his little dream -much similar to yours, even if you didn’t know- nearing the reality right in front of him.

You whispered to him, still holding Lua close to you “You’re full of surprises, huh?”

“Anything for my girls.” The sincerity in which he said it made you blush, the widest smile on your face as you shook your head at him.

“Idiot” You mouthed, no actual sound coming from you, careful that she wouldn’t hear a bad word.

He inched closer to you, leaving a kiss on the highest point of your cheek, right next to your ear.

“Hopefully yours.” He whispered.

A promise he intended to keep.

requests! are open

@took-me-hours-to-steal-those @edens-vices-art @micheledawn1975 @peachystenbrough @mewchiili @bylermaxmayfield @yujyujj @honeymoonmunsonn @paleidiot @ali-r3n @sunshineandwitchery @supernaturalstilinski @womencriedpower @saramelaniemoon @cultish-corner @babyloutattoo89 @witchwolflea @serenadingtigers @readergf @guineveresghost @saramelaniemoon @angel-upon

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cambion-companion · 1 year

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Request plz?: reader is getting frustrated because she is having trouble cuming so she tries to fake it. Aemond figures out what she's trying to do, because he knows what her cunt feels like when she's clenching around him, so he gets mad and stops, leaving her with want for the next few days....then when he finally relents, she is edged all night as punishment? I hope this makes some sort of sense

Hi! I think I've gotten a few of these types of asks so I decided to do a very smutty drabble for this little situation haha

As I said, he would take it personally.

Aemond x fem!reader | just smut with a side of fluff

Your hands sought to grasp the silken sheets, your knees pressing against your chest as Aemond held your legs apart, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he drove into you.

His eye was hooded, fixed upon your face, the bed squeaking and the lewd sounds of your lovemaking filling the air.

You furrowed your brow, mouth gasping for breath around the moans you were trying to hold back.

"Let me hear you." Aemond leaned his lithe body down, his forehead coming to rest against your own as he sheathed himself deep within your heat. The silver strands of his long hair tickled your shoulders as he rocked against you, pushing you deeper into the plush mattress.

You could feel your orgasm building but it would not crest, despite all the foreplay and the way you relished feeling Aemond moving inside you. Knowing he would not be able to finish until you were sated you mewled a little louder for him, raising your hips off the bed to meet his demanding thrusts.

"Aemond..." You whimpered, looking imploringly up at him through your lashes. "Please, I'm close."

He gifted you with a rare moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his hips stuttered, pleasure overtaking him. You tried to put on a convincing performance, though your own release was not forthcoming. Your cries of his name muffled as Aemond kissed you hard on the mouth, drinking down your praises, his breath mingling with your own.

Aemond spilled inside you, seating himself fully within you and remaining locked there for several moments while the two of you panted.

"Quite a show, my ember." Aemond rose just high enough over you to measure your expression. "I am familiar enough with the feel of you coming to release around me that I know you've not been honest tonight."

"Aemond, I-"

"Do I no longer bring you pleasure?" Aemond tilted his head at you, his hand coming to rest lightly over your throat.

"It has nought to do with you, my dragon." You tried to rise to meet his lips in a kiss but he held you firmly against the pillow, his manhood still warm within you. You huffed, giving him your best pout. "My mind has been simply elsewhere tonight."

That was the wrong thing to say. Aemond growled, withdrawing from you entirely and stood at the end of the bed observing your prone body. You feared you'd done him a great offence and moved to hastily sit and reassure him but he was too quick. With a swift movement Aemond pulled you down the length of the bed until your knees hung loosely over the edge.

He knelt in between your legs and began kissing the inside of your thigh, taking the time to suck a bruise to the sensitive skin there. Your fingers wound around his hair out of habit, attempting to guide him to where you ached to feel his touch.

"Your mind was elsewhere..." Aemond's voice was low, almost chiding. His lilac eye never left your face. "While I was making love to you?" He shook his head slightly. "That will not do at all."

You shuddered as the tip of his tongue ran featherlight up your dripping slit. Aemond guided your legs so they draped over his shoulders and you took advantage of this position, pressing your heels against his lean back, trying to gain more friction but Aemond resisted.

He kissed the skin just above your clitoris, the feeling of his breath enough to send small shockwaves rolling down your core.

"Aemond please."

"No." He shook his head again, his nose brushing your flushed skin as his tongue traced infuriating patterns around your most sensitive parts. "You deceived me. Though you meant no malice, I still am taking it rather personally."

"Aemond." You tried again, arching your back as he acquiesced, giving your aching quim a deep lick, his nose rubbing your swollen clit. You whispered his name again, already beginning to clench at the thought of him licking up his own orgasm from your folds.

Aemond pulled his head away from your center, his eye keenly measuring your desperate expression with relish. "What are you thinking of now, my dove?"

You whimpered.

"Is your mind elsewhere?" Aemond circled your clit lazily with a thumb. "Other than here?"

You shook your head vehemently, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

"Good." Aemond purred, descending once more upon you.

With his tongue he unraveled you bit by delicious bit until you were screaming his name in earnest, your release finally rolling through you, Aemond greedily lapping at you as you came onto his mouth.

"Again." He looked at you hungrily, sliding two fingers into your still quivering core. "Come for me again."

He sucked and swirled his tongue around your clit as his fingers worked inside you, pumping and curling with practiced strokes, your body an instrument he'd studied with rigorous intent for many heated hours.

You felt another orgasm building, your knees raising instinctually as you lost yourself to the sensation. Just as you began falling over than precipice once again Aemond removed his fingers and swiftly moved over you, sliding his cock deeply into you once more.

You dug your fingers into his shoulders, your fingernails leaving marks as you came undone around him.

"Aemond, I'm coming!" You gasped, your mouth slack with pleasure as Aemond kissed your arching neck.

"I know." Aemond moaned, his cock rooted within your clenching walls.

You moved your hips against him, Aemond allowing you to ride out the rest of your orgasm at your own pace as he met your movements with steady thrusts of his own.

When you had come down from your pleasure and lay limply upon the bed, your breathing still rather ragged, Aemond curled up beside you, pulling your body tightly against his. He rubbed slow circles against your stomach, his lips finding yours as you turned into him.

"I will never begrudge you anything, much less your own pleasure." Aemond nuzzled your nose with his. "Do not pretend with me again."

You could tell he was still mildly bothered and so you cuddled closer to him, kissing him again. "As my king commands."

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jamneuromain · 5 months

Text

Wild Child Chapter. 4

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

A/N: A big smooch to @rogerswifesblog for she has come up with some of the most hilarious conversation XD Please send her some love<333

You were young, carefree. Came back from school only five minutes ago. Happy, giddy.

You were showing your mother, who took your school bag from your shoulders, a face you make, learnt from your friend in school.

You pulled your lower eyelids, and stuck your tongue out, making your mother laugh at your shenanigans.

“Very funny, sweetie.” Your mother tapped your nose with her finger with a “Boop”, before kissing it gently, “Now go wash your hands, okay? Daddy’s going to be with us for dinner. So be an elegant little lady, and don’t disappoint daddy, okay?”

“Okay!” You dashed to the bathroom with a happy grin, having your mother raise her voice.

“Don’t run in the hallways, sweetie, you might fall!”

Your father barely came to visit you. He would occasionally stop by for an hour or two, leaving you and your mother in this house for months before visiting again. To you, he was a stranger, but your mother’s attitude proves more than that. She would tell you to obey your father and be a good girl, that he is busy and could not afford to visit you often, and that your father loves you.

You saw her taking out the beautiful lilac dress that she had kept in her wardrobe for years, putting on make-up, and finding a pretty white dress for you, which was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Calling the two servants in this house, your mother ordered them to place the best silverware you had at the table, and having the chef cook a five-course meal.

You and your mother always had dinner together, in the small house on the outskirts of Ancetol. She would supervise your homework before dinner, and take your little hand, and walk you to the dining room.

But she forgot about tutoring your homework that day, and you were simply glad that you didn’t have to practice your piano and violin, do your math questions, or recite the poem in French that she taught you the day before.

You watched the few people in this house swoop in and out of rooms in haste, curious as to why the simple presence of your father could make your mother (almost) completely forget about you.

In the end, this was the one problem you could not have figured out, no matter how hard you tried, using the brain of a 7-year-old.

The clattering of plates, furniture, and heels clicking on the floor slowly died down, and you hid in your room, reading the fantasy stories written by some brilliant female writer, whom you hoped to be one day.

One of the servants knocked on your door.

“Miss. Y/L/N, your father asked to see you.”

“Coming!”

If there is one thing that you have figured out, it is that making your father happy equals making your mother happy. And you’d want that, making her happy.

So by some sort of twisted logic inside your head, when your father asked you what have you learned in school, you pulled your lower eyelids, and stuck your tongue out, making a face.

You remembered every detail of how your father snapped, slapping you across the face and shouting at your mother, hitting her forehead with an ashtray that cut into her skin, before storming out of your house.

It was a memorable lesson as your mother locked herself in her bedroom and cried, while you sat by the dining table with a swollen cheek, looking at the meal gone cold, flinching at every sound, fearing that he would return.

When one of the servants came and informed you that your mother wouldn’t be joining you for dinner, by the time your stomach cramped in protest, for you were persistent in waiting for your mother to dine with you, you nodded in silence, grabbing the knife and fork, cutting the cold chicken into small pieces.

In the large, dim dining room, with romantic candles lit on either side of the long table, you sat on your chair, eating chicken and wiping your eyes, until your hands were soaked with tears that you could barely grasp the silverware anymore.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Guy, Guy Thomas approached you and sat down right across the table. He wore something more casual today, a blue T-shirt and a dark green jacket with a pair of sunglasses.

“Y/N.” His smooth brunette hair tousled as he removed his sunglasses, and a lop-sided grin lingered on his lips, “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Guy.” You rolled your eyes, signalling the waitress to take your order, “I called and asked you to come. There’s nothing surprising here.”

He folded his sunglasses, placing them on the table, right by the menu, “Since I am accompanied by this kingdom's future queen-”

“SHHHH!” You glared and kicked his shin under the table as the waitress clicked her pen and flipped a new page on her pad.

“May I take your order?” The waitress asked in a bored voice, not even bothering to lift her eyelids and look at you.

“Chamomile tea, please, and two croissants.” You handed the menu to the waitress.

“Ice Americano, please. Nothing else.” Ari scanned over the piece of paper briefly, handing it to the waitress as well.

Your focus drifted to the empty sidewalk and a few pedestrians. A young couple, having large mountain bags on their shoulders, taking a selfie with their daughter in a pink lacy dress.

All you remembered were the flashing camera lights at proms. Where you were forced to smile with pearl-white teeth. Or carefully orchestrated family pictures, which took hours to pose and select the best one.

Photos.

You and Ari both remained silent as your food and drink arrived,

Ari observed you.

You still didn’t look happy.

There was a cute little frown on your face, as you stared outside of the window in this small café.

However, his observation did not last long, for you turned to him and put a smile on your face. The smile had all the elements, the movements of the muscles on your cheek, the corner of your lips, even the little lines at the edge of your eyes.

It looked sincere. Yet a small voice at the bottom of Ari’s heart told him, it was not.

"I've got this all figured out." You chirped up, a total change from your brooding status, pulling out a little notepad and started reading, "We met at a business dinner party in London when we got acquainted because the host accidentally put us next to each other. We had a fun night and talked about literature. I'm thinking French or German but you can decide the details. We exchanged phone numbers and started texting. But we're also new into this relationship so I'm thinking six or seven dates before sex, which of course, happened in my place."

Ari choked on his iced coffee.

“Sex??” He wiped his lips with a napkin, “Hold on. Hold-on.” Ari raised his hand, gesturing you to stop reading from your notebook, “You are making up a background story for this fake relationship?”

“Well yeah,” you shrugged as if you were not the one who just made up a story detailed enough to publish, “they are going to ask these embarrassing questions anyway, and they'd probably separate us to see if our story stays the same."

“They?”

“My folks. Parents. My dad, especially.” You quickly changed the center of attention, “So … six dates before sex?” You quirked your eyebrows at him.

Ari made a mental note not to drink when you were speaking, “Sure, six.”

“Great!” You traced your finger on the notebook, finding the part where you had just left off, “Oh, right, new to relationship. I shall say three months? So we met in June, one months of texting and flirting and we settled the relationship on August 10th."

“Is it really necessary to have a date?” Ari huffed a laugh in amusement, you were way more fun than he had imagined, “You're making it sound like they will torture us for this information.”

A disapproving look was thrown in his direction. “I know my family. And trust me, talking to them is pure torture.”

Ari put both of his hands up in surrender, "Fine. You were saying?"

It didn’t take you long to find your notes this time. “Oh, the date. Because you are going to prepare a small gift. Small. To celebrate our 100th day together. Without saying, I'll obviously buy the gift and all you have to do is give it to me so that I can act surprised and talk about it in front of my family.”

Seeing Ari having nothing else to add, you continued: “About the time period of our relationship. You only need to remember one month of texting and flirting before we get together, but I'll act like slightly pissed at you in front of my parents. I'll say six weeks or five weeks and four days. Or forty days. Don't react to my answer. I'll probably sway your arm and pout and ask you to agree with me. And it doesn't matter if you do or still say one month; that would be real enough."

Ari nodded, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the laughter from bubbling out. He was now part of your plan, he had to follow it through.

“One month. 100th day, three months. Got it.”

You let out a sigh of relief, seeing there was still about 1/3 to go. “Right, sex. (Ari waited for a moment to swallow the coffee in his mouth) Two months should count for at least a dozen. But the first time should be in my bedroom. My parents are way too traditional to be told otherwise. And you took me to a fancy restaurant before that.”

“Anything else?” After listening to your fake relationship project, there was nothing that could shock him now.

“Anything else you need to know is on that piece of paper.” You snatched a piece of paper from your bag, with a list of likes, dislikes, and some fun facts about you. “Questions?”

Ari was reading through your likes of fantasy novels and dislikes of realism movies, “Only one.”

Not that there was only one question, but the only important one, that he wanted to ask, ever since he met you.

“Is your family always like this?”

His misty blue eyes focused on you. Yet the pitying and the condescending sympathy were too much for you to take in.

The need to share and the bottled wrath crashed into one another, prickling your eyes with tears. It had been so long since anyone comforted you – someone who wasn’t connected to you by blood. This was much less a comfort, and more of a confirmation that normal families, with emphasis on “normal”, should not need their daughter to join hands with a total stranger and lie to them to get out of a marriage proposal.

You shrug, pretending that it didn’t bother you, “You know, family expectations. And then the family I'm supposed to marry has another ton of expectations. And expectations crush you into something you're not. Showing them one side and trying to hide away another. But anyway, I bet the guy I'm going to marry is a lot worse. Machoman shit or stuff like that.”

Seeing him frown, you added, “Not you, Guy. The guy I was supposed to marry. The other guy. His name is not ‘Guy’, of course. But that guy…” Feeling like you had made the conversation a lot weirder, you gave up explaining, frustration taking over your tone, “… you know what I mean.”

Ari found that he was more prone to silence these days. True love was a vague concept for him ever since he knew that he would marry you one day. He thought about how you look like, how you speak or act in front of him. But it never occurred to him that the rules from both families are crushing you, molding you into a lifeless doll rather than a living human being. The twisted family you had, imprisoning you in your house, stripping you of connections to the outside world, and forcing you to marry someone that you did not even know about.

Was it the right choice to marry you? After seeing first-hand what the title and the royal burden meant to you?

Ari was sure before. Now? He was not so certain about it.

Changing the topic of your conversation almost jokingly, he swept away the heavy tension hovering above you: “You sure I’m the right guy-” Remembering your frustration on the “Guy” subject, he decided to ditch the word for the time being, “person to be your boyfriend?”

You dismissed his doubts with a simple reply, “Yeah yeah yeah, you have good genes. They’d love to see our kids.”

Ari was drinking the last few drops of coffee before choking on it again.

He would never drink anything while you were talking.

“That’s-” He coughed into his napkin, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Joking!” You pushed the napkin box in front of him, the smile on your face bright enough to dazzle the sun, “I’m joking. Seriously though, you don't need anything else. I think they'd be more welcome to someone twice my age…”

Twice your age?

Despite the fake documents and birth certificates that the royal secret services forged, the age put on the fake documents were similar to his own, for example, different birthday but the same year. On paper, Guy Thomas was the same age as Ari Levinson, both had turned 32 earlier this year.

He was six years older than you, not old enough to be your father!

The veins on his temple jumped with the beat of his heart.

He did not even look that old! Twice your age is what? 52 years old?

“…they are going to like you. One more thing, I need to know if you have any likes? Dislikes? Allergies?” You were so excited about your plan that you did not notice the muscles twitching down his neck.

“No allergies. Not that I know of.” Ari clenched his teeth. The rules bound to him ever since he was a child, telling him to be polite, were the only thing that prevented him from snarling after getting his ego (and his age) jabbed at.

You clapped your palms together, barely containing the giddiness from the bottom of your heart, somehow completely oblivious to Ari’s fuming, “Splendid! My parents think allergies are for the weak. They are going to love you.”

Later that night, Ari went drinking with an old friend of his, Sammy Navon.

Sammy recently returned from a trip with Doctors Without Borders, before that, he had served two years along with Ari in the Ballenian Royal Navy.

While Ari continued serving for two years each in the Air Force and the Army, Sammy did two more in the Navy before deciding that he preferred saving lives in countries struggling in poverty rather than on the battlefield, and spending last year in South Sudan.

Both Doctors Without Borders and the Ballenian Army did not leave much space for press, let alone personal communication, hence they had only been reunited for a few months.

The tall, lean man slumped on the chair, pouring himself a healthy dose of scotch.

“To what do I own the pleasure of the future king raiding my private collection?” Sammy drummed his long fingers on the bar counter, glancing over the empty tavern that the royal bodyguards had ordered to clear out.

“Can’t it be a men’s night out for old time's sake?” Ari half-complained and dumped two ice cubes in both of their glasses, “How’s South Sudan?”

“Diseases. Famine. Warlords. The likes.” Sammy grunted a “thank-you” for the ice, before asking back, “How’s the royal family? Did the plan work? To check out the girl you were going to marry?”

“Sort of.” Ari hissed due to the spiciness of the scotch, “Gah- This is some pretty strong stuff.”

Sammy smiled ever-so-faintly, “Sort of?” He mocked his friend’s voice, “What – she found out about it?”

“No. Not yet.” Ari chewed on some salty peanuts, “One thing though.” He cleared his throat, swallowing with another gulp of scotch, and asked, “Do I look 40?”

Sammy opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, which made Ari more miserable.

So he did look that old.

Sammy finished the liquor in his glass, and replied, grinning, “You mean with or without that bush on your face?”

Taglist (also tagging those who might be interested: @irishhappiness @patzammit @identity2212 @lokislady82 @petalj @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @magnificentsaladllama @xx-rennyxx @cringeycookies @autumnrose40 @hawkeyes-queen @vonalyn @theliheat @boo8008 @mrsevans90 @bradfordmyworld @delldenaro

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fluff #prince!ari levinson #royalty au #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson

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myfandomprompts · 1 year

Text

Dubious Headlines | Aemond Short Story (Part 2/3)

Aemond x Reader Modern!AU [Part 1 - Part 3]

Synopsis: In a world where Dragon Incorporation is the most powerful firm in town, Rhaenyra Targaryen's last announcement sends you, a journalist, to interview the younger sons of the family. However, you did not ask for any of this.

“Please please please, I beg you Y/N.”

“Mathilda, let me remind you that you are the one who owes me one. Not the other way around!”

You put your last coins into the coffee machine, waiting for your beverage to be served, your friend begging next to you.

“I know I do but this is different! All that you have to do is come with me, sit your ass down, raise your hand every now and then and nothing more! You won’t even have to talk.”

You retrieved your cup before raising your eyes at your friend, arching a brow high, jaded. “This actually sounds worse Mathilda. You want me to… what, basically do nothing and watch while I have a ton of work waiting for me? Sorry but next time.”

You made your way to your desk again, determined to not yield to her pleading eyes. She stayed close behind.

“You know it’s more than that! Sam is usually the one to do it, he is on that other thing and you know we have more chances to get picked at press conferences if we are at least two! Come on, those Targaryens serve the best buffets, you will love it! Think of all the people you might meet for your future articles.”

You almost choked on your coffee when you heard the family name of the owners of Dragon Inc., blue and lilac eyes flashing into your mind, but you quickly recovered. “This is a press conference about the subdivision of Dragon Inc.? We are still covering that?” you asked rather eagerly, failing in staying cool in front of your colleague.

“Yes it is. I thought you would be interested since you were the one to get that exclusive interview. Great job by the way!” she winked.

Her attempts at buttering you up failed as you only responded with a cold and hard look, making her cheer smile disappear and be replaced by a grimace. It had been her fault if you had been forced to do that interview. Yes, the article had been a hit online, people a little too feral at the second son’s long due opinion, but you refused to do anything similar again, and you also refused to do other people’s jobs while they decided to bail out of work. Like Mathilda had.

“Tell you what,” she continued, resolute to have you on board, “You come with me, and I am your photographer for Sunday’s event.”

You raised a brow at her again. “You mean the fountain inauguration?”

“Yes yes whatever, I’m your gal.”

You bit the inside of your cheek in hesitation. “I don’t need a photographer.”

“Yeah right. I’ve seen your pictures. I assure you, your articles deserve better photos, and I am quite good at this. Please Y/N.”

She was right, of course, but you were still hesitant. But even if you would not admit it, you had made your decision the minute you heard the word “Targaryen”.

“Let it be clear between us: you still owe me. Big time.”

Mathilda’s face lit up at your words. “You won’t regret it! You are a life saver.”

“Yeah…” you sighed, looking at the unfinished article on your screen.

The corporate headquarters were in the city centre, and thankfully for you, Mathilda seemed to know her way around as you grabbed a press badge and headed in one of the alleys of chairs in the conference hall, taking a seat two rows away from the stage. The loud murmurs began to fade as the subjects of your presence entered the room, taking place on the table in front of mikes.

In your opinion, you thought press conferences to be rather dull, gladly letting your other colleagues attend to them as you preferred to be tasked with other assignments, but every so often you would be forced to attend. Now it was one of those times, except that you only had to raise your hand every now and then, and let Mathilda do what she knew best as you relaxed into your chair. What a blast.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, beautiful and classy looking, was in the middle of the table, towering over the room, next to her uncle Daemon and other people you assumed to be part of the board. Mathilda whispered some of their names into your ear as they took a seat, among them Otto Hightower or Larys Strong, but quickly you weren’t listening any more as you saw three people that needed no introduction enter.

Aegon Targaryen, sunglasses on top of his head and hair tied in a bun, was followed by his sister Helaena, shy in appearance, and finally Aemond, who took place at the far left end of the table, just in front of where your seat was.

You swallowed nervously as you watched his eye scan the entire room with intensity while you took care in making yourself as small as possible, hidden behind the reporter in front of you.

As Rhaenyra opened the conference and hands rose up in the hair, yours included, you witnessed how the one-eyed Targaryen quickly fell into polite boredom, looking sometimes at his phone as all of the questions seemed directed only to his eldest sister. Aegon even engaged in a conversation with his grandfather during one of her replies, by disrespectful intent or simple inattention, you did not know.

At one point you had lost yourself so much in the way Aemond’s fingers moved on the table that the sudden voice of Mathilda next to you, finally picked to ask her questions, pulled you out of your reveries and forced you to pay attention. Her question was unsurprisingly directed at Aegon, and the Targaryen was finally able to talk for the first time. You listened to his voice, which you found to be far less enticing than his brother’s and risked a glance at the man in question, who was now paying attention to what was said again.

You were not prepared for the chills that covered your body when you witnessed his gaze dart from Mathilda, surely looking for the journalist that had taken interest in this brother, and then locking on to you, eyes widening slightly at your sight. You quickly averted your gaze back to Aegon, feigning to be focused on his words as you tried to control your heartbeat, until the eldest son ended his speech and drew your eyes to his brother again, finding him still looking at you. If Aemond Targaryen had been bored moments before, he certainly was not any more.

Mathilda nudged your side to give you a satisfied smile that you returned to her, letting out the breath you did not know you were holding and sat back in your chair, more than happy that the reporter in front of you had moved just enough to hide the silver-haired man from your view.

Then the conference came to an end and you had got up and tried to drag Mathilda by the arm, eager to leave but she had told you that she needed to see a bunch of people first in order to write her article. You had no choice but to stay when someone called out to her in the crowded lobby.

“Miss Swanson!”

Mathilda turned on her heels to face Aegon, smiling and extending his hand to shake hers. “M. Targaryen. A pleasure as always,” she said, warmly returning his smile.

He returned the greetings and when formalities were exchanged, he turned to look at you. “This is my colleague, Miss L/N,” Mathilda introduced you. “She is the author of the latest Westerosi’s article about your firm. Well, for now,” she winked, pointing her finger at her pad.

“Pleased to meet you M.Targaryen,” you said, extending your hand to meet his.

“Ah yes, a fine work you have done. I know my brother can be quite difficult sometimes, but you were up to the task I believe.”

You thanked him with a grateful smile. Aegon Targaryen turned out to be more charming than you had imagined, his confident attitude giving him the true appearance of a leader, even if you did not completely agree with his view on his brother.

Mathilda then inquired about the next steps of Aegon’s plans for his branch among other things, and you quickly lost interest until a tall figure approached Aegon from behind.

“… for the next few weeks. In fact, my brother here-” Aegon said as he saw his brother appear at his side, tapping his back, “-will be the one to take care of it. He is far more knowledgable in this matter than me,” he laughed as Aemond smiled politely, taking his place inside the circle just before you.

“Let me guess. This is about the investment plan, correct?” he inquired, glancing at his brother with a side look.

“Right on the mark as always,” Aegon smiled again. “Lovely Mathilda here had done her homework and already knew of it. It seems that I just cannot hide anything from her.”

Aemond only hummed as his eye examined your friend, lowering his head in a silent greeting before speaking. “This is not supposed to be made public before another week. I would be grateful if you kept the conversation you just had with my brother out of the records please.”

His tone was polite, and his voice soft, and you wondered how this man, possessing such charisma had not made it to the top yet. Mathilda could only nod as Aegon gently chuckled.

“Sometimes I truly wonder if you should not rather be the head of communication, and myself the head of finance brother.”

“Mhh,” was Aemond’s only reply. You all thought he would speak again but he remained perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back and Mathilda resumed her conversation with Aegon again.

You were unable to listen to what they said, Aemond’s eye was once again on you, his lips slightly curved upwards. “I’m surprised to see you here, Miss L/N, I thought that this kind of event wasn’t falling into your usual area of expertise.”

“Oh, I am just Mathilda’s second on this. She needed a plus one," you managed to say, glad to not be the first to break the ice. Or rather the unbearable tension that hanged in the air between you.

“Mh. I thought as much. It seemed we are both doomed to be the shadow of someone today for I am ensuring that Aegon does not say anything he shouldn’t," he smiled, glancing at his sibling. “Although I have already failed, it seems.”

You scoffed at that, glancing briefly at your side where Mathilda and the other Targaryen were deep into conversation. You didn’t know they were that close.

“Did you have the chance to read the article I wrote, M. Targaryen?”

He was tempted to tell you to call him by his first name instead of being so formal, but as he considered it he decided that hearing his name on your lips would be a dangerous thing for his self-control, your voice speaking his last name already music to his ears.

Maybe later. “I did. I really enjoyed it. But I did not expect anything else from you.” he paused as he saw you blush a bit. “From someone from your firm, I mean.”

You weakly nodded, your throat becoming a little dry but at the same time two pairs of eyes landed on you and Aemond as their own conversation ended on their side. “Well, ladies, even though I would rather spend time with you than with all of these vultures, it would be unfair if we stayed to speak with only you instead of sharing our time with your peers. If you will excuse us…”

Aemond’s serious look had reappeared and both brothers were now walking toward another circle of journalists.

You inhaled sharply as you stared into Aemond’s back. “Can we go now? You have everything that you need?”

“Hey, don’t be so grumpy, you just met two of the most influential men in town!”

“Yeah right,” you scoffed as you both walked to the exit. “You still owe me one.”

It was cold for a Sunday morning, hands safely tucked into your coat as you walked toward the main plaza where a small crowd had already gathered. Officials from the city hall were standing next to the inaugural ribbon installed for the occasion, and you waved at the several familiar faces as you scanned the crowd to find your newly appointed photographer.

“Here you are! Way to be on time Y/N.”

“There was traffic from the main road to here. It was to be expected.”

Mathilda looked over your shoulder to where you just came from, acknowledging the mass of cars.

“I guess. Really thought it would be too cold for anyone to show up. Anyway, I took some pictures already,” she said as she put out her camera for you to see. “The mayor… the architect team… and oh look! How cute is this dog?”

You chuckled as you saw the picture of a dog stretching, his tiny tail in the air.

“Very cute! Did you get a picture of M. Hernet?” you asked, looking around for the man in question.

“Who?” your friend said, face confused.

You sighed in despair. “The deputy. The one in charge of the project, the most important man of the event?”

Her confused look deepened as you watched her face become slightly worried. You regretted your behaviour at once.

“Sorry just, don’t worry he will be the one to cut the ribbon anyway, you will get a better picture then.”

Mathilda nodded, reassured. Where she knew the business world, you knew the political world and culture, and as you made your way across the crowd to do your job, Mathilda continued her task at taking pictures admirably.

It took a whole hour of hand shaking and recorded conversations between officials and citizens before the inauguration began and for the deputy to take place behind the rostrum and speak. You only had to stand back and take notes for now, Mathilda next to you.

“… and I would like first to thank our most generous benefactor that made this fine homage to our beloved city possible, M. Aemond Targaryen from Dragon Incorporation who is here with us today…”

You felt blood rush into your ears as applause erupted around you, following the deputy’s gaze to land on the silver-haired man standing next to his assistant and the mayor, politely smiling as the people cheered him briefly. You felt Mathilda’s jaw drop next to you.

“Oh my god… did you know about this?”

You shook your head in response as you kept staring at him, wondering how you did not notice him before, his perfectly groomed hair glittering in the sun and a long green coat, making him ethereal.

“That’s a first. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him attend official stuff like that,” your friend commented, quite surprised yourself at his presence but deciding that for the moment, you had to focus on the speech above all else.

The deputy kept on with a rather long one, enumerating other benefactors and underlining the importance of city identity for what seemed like an eternity before the scissors were brought to him. Still focused but feeling the event near the end, you put away your pen and kept your notes safely into your hands as Mathilda had gone to find a higher point to find a better angle to take pictures.

You slowly found yourself in the back of the crowd as the deputy cut the ribbon, revealing the brand new fountain with the statue of Bran the Builder, an eminent historical figure of your town.

“That’s rather ugly, isn’t it?”

You jumped at the voice next to your ear, finding Aemond Targaryen standing next to you, eye examining the face of Bran the builder with an interested look. Damn he was tall.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at Bran’s disproportionate body, crooked nose and prominent moustache, trying to ignore how good the man at your side smelled.

“Don’t lie Miss L/N. I know you have finer tastes than this, I have read your articles on the latest art exhibition at the city gallery.”

You felt a jolt of pride as you realised that Aemond Targaryen had taken an interest in your other works, but you decided to play it humble.

“At least he is recognisable,” you replied, internally laughing. “You like art, M. Targaryen?”

“I do. In fact my mother and I had opened a gallery of our own to expose art that deserved better treatment in our opinion. You would love it, I think.”

You looked at him with enthusiasm, your interest definitely picked up as he looked very satisfied with himself.

“Is it open to the public? I have never heard of it.”

“Not yet, but I would be honoured if you were the first to review it and publish something about it. I know your opinion to be usually of value and on point."

“Then I will stop by,” you grinned, happy to be part of such an exclusive occasion. You knew his mother Alicent was a reputed art amateur with a very good eye for talented painters. No wonder his son would be as refined as her.

You both watched in comfortable silence as people kept on applauding at the structure, the mayor advancing to shake hands with the deputy and the architect’s team, big smiles on their faces. Then your journalist instinct kicked in again.

“I have to ask,” you began, “As a benefactor, was the contribution in the name of your firm or was it your own money?”

“If you wish to interview me again, we should find a less crowded place to do so Miss L/N.”

“It’s a simple question. It can be off the record if you want," you replied. “And you can call me Y/N.”

Aemond’s gaze scanned you with intensity, pausing as you unconsciously reached for your pen again, awaiting his response. “Very well, Y/N,” you felt something twitch in your stomach at that last word as he reported his eye on the statue. “On the record, I will say that our family takes great care in our city's legacy, since we are ourselves descending from the founders, so it was important to us that the company as a whole contributes to further establish its greatness.”

You stopped yourself from arguing over the veracity of his claim about his family being one of the founders and kept on.

“So you are only here as your family representative?”

“Correct,” his eye did not glance away from the fountain as he leaned in closer to you, his breath reaching your skin. “And, off the record, I have hated every moment of it until now.”

You could only stare at him as he stood back straight again, a faint smile on his lips, and you thought that your heart had stopped beating. He had to stop whatever he was doing, or else you would be unable to remember how to breathe properly.

“For what it’s worth,” you said, clearing your throat as you reported your gaze on the fountain as well. “I think you are doing a great job for someone who doesn’t like public appearances.”

You felt his eye pass on you briefly but said nothing before the mayor took the stand again, stealing your professional attention as you listened to him thanking subordinates and the citizens for their unfailing support. You felt your body relax as the people started to step closer in order to examine the fountain, letting your arms fall at your sides leisurely.

The next moment you felt your fingers touch something warm and quickly looked down to see Aemond’s hand inches away from yours. Your index then seemed to move on his own accord, reaching for the back of his hand that remained perfectly still, and in your trance state you could feel blood pump into your ears.

You completely lost yourself in the feeling of how soft his skin was for a moment, all things around you put on mute, until you saw his hand twitch, as if suddenly awaken by your touch. It made you realise what you were doing and pull out your hand in a sharp movement, apologising immediately as you met his perplexed look. What the hell were you doing?

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t mean to-”

“Your hands are freezing,” he interrupted.

And yours are burning hot, you thought. It was incredible how warm his skin has been under your fingers, convinced that his touch would leave a mark on yours.

“Oh it’s nothing, I get cold hands really quickly so…”

He reached for your hand again and it took everything you had not to moan on the spot as he put it inside both of his palms, sending shivers up into your arm at his warmth. You could have stayed hours like this, yearning for more while he just stared at your palm, tracing small circles into the inside of your wrist. You both said nothing, his eye slightly hooded with something you did not recognise and after a while, it was his turn to realise what he was doing and gently let go of your hand, tucking his hands back safely into his coat pockets before further embarrassing himself. Your skin itched in frustration.

“You should drink something warm,” he stated, looking around him, his face becoming slightly red. “There is a c-”

“M. Targaryen!”

A man called Simon, the city hall press supervisor that you had known for many years now, was making his way through the crowd, and as he saw you next to Aemond, his eyes brightened when he recognised you. “Ah Y/N! Beautiful as always….” he said, shaking your hand as you briefly sensed Aemond tense slightly next to you. “I’m glad they sent you!”

“Who else?” you smiled back, happy for the distraction he granted you from Aemond’s burning touch. He turned to the man in question.

“M. Targaryen, would you be so kind as to join the mayor in order to take some pictures? It will only take a moment.”

You saw him bite his lip in frustration, clearly not attracted by the prospect of doing such a public act, but he ultimately obliged, following Simon to the front as you tried not to think of how his lower lip had slightly reddened at the movement.

“Okay, I think I have everything,” you heard Mathilda say as she reached you, eyes locked on the screen of her camera. “You’re gonna be happy with those.”

You only hummed in acknowledgment as you watched Aemond display a fake smile of contentment and shake hands amidst the camera flashes. You tried not to cringe too much when multiple women went to him in order to talk to him as the mayor released him.

“What are you staring at like that? You’re not even blinking.”

You detached your gaze from Aemond at once, not wishing for Mathilda to conclude anything before turning on your heels to leave.

“Nothing. I’ll head home and start writing. You’ll send me the picture soon, okay?”

Mathilda nodded as she watched you leave, clearly taken aback by your shift of mood.

Near the fountain, Aemond cursed the many people blocking his way as he saw you leave.

Part 3

@khaleesihavilliard @dollfaceyourfear @cecespizza01 @julczimozart @missusnora @bb-swift @cbfvip @depressedperson88 @nitimurinvetitumsposts @this-is-a-bad-idea @issshhh @virginslut08

#aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #fluff #aemond oneshot #hotd #aemond au #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond modern au #aemond modern #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond targaryen modern #modern!aemond #aemond x you

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bucknastysbabe · 11 months

Note

Criston cole x alicent daughter reader maybe aemonds sister and it be like when the dinner happens or something idk I just sadly love him

I SADLY LOVE INCEL KNIGHT TOO HE JUST— UGHGNGGNGNGBGNG ANGST

Immaculate - Ser Criston Cole

Ratings: Mature

Tags: Fantasies from Criston (no actual touch), his hateful internal monologue, anxiety attacks, weird pseudo Incest moments w Step daddy Cole, star crossed lovers type beat, Mentions of self-harm. This is just kinda angsty and strange

Criston waited outside the doors after the King was escorted away in a coughing fit, his disease taking over again. He was on guard for the Queen, always, as was his duty as sworn shield. Once the maesters were secured with the wasting king he had returned. Alicent had let royal guards stay on the inside of the room as his appearance may ‘unnerve’ some.

He knew what she meant. The cunt and her bastard seed. It made his chest swell with anger, bitterness, and that residual hurt he would never disclose to another. Just her whore he was. Years hadn’t quelled the ache when the knight thought back on it. So he tried not to.

Instead Criston spent the time attempting to overcome that eternal shame and stain on his once pristine white cloak and take care of the true born Targaryens, strange as they could be. He loved them all in their own way. An unsettled feeling sat in his gut from the ongoing dinner. There had been peace for too long and Viserys wasn’t there to hold up that invisible wall between the two clans.

As predicted, the dinner erupted into chaos. Criston entered from the back as Daemon was glaring down Aemond who simply swaggered off. Otto and Helaena stood awkwardly as the youngest princess watched with wide eyes. Rhaenyra and the rogue prince left immediately. Criston eyed Aegon who ambled back over to finish his cup.

The heir giggled at his sisters, “Wasn’t that grand?”

Otto sniped, “Extremely distasteful, shoving the lad’s head into the table and acting like children.”

Aegon, tongue rendered loose and bitter when he was in his cups began to argue with his grandsire. Criston locked eyes with Alicent, her own brimming with emotion. She ordered, “Take her to bed please.” He nodded dutifully and offered an arm to the second-born daughter, the poor thing grabbing him like a lifeline.

She would get overwhelmed quickly, not a good trait to have for a Targaryen. Alicent mused about sending her to be a Septa for years. Until the matter of the succession loomed ever closer. Septa had upgraded to a political pawn for whoever could offer gold and an army. Although the process had been stagnant. Criston didn’t mind that, much as he couldn’t speak of it, she was his favorite.

“There’s a war coming,” she warbled, doe eyes wide.

“Not yet sweetling, it may come to pass,” he hummed, squeezing her arm with his other hand as they passed through long halls. She shook blonde locks and pressed on, “No, no, I know it, look how we hate one another. That was dreadful. Mother’s going to sell me to a Lannister and make me take Gharion into battle.”

She whimpered at the end of her sentence, steps stumbling a bit. Criston looked down in concern, brows furrowing at his distressed princess. He wasn’t the best with comforting…still he would try. Rubbing her slim arm again he shushed, “Shh, hush now, you’re going to drive yourself up a wall thinking of things that haven’t occurred.”

Arriving at her chambers, he tried to dislodge her tight grip gently. The princess held on with a death grip, lilac eyes feverish as she begged, “Please don’t leave me alone, please Ser Cole.” He frowned, chest flipping and clenching at her cracking voice. The knight knew better, he just needed to get her to bed and leave. Last time he stepped foot in a Targaryen princess’ bedchambers it did not end well.

“I can’t sweetling, I’ll be out and about on patrol, not far away,” he said softly.

More tears leaked from gorgeous eyes. Criston was going to lose his already cracked willpower, he knew that much. “Please, please, I don’t want to be alone,” she wept, beginning to shake. He grimaced at her face going ashen and the tremors becoming worse, breath thinning into heaves. “Oh princess,” he sighed and picked the slip of a thing up.

She was having another fit, something the maesters said was due to ‘a hysterical temperament’. Shaking and crying and sucking in breaths until she received a couple drops of diluted poppy milk. He hated seeing them, made him want to coddle and pet her. Then he’d feel disgusting afterwards, emotions all twisted for the princess about less than half his age. The Seven cursed him for that.

“Where’s the poppy milk,” the brunette asked, laying her down on the impossibly huge bed. She managed to point a shaky finger at the large wardrobe. In two strides Criston opened it up and found the little glass bottle, swirling it around. Coming to perch on the bed he held the dropper out for the Princess, leaving two upon her tongue.

She relaxed soon after, but little hands were back tight in his cloak, twisted up. Criston clenched his jaw, unsure of how to navigate this. The princess asked sleepily, “Ser Criston, you’ll escort me to Casterly Rock right? And stay a bit? What if Lord Lannister is mean and awful to me?”

Criston would gladly rip the idiot’s throat out and present it to court if he put a hand on his sweetling. In the calmest voice possible Cole responded, “Yes I’m sure there will be Kingsguard present, knowing the Queen I’ll be there on watch for a bit.” She sighed softly, seeming more relaxed.

Silence enveloped the pair for a long time, Criston lost in his hateful thoughts. He needed to repent later. Drawing his sick blood would suffice. Shuffling and covers moving sounded from behind. The knight stiffened when she put her chin on his pauldron, hands finding his own. The princess murmured in a slight slur, “I love you Ser Criston. You always take good care of me.”

He wanted to cry but the brunette held her soft hands and hummed, “I love you too dear girl, don’t fret, I’ll protect you as long as I can.” She nuzzled into his dark hair, making no further moves, breathing in his scent. Scenes of stretching her pretty cunt flitted past his mind, her heaving pale body, melodic voice raw from crying his name. Dragging his cock along her innocent folds, the maiden incarnate.

Criston blinked and realized he needed to get out of here, very fast. He rasped to the princess, “I need to get on duty now sweet girl. I’ll be back later I promise.” She looked unhappy, begging a couple more times as Criston laced up and put on his helmet. He shook his head and shrugged her off, heart cracking in his chest.

“Ser please,” she whined, lilac eyes watery and so so achingly pure. Criston shook his head and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She gasped and stared, hands dropping. “You promise you’ll come back?,” she warbled. He nodded resolutely, beginning to shut the door. Criston wanted to beat himself black and blue doing his rounds.

The Seven constantly testing him by sending these abominable Targaryens, so impure yet there she was. He was weak and already failed once, he couldn’t fail again. Criston still came back to her chambers after the hour of the Wolf, exhausted. He sat down in a chair and watched her ethereal face, the moonlight casting a glow on perfect features.

Hatred boiling and churning in his chest Criston began to pull at his lower armor, what she wouldn’t know wouldn’t hurt. He’d take that pain for the girl fifty times over. That’s what Criston was here for anyways. Pain. Tarnish everything that may have once been good on his body.

#hotd fanfic #criston cole x reader #targ princess!reader

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pumpk1n-writes · 11 months

Text

Tell Me All About The Dark Places You Hide ~ Part Nine

➥ in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. Drugs and alcohol, murder, short chapter, fake knives, real knives, Billy and Stu being soft for each other}

Part Eight | Part Ten || Word Count ~ 830 Words

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid @katie-tibo @laurajmcmanus @sparklyphantom @minkyungseokie @misscaller06 @juda-the-simp @severuslovebot @asdorlia @billysbae @lilac-fangirl @bloody-delusion-expert @rubyroscoe1 @honeynicoole @ok-boke @thatonetallweirdo @ren-ni @fictionalcharacterslut @ennycutie @moneyoverl0v3 @lexasaurs634

Your heart was racing as you ran, laughing, around Stu’s kitchen and living room as he chased you with a soup ladle. Billy watched from the couch, a smile gracing his usually serious face. It was a picture taken from people who deserved to be happy and in love, not a merry group of murderers.

All too soon, it was over, and the three of you were back to planning. You checked the food and made sure the blood capsules and fake knives were safely hidden in the pantry, along with the second Ghostface costume, and the door was locked. You turned around to one of the most surprising images you’d ever seen. Billy had both of Stu’s hands in his and was giving him a pep talk of some sort. He finished and patted Stu’s cheek, and nobody made any sort of weird joke.

You smiled to yourself and shepherded Billy out of the house, tossing his own Ghostface costume towards him for the first part of the plan. You found most of the anxiety of what you were going to do leave your body as the first few party guests arrived.

Around an hour passed and you were well on your way to giving up and murdering Sidney in her own house and completing the job right then before you heard Tatum’s voice and Stu’s greeting. They were finally here. Rolling your eyes in resignation, you took a final swig from your beer and slammed it on the table, turning around and plastering a fake smile onto your face.

You stumbled over to them, watered down beer sloshing in your solo cup. You purposefully slurred your words in your best attempt at a drunken stupor. Leaning heavily on Stu, you pretended to think really hard about what you were about to say. “How…” a pause while you furrowed your eyebrows, ignoring Stu’s hand snaking down your back. “Are you?” You beamed happily at them and the two girls laughed.

“Having fun already, are we?”

You nodded, waiting until they were out of sight before dropping the act and groaning to Stu. “That was perhaps the stupidest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Stu laughed at you, patting your shoulder. “It was your idea. You have to be passed out on the couch in order for Act 3 to happen.”

You groaned again rubbing your face with your hands. “Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The next part of the plan was quickly approaching, and you watched Stu send Tatum out for more beer and then lock the door. You quickly put on the act again, pouring half a beer into your cup and stumbling out to the living room to listen to Randy’s rant about horror movie rules.

The phone call came in and you watched happily as everyone left. You giggled to yourself, laying down on the couch against Randy’s shoulder and closing your eyes.

*DiViDeR*

You woke up to find Randy gone and Sidney frantically shaking your shoulder. “Valerie! Valerie please wake up, please.” You pretended to sit up groggily, looking at her with an unspoken question. “It’s Billy, it’s always been Billy.”

You sat up straight, standing up and facing Sidney. “What? No, I don’t believe it. He was perfect, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” You internally vomited at the words coming out of your mouth. There was blood everywhere, and if you peeked through the hallway, you could the see the open door revealing the bodies of Dewey and Gale Weathers. When had she gotten here?

Billy stalked through the hallway, seeing you with your back to him, talking to Sidney. He switched the knife in his hand for the fake one and came up behind you, tapping your shoulder. You screamed and turned around, rolling your eyes as soon Sidney couldn’t see.

He stabbed, puncturing the blood packet, then stabbed again and again. You fell into Sidney, pleading with her to run. She did. Straight into Stu.

She was cornered in the kitchen, Billy behind her and Stu in front. She seemed pretty preoccupied to pay attention to you, so you silently stood up and moved, limping pathetically to sell the act. toward the kitchen.

“Oh my God. Valerie, you’re alive. Please, please. The gun is on the table. Please.” Her pleads we’re pathetic. You wanted to shoot her perfect little face.

You whimpered to make the “wounds” believable, limping over to the table. Stu shot forward to “stop” you, except you decided to change a few things about the plan.

You grabbed the gun from the table, pointing it at Sidney’s stomach and firing two shots in quick succession.

“What the fuck?” Billy yelled, anger filling his eyes. “That wasn’t part of the plan!”

“Not your plan, no. But mine?” You pointed the barrel towards Billy’s forehead. Something told him you knew your way around a gun and wouldn’t miss. “It’s all part of mine.”

#scream 1996 #billy loomis scream #scream #billy loomis #stu macher my beloved #stu matcher x reader #stu macher #Stu macher x Billy loomis x reader

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klonnieshippersclub · 6 months

Text

Where You Belong (Runaway Hope AU) Pt.2

In celebration of reaching 100 followers, here’s part 2 of the Runaway Hope AU (Where You Belong) from @cancerian-woman and @mythorhuman . Thanks so much for this special gift! More Klonnie works to come with Klonnie Weekend from Dec. 29 to Jan. 1. Please see Part One Here.

To Bonnie’s surprise, she chickened out. Bonnie knew that she was not a coward, but she couldn’t bring herself to dial the old number she had for Klaus. She did NOT want to hear the laughter in his hypnotically smooth voice. It was seductive, and she did NOT need to be distracted as he inevitably taunted her for accidentally kidnapping his child.

Maybe it was her social anxiety kicking in. It was easier to pretend to be more extroverted in her life before vampires. She was a former cheerleader, so being in crowds didn’t scare her. However, constantly being in danger did kill her social skills. Who even talks on the phone anymore? A text will do.

That man was ridiculous and had Bonnie aching to pull her hair out. Oh, how he knew the best ways to push all her buttons. She didn’t even send him her address but knew Klaus would find her. Her fingers fidgeted with nerves. It had been some time since she last faced an Original. Since then, she’s kicked the devil’s ass and stomped out hellfire. It wasn’t his physical strength that scared her. Bonnie was more concerned about the impact seeing Klaus would have on Hope.

Bonnie truly adored the youngest Mikaelson in the family, and she hoped that Klaus knew she would never harm a child. She was fully aware of his paranoia regarding threats to his family. The girl hadn’t seen her family in some time. Was Klaus showing up just to abandon her for the best? Bonnie didn’t think so.

She knew Hope would be excited to see her father. The disappointment from the child and parent parting again would crush Hope’s soul. All she could do was spend the rest of the day distracting Hope. When Bonnie first told Hope she would contact her father, the girl looked slightly distressed as she anticipated a lecture from her dad. Aware of their shared love for art, Bonnie planned to drag Hope to a museum before dinner, and then they could practice a little ballet before bed.

Hours in the early morning, Bonnie heard repeated knocks on her door. It was dawn, and some stranger seemed determined to get her attention. The Bennett witch hopped out of bed in her lilac satin nightgown with lace trim and reached for the matching robe. She rushed to the door with determination to end the knocking before Hope awakened. Bonnie pulled open the door to discover that it was NOT a stranger.

“What the hell, Klaus?” Bonnie asked with a dramatic eye roll. She was holding back the urge to slam the door in his face.

Klaus eyed her in the short nightgown before answering. “Hello, my little witch. My, have you grown, and yet it almost looks like you’ve barely aged.”

Bonnie wrapped the robe she was carrying around herself. She hated that she didn’t hate his stare and the way his eyes admired her body. “Dying over and over again is the best anti-aging solution out there. That and magic.”

“On to important things, where is my daughter?” Klaus shifted from playful to stern as he looked behind Bonnie. There was a coldness in his glare as he barged into Bonnie’s living room with the intent of finding his daughter.

“She is upstairs in my guest bedroom. Hope has my ancestor’s talisman around her neck that should protect her from the Hollow long enough for you to bring her back to school.”

The hybrid sighed in disbelief at the ludicrous nature of this situation. His child had run from the Salvatore Boarding School, and the only teacher to contact him about Hope being gone was across the ocean. “That school clearly isn’t capable of watching her. You know, Hope has written to me about you and your impact on her life.” There had to be another boarding school more qualified to care for Hope.

“Oh yeah? Did you write back?” With an arched brow, Bonnie couldn’t help but voice how unimpressed she was by Klaus’ lack of communication with Hope.

Didn’t the Bennett witch know all about doing things for the betterment of others? Not speaking with Hope hurt him as much as it pained his daughter. “Limited contact was for the best.”

“Hope needs her parents. She needs her family and not to be sent to a boarding school where she feels like an outcast.”

“Thank you for caring for my daughter, Ms. Bennett, but you are not her parent.”

“Maybe I should be,” Bonnie challenged with her hands on her hips. Both Klaus and Bonnie turned at the sound of little feet scampering towards them.

“Daddy!” the redhead child appeared at the top of the stairs. She rushed down each step and launched herself into her father’s arms. Finally, everything felt right to Hope. She had her two favorite people in the world with her. It felt like home. A part of Hope longed for the three of them to be a family.

Thank you to @mythorhuman and @cancerian-woman again for this beautiful AU! I can’t wait to see more works from the Klonnie fans out there.

-Rikki

#submission #klonnie #bonnie bennett #klaus mikaelson #bonnie x klaus #klaus x bonnie #the vampire diaries #tvd #the originals #klonnie fic #klonnie fanfic #mythorhuman #cancerian-woman #rikkisinbox #tvd au

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elliespassagerprincess · 8 months

Note

I've been obsessed with john buckleys "everybody here wants you" I'd love to see your take on it maybe from the readers pov like where we are admiring ellie

Everybody here wants you - (ellie williams x reader)

Hi anon! your wish, is command... I hope you enjoy <3

This story is based off the song Everybody here wants you by Jeff Buckley, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

Requests are always open feel free to leave one or just send me a song and I'll take it from there:) or just send me your thoughts....

HUGE Warning: obsession, stalking, murder, gore, self harm, reader is unhinged, Dina slander (we love Dina but for the sake of the plot we're haters)

Summary: In which you fell in love with someone you couldn't have

wc: 1.9k

29 pearls in your kiss

A singing smile

Coffee smell and lilac skin

Your flame in me

I'm only here for this moment

When you first laid eyes on Ellie it felt like your body was on fire.

Ellie awakened some deep desire in you, that even you yourself didn’t understand.

When she caught you staring all she could do was give you a small smile, and you felt your stomach erupt with butterflies. Even after she caught you, you couldn’t help but to continue staring.

The way her autumn brown hair was in a half up, half down look, the way the red and green flannel hugged her arms the right way, how her side profile looked. Just everything about her. Everything about her was without fault.

god really has his favorites huh?

You didn’t know who she was, you didn’t know her name but god she was doing things to you. You got up from where you were sitting and walked behind her. As soon as you walked past her, a strong scent of pinewood hit you.

Wow jesus, ok does she bath in her perfume? You thought to yourself.

As you stood at the other side of the room watching this beautiful woman you heard someone scream “Ellie” the autumn brown haired girl’s head snapped up, looking at another girl.

You wanted to vomit.

You wanted to stab your eyes out after watching Ellie smile with someone else.

“Dina!” Ellie screamed back standing up and immediately running to the girl with dark hair and hugging her. Even though you were filled with jealousy you knew her name now.

Ellie.

Your Ellie.

I know everybody here wants you

I know everybody here thinks he needs you

I'll be waiting right here just to show you

How our love will blow it all away

You weren’t stupid. Ellie was an attractive girl. The day you met Ellie you saw how people looked at her. The way their gaze’s lingered on her beautiful face. Whether it was men or women it seemed that Ellie’s beauty had everyone in awe.

Everybody here wanted Ellie. Everybody in this room did.

How would Ellie notice you when there’s hundreds, probably thousands of people throwing themselves at her.

That day when you first saw Ellie and found out her name, you spent exactly 72 hours looking for her Instagram. You went through thousands of accounts trying to find her. When you eventually found Ellie’s Instagram you learned a lot more about her.

She loved skating, she’s very gay and she has a best friend named Dina.

You let out a sigh of relief when you realized that they were only friends. But the way Ellie smiled at her made your stomach churn.

You saw Dina as a threat.

Who wouldn’t? She was everything you weren’t. And at least Ellie knew of her existence.

You clicked on Dina’s profile going through each one of her posts, comments and everything about her. You memorized Dina’s page, every post, comment and caption. You had to figure out what Ellie saw in Dina. You had to become Dina.

A week went by, and neither Ellie or Dina posted anything. You felt like you were losing your mind. As soon as you wanted to give up and move on, Dina made a post that she was throwing a huge party. A smile appeared on your face. This was your chance.

Miracles do happen. You were going to that party. And you were going to get Ellie’s number.

Hmm, such a thing of wonder in this crowd

I'm a stranger in this town

You're free with me

And our eyes locked in downcast love

I sit here proud

Even now, you're undressed in your dreams with me

You shouldn’t have come here. Everybody in this room wanted Ellie. The way they all started at her with hungry eyes, the way they were practically undressing her with their eyes. You didn’t like this. You didn’t like the way they were looking at your girl.

You were burning holes into the back of Ellie’s head at this point. Ellie turned around frowning when somebody bumped into her, and for the first time in almost two weeks the two of you locked eyes again.

Ellie gave you a smile. That fucking smile. The same one she gave you two weeks ago. You sat there frozen after she turned away. You didn’t know if you should cry or be excited. Ellie smiled at you. She definitely wants you.

You felt out of place. Everyone in this stupid party knew each other. You felt like you didn’t belong. You hated being here, but if it means you’ll be in Ellie’s presence a little longer you’ll put up with it.

“Hi” you heard a voice say behind you, and when you turned around your eyes met with Dina’s.

“Hi Dina” you said softly.

“How do you know my name?”

fuck how did you know her name?

were you supposed to tell the truth? that you were stalking her?

“I’m a friend of Ellie’s” you smiled.

“Oh! A friend of Ellie’s is a friend of mine!” She gave you a bright smile bringing you in for a hug.

“It was nice meeting you” Dina smiled as she started walking away. Your eyes followed her seeing that she was walking towards Ellie.

Fuck fuck fuck no no no

what happens if she asks Ellie about you? They would know you’re a fake. And you’d never get a chance with Ellie.

“Hey Dina” you called out and she turned toward you, “yeah?” she yelled over the music.

“Can you please show me where the bathroom is?”

“Oh yeah follow me” Dina reached out you, offering her hand so that you can grab it. The two of you walked in the crowd hand in hand.

Dina was talking too much. She’s so fucking annoying you thought to yourself.

What does Ellie see in her?

“Here we go” Dina said as she pushed open a door. The room was decorated with white and blue wallpaper, and there was a bed in the middle of the room.

“You want me to pee on the bed?” you questioned.

“No silly” Dina laughed she walked to the other side of the room pushing open another door, revealing a bathroom.

“Wait let me check if there’s toilet paper- “

Dina’s body landed on the floor with a thud as blood seeped from her head. You stood above her holding a lamp heavily breathing. Tears pricked your eyes.

What the fuck were you thinking? You weren’t a killer. You never wanted to harm Dina.

You looked down at your hands seeing that the blood on top of the lamp dripped down onto your own hands.

“No” you yelled throwing it on the ground. You sat on the bed sobbing.

You were going to prison. You were a killer. You were dirty. You were a bad person.

No.

No you weren’t.

Dina was going to tell Ellie. She was going to tell Ellie that you lied. You weren’t a bad person, you just made a mistake. A mistake that you will clean up before anyone came looking for Dina.

You quickly got up wiping the tears from your eyes, and you locked the door.

You quickly grabbed a towel and you wrapped it around her head to try and stop the bleeding as much as you can to make the cleanup easier. You dragged Dina’s body closer to the bed as you let out a grunt as you placed her on the bed.

You walked to the bathroom looking through the cupboard “fuck yeah” you breathed when you saw a pack of razors. You gently took one out and you walked over to Dina.

She was still breathing, but you knew after this she wouldn’t.

You took the razor and you dragged across her writs. On each arm you dragged it 4 times and you watched the blood pool out of her arms. You gently removed the towel from her head, seeing her eyes were open and her mouth was moving.

“I’m sorry” you breathed.

It was an accident. You weren’t a bad person.

You took some blood from her wrists and she winched, you walked over to the wall and you wrote the words “I’m sorry” hoping that they might think that Dina is apologizing for her “suicide”.

But in reality this was you apologizing to everyone you knew this was going to affect.

You got down on your knees and you cleaned the blood from Dina’s first wound that was still left on the floor. By the time the place was spotless Dina already too her last breath, as the sheets were soaked with her blood.

“I’m sorry” you apologized one more time before you jumped out the window running home.

The only regret you had that night was not getting Ellie’s number.

I know the tears we cried

Have dried on yesterday

The sea of fools has parted for us

There's nothing in our way, my love

“I’m sorry for your loss” you spoke softly.

“Who are you?” Ellie asked.

“I was a friend of Dina’s” you lied.

Ellie sniffled “do you know why she killed herself?” she asked as she looked at Dina’s grave again.

“No” you muttered

“I thought she was happy”

"me too"

“Wait you’re that girl from the party” Ellie said after a few minutes of silence. Your stomach fluttered at the fact that she remembered you.

“Yeah” you smiled

You and Ellie spoke about Dina for a while, you made up stories about what great friends you and Eina were and you were happy that Ellie could finally talk to you.

The two of you exchanged numbers that day and you couldn’t be happier.

Dina didn’t die in vain. She died for you and Ellie to be happy. There was nothing standing in the way of your love anymore.

Don't you see, don't you see?

You're just the torch to put the flame to all our guilt and shame

And I'll rise like an ember in your name

I know I, I know

Why didn’t Ellie see? You were here for her since Dina’s funeral.

Why wasn’t she falling in love with you? Why didn’t she realized everything you’ve done for her? Every time you would show Ellie affection or love she never showed it back. Ellie saw you as an acquaintance not a friend and it was the hardest thing for you to accept.

You knew that deep down she loved you.

Maybe she’s scared of her feelings. Maybe she didn’t love you. Maybe you need to encourage her. Maybe you need to show her how much you loved her.

And that’s exactly what you did. You showed her.

You stared texting her more often, you started following her around. You sent her letters. And soon Ellie blocked you. She’d throw rocks at you when she’d see you.

Ellie sprayed you with pepper spray once. Ellie was doing anything and everything she can to stay away from you. She even moved across the city to get away.

But you’d always find her. You’d always get her.

Ellie awoke something in you. Something primal, an animal instinct. You blame her for the way you’re acting. She made you this way.

You tormented Ellie for 2 months she got a restraining order against you. But that didn’t stop you. You just learned to become sneakier. You’d still follow her around you still text but for different number, you’d pretend to be different people.

Ellie was going to love you one way or another. You’d make her love you, with or without that stupid restraining order.

The restraining order reminded you of Dina. It was something that was in the way of you and Ellie’s love. The same way you got rid of Dina, the same way you could get rid of that restraining order. After all Dina was temporary, her life ended. The same was that restraining order was temporary. It will end eventually too, and you’d finally get your chance with Ellie.

I know everybody here, well, thinks he needs you

Thinks he needs you

And I'll be waiting right here just to show you

Everybody at this park wanted Ellie. You hated the way they stared at her as she walked. You hated all of this. You wish you could stick a knife into all their eyes sockets to make them all stop staring at her.

Ellie still hasn’t noticed you after all this time. Even after Dina’s death you thought you had something. But its ok. One day Ellie will realize that you were the one for her. One day she’ll see you the way you see her.

21 days left. 21 days before the restraining order expires. After 5 long years of watching Ellie from afar was soon coming to an end.

You’ll wait for her. Even if it takes forever.

She’ll come around, you know she will, and until then you’ll admire her till the two of you could finally be together.

Authors note: Another long one lmao, but remember you are loved and to always be kind. My requests and pm’s are always open for anything and anyone:)

Yours truly,

Zia <3

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xxmoonch1ldxx · 6 months

Text

The Behind The Scenes.

THE BEHIND THE SCENES!!!!!

I have many, many thoughts, and most of those are incoherent screams. However, it really feels like I'm watching a couple go through therapy to fix their marriage and find their sex drive back for each other. It feels like Anthony's constant train of thought is "I love him so much. I'm glad I'm back. I wanna fuck his cute little ass."

#smosh #ian hecox #anthony padilla #ianthony #lilac is the best please send her love #shes the reason im posting rn im being bullied #IM GONNA SCREAM FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE

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rabbitenn · 5 months

Text

TEARS OVER.

@highcollargirl requested: can you write sogo x fem reader where mc falls ill and sogo takes care of her and they kiss at the end.

ft. Osaka Sogo x fem! reader.

cw/genre: comfort/fluff.

Thank you for requesting, this is a very soft and sweet idea ! I hope it’s to your liking <3 I’m deeply sorry it took me so long to post it…

Everything seems blurry.

With weakening steps, you try to make it to the kitchen, perhaps you’re just dehydrated.

But no, this is wrong.

Why is it so hot? And what’s this coat of cold sweat drenching your clothes?

Just a little more…

Leaning against the wall, you finally make it to the kitchen, parched lips finally tasting the insipid sweetness of cool water.

And yet, the awful sensation doesn’t dissipate.

Your breathing grows heavier, it might be best to go back to bed.

Was the room always spinning, though?

This is bad, your legs can’t hold you anymore.

The last thing you remember before blackness engulfs you is the hard wooden floor hitting your knees and a subtle lavender fragrance, wrapping itself around you in balmy waves of softness.

—

You come to in a warm lit room.

Your room.

You remember exiting it this morning, but the way back to it… it’s all blurry.

Perhaps you dreamt it in your feverish state; however, you think you remember someone holding your body, a steady heartbeat lulling you into the peaceful sleep you hadn’t known for days.

Your lashes flutter open, the purple skies outside sending in dusk light into the space.

“You are finally awake, dear.” A soothing voice greets you.

Then, you register the pleasing sensation of someone caressing your hair, their movements soothing the heat and sweat.

And when you turn towards the voice you always loved to hear sing, your gaze meets one that matches the violet clouds of the crepuscular skies.

“So…” You call him, voice still hoarse from sleep and fever.

He brushes a few unruly strands away from your eyes, his touch so delicate; a barely there brush of butterfly wings against your flushed skin.

“How are you feeling?” Your lover asks, already knowing the answer can’t really be all that good, just by seeing your lidded eyes.

You stretch a little, sitting up in bed.

“Not great, honestly.” You mumble, bringing a hand to your forehead. Your thoughts are still fuzzy, a sharp pain piercing through them in chaotic disarray.

“I expected that much.” Sogo says, a concerned smile reaching his lips.

And it must be your jumbled mind, but you think a kiss from him would make all your pain disappear.

Before you can tell your boyfriend that, though, he adds:

“You should probably lie down for now, dearest. I’ll bring you some snacks, okay?”

Truth is, the prospect of eating your favorite treats sounds very tempting right now, but you don’t want Sogo to leave.

And you are aware you’re probably being childish and whiny, but you don’t care about that right now.

Before he can get up from the bed, the idol feels a slight tug on his sweater’s sleeve.

“Stay here…” You ask, as you look up at him.

And something in the way you ask, something about your tired tone, and your eyes that you’re struggling to keep focused, tugs at your partner’s heartstrings.

He could never say no to you, after all, could he?

Lashes of moonlit hyacinth brush against his cheekbones as he graces you with one of his tender expressions.

Under warm ironed covers, he joins you, the softness of his embrace a thousand times more comforting than any blanket. To be with him is to stand beneath demure lilac skies, a spring breeze gently touching every blossom, their fragrance wafting around and towards aster hued clouds.

You nuzzle against Sogo’s chest, as his lips tenderly place a kiss to your temples.

From between fluffy blankets, you look up at him.

His lips are too tempting for your dry lips.

You need him.

But at the same time, you don’t want him getting sick too… He has important work, both for IDOLiSH7 and MEZZO.

If he couldn’t perform because of you…

Your line of thought shatters at the call of your name, his voice barely above a whisper.

So’s face is millimeters away from yours, warm breaths mingling together.

And against yours, and his, better judgment, you both lean in.

Starlight and an horizon lined in shades of amethyst collide when his lips touch yours, a starry nebula, opening the gateway into a shared parenthesis in time, dyed in morning glories.

—

The next time you open your eyes, you are in a dim lit room.

You know this room.

Its walls have witnessed the affection shared between you and the man holding you close to his chest right now, after all.

“Good morning, So.” You whisper, planting a delicate kiss to his jawline. “I love you.” Are your words, before you cuddle against him, for a few more minutes of sweet dreamy indulgence.

Your boyfriend’s kisses were certainly the best medicine.

#idolish7 #idolish7 x reader #idolish7 imagines #ainana #ainana x reader #i7 #osaka sogo #osaka sogo x reader #sogo osaka #idolish7 hadcanons #idolish7 scenarios #idolish7 fluff #idolish7 x you #idolish7 x y/n #idolish seven #anime x reader #anime imagines #anime fluff

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respectthepetty · 1 month

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Hi Petty! I just started City of Stars today and I have questions. I'm guessing that Krom is a purple boy...well Lilac or lavender but I'm not sure what that means? Also what is Fueang's color? Brown? Gray? Black? Help me out here please?

Paging "Daddy" to the dance floor. "Daddy" we need you on the dance floor.

@negrowhat, the answer you seek comes from @dribs-and-drabbles

She noticed there was a lot of "purple (lilac-aubergine hues) and green (mint-jade-olive hues)".

But she thought Fueang was purple.

And Krom was green.

But I thought the boys were a black and white (dark x light) dynamic.

Since I thought the other couple was also a black and white dynamic.

But things took a turn quickly because in the very first episode, the boys wore these striped shirts, which although play into the dark x light dynamic, would mean it was like a color exchange, but that was too soon for such a thing. Then, Daddy hit me with her theory.

But I still thought Kor was a Blue Boy, and I felt even stronger after he ran into his ex in episode four, and she was in blue too since they obviously still loved each other.

Then both messed up that theory when they both wore black in episode seven, and a theory HIT me.

What if Krom and Fueang are aligning their colors?

Krom doesn't get to be himself all the time because of work so normally, he wears black for work or whatever clothes they make him wear, but he had stripes when Krom had stripes on his day off, and he kinda matches Krom when he wears regular clothes.

Like how Fueang has on the red shirt with the white stripe and Krom has on the white sweater with the red shirt underneath.

Or how Fueang has on the black shirt.

And Krom has the orange top over the black shirt.

But even the lighting makes Fueang's shirt seem a bit orange/gold too, no? No. Nevermind. I'll try another example.

This might work.

But only if we noticed the little designs on Fueang's shirt are purple and blue.

But they are definitely wearing different shades of grey here!

And different shades of blue here!

But they spend all of episode four out-of-sync because Krom doesn't think Fueang actually likes him and is just a player. Then, they reset with the black and white dynamic in episode five.

So by the end of that episode, they are in sync again.

And we see it multiple ways in episode six.

So even when they kinda of miss, they still work well together.

And they still balance each other out.

Because they communicate.

Even when it involves singing.

And they match the most after their best communication through body language and actual verbal language.

Even when they had a rough day in episode seven with Fueang's mom, trying to figure out how to navigate the severity of their feelings, and balancing their relationship with Fueang's job, they still had the light and dark dynamic from top to bottom.

And they ended on the same page.

So is my Wild Ass Color Theory something to consider?

I don't know

But do you wanna throw your color theory out on the dance floor and boogie with me and Daddy?

#city of stars the series #city of stars #are they color coded boys in love?#do the colors mean things?#I don't know but I'm here each week figuring it out

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koostarcandy · 2 years

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hi! i have a request for enemies to lovers jungkook x fem!reader with 1, 3, 11, 97 from the prompt list, angst with a fluff ending pls. thank u so much, hope u have a good day <3 :)

feeling's mutual - jungkook x reader

pairing: choreographer!jungkook x dancer!reader

genre: mentions of stalking, (don't read if it's triggerin) koo to the rescue!, sliiiight angst, fluff! this turned into a mini fic, im sorry :]

a/n: another enemies to lovers but they're dancers this time! harry potter spoilers are also there (jic there isnt anyone hasnt watched/read the series) keep the requests coming, I'm having fun! you could also send in a song request if you think the prompt list isn't your thing ^^

wc: 1.8k

prompts:

1 - "can you stay? please?"

3 - "dammit because I love you!"

11 - "stay on the phone with me."

97 - "well, i promised, didn't i?"

you flop onto the cold floor, groaning from the latest dance routine your choreographer had just made. you know he did it just so he could spite you, to show you that, yes he knows hip-hop and yes, he's the superior dancer here.

"miss two left feet! how was that for a routine, huh? wasn't it the best I've done so far?" sweat dots jungkook's hairline in the sexiest way possible but instead of complimenting him, you flip him off, twice. "knowing i have two left feet, you still choose to torture me?" you look up at him towering over you, gleaming grin always so annoying. and cute. but also Annoying with a capital A.

"eyyy, all in good fun right? i'm closing up so get out, now." he says it in a fake stern voice which has got you rolling your eyes and getting up from the cool floor, grabbing your bag and leaving, shutting the door loudly like you always do. you put in your earphones and listen to the song jungkook and you were just dancing to, head bopping with the beat.

it's when you stop at a pedestrian crossing and casually look at your surroundings is when you spot the man, eyes boring into you. his all black ensemble doesn't make it better and when you break the eye contact, you find your hands shaking and you slip one into your pocket, lowering the volume so you could get a better hold of your surroundings. you glance at the old woman next to you, counting her money with a rickety trolley filled with boxes with what would've been tangerines. you walk with her when the light turns green, seemingly interested in what she had to say and show, heart rate raising when you see the shadow of the man getting bigger and bigger.

you wish the ground would swallow you up, right now. the innocent old lady went on her way, wishing you a good night and you couldn't go with her, making the way to your apartment even longer and tiresome. it's almost 12 and you spot the big 7/11 sign, immediately walking and going to the section with drinks. you randomly pick up a bottle and look at the price, making it seem like you're thinking about it, when in reality you're just realising that you couldn't call any of your close friends tonight, remembering the texts in the group chat and why it was only jungkook and you tonight.

you keep the bottle down and take your phone, fingers unconsciously and rapidly dialing jungkook's contact. you put it to your ear, iu's lilac playing as his ringtone puts a slight smile on your face.

"yo, two left feet, you left your speaker-"

"jungkook listen i can't tell this slowly so listen quick," you look around, finding the cashier playing away on his phone with the same man looking at the chocolates by the counter, "there's someone following me and he's gotten into the store i'm currently in and oh god," you hands shake even more when you can't find the man there anymore, trying your best to breathe properly. "where are you?" jungkook says calmly but you know he's rushing past people, apologies coming out from his lips. "the fancy 7/11 near my place, you know, the one with the expensive water bottles."

"stay on the phone with me."

he's breathing quickly and you're slightly shocked at his quick response, your feet glued to the floor. "where are you in the shop?" you look at the bottles arranged neatly in front of you, "the drinks section, they've got mogu mogu too now, shall I pick one up?" from your peripheral vision, you can see the aisle not empty, making it worser for your heart or mind.

"pick up the apple ones, the orange one isn't that tasty, blueberry should be good too," he must be jogging, you think, his earrings clashing against his phone. you slightly step away from the open fridge and immediately regret your decision, seeing the man walk upto your section. "j-jungkook, he's coming closer, where are you?" you whisper shakily, the bottles you held in your hand falling to the floor. "i can see the sign, i'm there okay? try to move-" a gloved hand puts the bottles back in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours eliciting goosebumps on your skin, the chill air from infront of you not helping you. "i've been seeing you all night and i thought i could take you home, you seem alone-"

"i don't think you should, really"

"darling, there you are! this place is pretty big, isn't it?" jungkook's pulling you into his side immediately, cutting you off. his smile drops immediately when he looks at the man, who doesn't seem very pleased. "i was talking to her-" "and you shouldn't anymore. now, leave before i make a scene, mister." jungkook puts you behind him, effectively shielding you. the stalker seems to finally go away reluctantly and your human shield turns to you, pulling you close.

"you're okay now," he murmurs into your hair, soothing hand rubbing your back up and down. you don't even register the tiny kiss he places on your forehead, "i don't feel like having mogu mogu now," you say quietly. jungkook nods and offers to buy you ice cream and you end buying bunches of lollies and ice cream cones. he pays before you can and he practically forces you to get on his back, his excuse being, "you're tired, i can see it. now, it's piggy back time, miss two left feet." which makes you get on him quickly, urging him to get home before the sweet treats melt quickly.

jungkook falls face first on your couch and you follow, sitting on the floor and leaning against it, mind still reeling from tonight's events. a tattooed hand reaches out for a grape ice lolly from the packet in your lap and opens it, the sweet yet sour ice poking at your lips. you look at the weirdo behind you, puzzled look shot at him. "have it, i know you didn't have anything to eat tonight after practice." you take a bite, wincing at the cold hitting your teeth and eyebrows raising at the taste. a gentle hand falls on your shoulder, jungkook also having a bite, eyebrows furrowed at the taste. you have been this close to him before but it's always in the presence of your friends, their wiggling eyebrows and suggestive eyes gestured at your close proximity with him.

it's like electricity flowing through you, breathtaking in a good way. jungkook silently feeds you the grape lolly, hands reaching for the vanilla ice cream. you can't stop yourself when you say, "can you stay? please?" you look at him nibbling the soft ice cream, eyes on you. "of course, where's your blankets? lets camp out here tonight!"

turns out "camping out here tonight!" is a Harry Potter marathon, popcorn in the bowl rapidly disappearing, courtesy of your human shield of the night. he watches you mouth dialogues hermione says, giggling and stuffing buttery popcorn in your mouth. it's towards the end of prisoner of azkaban when harry is saving his godfather and himself, jungkook decides it's been a night, your head on his chest and your hands wrapped around him in your sleep.

he quietly switches off the tv and brings you down with him, your big comfy couch enough for the both of you. he hopes you don't kick him out in the morning, already attached to the way you snuggle to him and enjoying the feeling of simply cuddling you.

the sunlight piercing through your eyelids wakes you up, annoyed at the sudden brightness. the snoring behind you and the arm on your waist brings you back to last night. you get up and look at him, mouth slightly open and face serene. you're slightly shocked he stayed but you don't say anything, feeling bubbly and smiley despite of what happened last night. he got into action quickly, making you like him more than you have before. a lone finger pushes his bangs away from his face, admiring him just for a little while longer.

"take a picture, it'll last longer, darling."

you move away from him, flinging the shared blanket off you, getting up and stretching your tired limbs. "can't believe you stayed, jungkook," you say honestly, looking back at him sitting up, eyes on you. "well, i promised, didn't i?" you nod, "its just surprising, that's all, given our 'history' and all," he chuckles at the stress you give for the word, "sure, darling" he gets up, "is it that difficult to believe i would do something nice for you?" he looks at you, face getting closer to you.

"yes it is, actually. do you not recall the times you purposely made me stay the nights to 'help you perfect the choreography' or when you point out my mistakes on infront of so many people?" you walk past him, shoulders pushing past his and walking to the kitchen, jungkook hot on your heels.

"you're a great dancer, you know i'll always need your help plus can't you take a bit of teasing? you don't think i notice you doing the same when our friends are around? you punching my arm at every chance you get or making me somehow lose at 'game of life'?!" you look at him, hie chest heaving up and down, "calm down, you big baby, it's not my fault you lose at such a simple game? don't get so worked up over something so little, okay?" you pass him a glass of water, already having downed an ice cold glass of water, chewing on the ice cubes.

"i don't get why you're getting so frustrated over something like this, it's not like i mean much to you and we're arguing like this everytime we-"

"dammit because i love you!"

well, that shut you up. you look at him, his eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly.

"what i actually meant was-" "that you love me? i got it the first time, thanks."

you turn around and lean on the kitchen counter. you've always thought what would happen if you ever confessed your feelings for jungkook, never having thought what would happen if the opposite happens.

"hey," he starts, hand on your shoulder, turning you around, "can you please say something? i feel like I'm being left on read, you know." you smile and laugh sheepishly at the random comparison, head leaning on his chest. "i guess, the feeling's mutual." you mumble, hands slowly going around him. he wraps an arm around you, his tattooed hand lifting your chin up, "what do you mean you guess?" he teases, lips breaking into that big smile you love. you mimic his wide smile, hugging him tightly. he presses his lips to yours gently, holding you close like you'll disappear soon.

"glad the feeling's mutual, darling."

pt time: @armys-dna ; @joondiary ; @soobhyun ; @shatzkrinslinzki ; @highly-functioning-mitochondria

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts fanfic #this was nice(ish)#requests are still open btw #i may close it on friday night #otherwise thanks anonie for requesting #<333 #chaenelcore

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angry-trashcan · 8 months

Text

Dahlia

Chapter seven of Braided Lilac

Warnings: None

1.5K WC

(First) (Read on AO3) (Hair Holds Memories)

My Dearest Flower Loving Friend,

It seems like things are not going well for you in The Hero of the Wild’s era. Hopefully, things have looked up since we last wrote. I know things can be stressful on the road.

On another note, I plan to travel to Lorule soon. Hilda has been in correspondence with Zelda as well as myself regarding the matter. She wishes for me to partake in some sort of festival. Perhaps I can pick up a few new customers and goods to sell while there.

Do let me know how Link is, he still has not written to me. I am starting to grow even more worried that I may have done something to upset him. Take care of yourself.

The best merchant in all of the universe

Ravio of Lorule

The Best Merchant in All of the Universe,

I cannot believe you made me write that. The others wouldn’t look away from me as I was laughing writing it. They probably think I’m going mad. Anyway, I spoke with Link for you. He says he just has not had a chance to write you, though he is not upset with you. I’ll try to get more information out of him for you.

I hope that you are enjoying your time in Lorule, I assume you will get this when you return. Or maybe the postman can travel there as well? I doubt it but we will see. I’m sure you are sniffing out every little thing you can turn for a profit in this world.

As it turns out, this was not Wild’s era. It is sometime after it, seemingly shortly after. We have also picked up a new hero. He goes by the name ‘Sage’ but will not tell us why. He’s a… strange one to put it nicely. There was an incident with him when we first stumbled upon him, or, well, he stumbled upon me. It was an interesting day, to say the least.

Well, I sure hope that I hear from you soon. I look forward to your letters. They get me through the weeks.

Your favorite archer in all of the lands,

Y/N

My Favorite Archer in all of the Lands,

I now understand how it felt for you to have to address me as such. Somewhat humiliating I must admit. Especially since we all know how you handle that thing you call a bow. Perhaps I can put an enchantment on it to help your aim. Since, well, Link’s ring didn’t seem to do much.

Berating you aside, Lorule was nice. It was a pleasure to be back home and see everyone I have missed. Hilda sends you her best regards and hopes you are well during your travels.

It seems this ‘Sage’ is quite the character. I hope this ‘incident’ didn’t involve your terrible aim. I’m sure it would never come to that though, with the hawk eyes those Heroes keep on you at all times. Which they should! Let me clarify! You seem to have a knack for getting yourself in situations.

I am glad to hear that Link is not upset with me, though it does little to put my mind to ease about the matter. Please let me know if anything else comes of it. I do also look forward to your letters.

Your best friend on this side of Hyrule

Ravio of Lorule

My Dearest Best Friend on this Side of Hyrule,

These introductions just keep getting longer, don’t they? But you are wrong about that, you’re my best friend in all of Hyrule.

These fools just keep pressing my buttons, let me tell you. They picked a fight with Sage. And of course, he was going to defend himself, as anyone would. Which led to Wild being hurt, thank the Golden Three not too badly. Along with everyone just growing wearier of him. I had to put a stop to the fight myself.

ALTHOUGH, I did NOT use my bow to stop the fight. I don’t appreciate all of the bullying, Mr. Merchant. But, would you please enchant it when we return there? It would be greatly appreciated. My brother gave me his when we were in my era, and while I do love it for where it came from, it is quite heavy for what I am used to.

I see that you talked to Hilda about me. Interesting. I hope it was all good things. Nothing new about Link, unfortunately.

Your bestest friend in the whole wide world,

Y/N

My Bestest Friend in the Whole Wide World,

That’s quite the mouthful. Though I must admit that it is true at this point. I did, in fact, speak with Hilda about you. You came up when I was speaking with her about Link and the travels he is currently on with yourself and the Heroes. She was quite impressed if I do say so myself. I did leave out how horrendous you are with a bow, though. You’re welcome for that.

It would be an honor to enchant your bow when you return to me. I will make sure it is the first thing we do. Maybe after, we can make dinner together once again.

I’m saddened to hear that Link has not mentioned me. But I will keep an eye out for a letter from him. Perhaps I just forgot to write him back and I’m worried for nothing.

Please take care of yourself around this Sage. I understand that you are willing to take him in, but it seems he has caused problems within your group already. Just be safe and weary.

Your long-distance babysitter,

Ravio of Lorule

My Long-Distance Babysitter,

That may be the worst one yet. I don’t need a babysitter thank you. Maybe just a watchful eye to check and make sure I have tied my boots correctly. Thank you for not speaking badly of me to Hilda, I do appreciate that.

Link has mentioned you, just not with the intent to write you. He’s told a few stories and even sang us a song in Lorulean. What he remembered of it at least. I do believe that he just misses you but doesn’t have the words to express it to you. I wouldn’t fret unnecessarily about it.

We have now moved to Sky’s era. The portal opened up right under our feet. It was quite annoying if you ask me. But we are all well and here. Though, Sky did immediately start problems with me. It turns out, I hope you’re sitting down for this one, that he had proposed to me with the feather I wear in my hair. Can you believe that! I even asked him if that’s what it was when he gave it to me and he told me no! So imagine my surprise when we show up here and the first thing his Zelda (who he is actually engaged to friendly reminder!) asks me is when we were engaged. So, we are not on speaking terms. He lied to me in the same way Time did. The same way he did. And I will not stand for that.

Sorry for that rant, just overwhelmed with that situation at the moment. I hope you are doing well and that this letter finds you well.

Your absolutely livid best friend

Y/N

My Absolutely Livid Best Friend,

I cannot believe he did that to you. I am glad you are standing your ground on the matter, don’t let him just brush that under the rug.

I hope you are right about Link. I looked back through our letters and I don’t have one I haven’t replied to. I may just break down and write to him again. I miss his letters desperately. I cannot believe he sang that song though. I know exactly which one and he doesn’t say any of the words correctly.

I have found an enchantment that I think will work great for your bow. It’s a simple yet powerful one. It won’t take long at all to get it situated.

I hope to hear from you soon, remember to be strong in the situation with the Hero of the Skies. Don’t let him get away with this.

Your friend who is ready to fight the Hero of the Skies if need be,

Ravio of Lorule

My Friend Who is Ready to Fight the Hero of the Skies if need be,

That is my favorite one so far. I may have to keep your offer in mind. We still have not spoken. Even after being thrown into Twilight’s era now. It seems like the portals are opening at a faster rate than usual, perhaps the author is simply trying to get to the meat of the story already, perhaps the black-blooded monsters are being produced at a different rate. We aren’t sure.

But if you write Link, don’t think he would be opposed to it. He may even appreciate it. He’s in a good mood as of late, seemingly snapped out of whatever was weighing on him.

However, Twilight’s home village is very quaint. I could see myself settling and having a life here. I understand why he loves it so much. I’m sending some Dahlias I picked near his home. They are blooming in excess now and I felt you would like some. Take care of yourself, alright?

Your friend who really needs a long nap

Y/N

(NEXT)

Two chapters in ONE DAY?! Damn look at me, coming out swinging.

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moonchildreads · 11 months

Text

small town

Chapter 14 - Missing You

IN THIS CHAPTER: The meaning of flowers, homemade cake, and Maureen and Margaret become friends [6.0k]

WARNINGS: angst, discussions about dead parents (car accident/unspecified terminal illness), survivor's guilt, unprocessed grief - please heed my warnings. i'm currently grieving someone and this is very raw, proceed only if it won't hurt you

A/N: shout out to @duquesademiel and @justahappycloud for teaching me that it is okay to write as a form of therapy, and i'm sorry i keep sending you the sad bits of this fic only. i love you and i can't believe i get to call you my friends. also, big thank you to @boomhauer for letting me use her chosen name for eddie's dad - i admire you greatly and everyone should go and read disjointed as a thank you. we're so very lucky we have you in this fandom <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

You had so much hope for a brighter day Why were you my flower plucked away?

Sunday, May 11th - 1986

“What on Earth are you doing?”

Mother’s Day had always been a weird day for Dottie. When she was a toddler, it was just another calm and quiet Sunday, albeit one where her Dad wanted more cuddles than usual, which, quite frankly, already were a lot. Still, she enjoyed the extra attention and he loved holding his little girl in his arms while she took a nap on his chest so there were no complaints to be heard from either side. When she was in kindergarten, her class spent an entire Friday making gifts for their Moms. Dottie came back home with a hopeful smile and gave her paper mache and macaroni flower to her Dad, asking if he could send it all the way up to Heaven for her. James had neer been happier about the fact that they now had separate bedrooms so she wouldn’t hear him sob clutching her handcraft to his chest while she slept. When she was around 8, she asked her Dad why couldn’t they simply celebrate Mother’s Day like everyone else in her class.

Margaret’s physical absence in her daughter’s life wasn’t an unusual topic in their home; in fact, a lot of teachers commented on it as Dottie grew up, praising James for keeping her memory alive and normalizing a sad situation so his kid wouldn’t suffer. James wasn’t sure why telling his daughter that she had been so very much loved by her dead parent was worthy of being praised, but as a single dad in the ‘70s, he took whatever kind words he could get. He made sure that Dottie understood she had a Mom, that she didn’t suddenly appear from thin air one day to change James’ life forever, that she’d been wanted and dreamed of by both parents. Margaret’s face was in countless pictures around their home, they stayed in her old bedroom whenever they visited her side of the family in Pennsylvania, they talked about what she’d say or what she’d do at all times. Margaret Burke was a constant presence in their lives despite her untimely death, and the fact that they celebrated that every day except during Mother’s Day didn’t feel right to her daughter.

That’s how Dottie found herself establishing little traditions that were still in place that Sunday afternoon when she opened her front door to find one of her best friends holding a small bouquet tied together with a big silver ribbon. Dressed in an all-black ensemble as he usually did, the lilac and white flowers sprinkled with greenery were the only pop of color in the foggy drizzly afternoon. Eddie was smiling wide despite the ugly weather, his dimples perfectly on display for the world to appreciate.

“Hey! This is for you,” Eddie thrust the flowers forward. “Actually, they are for your Mom but… yeah.”

“You bought my Mom flowers?” Dottie said, disbelief present in her tone as her fingers brushed against his chunky rings when she accepted the bouquet, skin bristling at the contact.

“Yeah, you like ‘em? The purple ones are rosemary and the white ones are, uh, bellflowers? The lady at the shop said there are, like, a million white flowers that look like bells so I picked the prettiest ones,” he dropped his backpack on the armchair in the living room and followed her to the kitchen.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you pick these?”

“Well, I kinda… borrowed your flower book?” he admitted, leaning on the kitchen island to watch her fill a glass vase and start arranging the flowers. “The one you and Jeff were talking about at lunch? It’s in my bag.”

“Wait, what? When did you grab it? I didn’t even notice it was gone.”

“Yesterday, when you left me alone in your room to go get snacks. D’you have any more of those strawberries? They were so good.”

“Yes, but you can’t eat them. We need them for the cake,” Dottie cut a few long stems until she was happy with how her vase looked and tied the silver ribbon that the bouquet had been bound with around the glass. “So if you stole my book, what do these mean?”

“I didn’t steal it, I was gonna give it back!” he said, faking being offended at her accusation before he dropped the act and stared down at his hands. “The, um- the rosemary is remembrance. The bell flowers are gratitude.”

“Gratitude? For my Mom?” she searched for his eyes with her own but he kept looking at his rings.

“Just wanted to thank her, y’know,” he looked up at her after a pause. “For giving me you.”

“Shit, Ed, you can’t say things like that without a warning, you’re gonna make me cry!” she fanned her face with her hand, voice playful but eyes full of very real tears. “Thank you, you’re… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled shyly, reaching across the island to grab a flower out of the vase and bump her nose with it.

She giggled, taking the long stem from his fingers and setting it behind her right ear before turning around towards the counter where baking supplies were neatly laid out. She picked up two envelopes: one was the now familiar soft pink rectangle she had been carrying in her backpack all week but the other one was unassuming plain white. She slid the white one across the ceramic countertop; Eddie opened it to find a Garfield themed Mother’s Day card, the orange cat grinning on the front of the glossy paper. A pen entered his line of vision and he looked up to see Dottie nervously staring at him.

“I got you your own card,” she explained, clicking the pen and offering it to him. “Thought maybe you’d like to join my little ritual later.”

“Ritual?”

“I write down the things I want to say to my Mom and then I burn the card. It’s dumb, you know I don’t really believe in, like, the afterlife or whatever but… Dunno. Feels like the words reach her if I burn it.”

“No, I get it,” he reassured her. “So I can write whatever I want?”

“Yeah! I mostly just update mine on how everything’s going. About my Dad, and school, stuff like that. Like leaving a message on her answering machine.”

“Okay, I can do that,” he smiled. “I’ll join your ritual.”

“Yeah? Okay, cool! I’ll… I’ll get started on the cake while you do that then.”

Happy to have a task to focus on instead of staring at him for an hour, Dottie opened a bottom drawer and took out a dark green apron with a tiny lemon pattern, quickly tying it behind her back with a thin bow. Eddie watched her move around her kitchen with ease, measuring ingredients and lining up a cake pan with parchment paper like she’d done it a thousand times. He supposed she’d had; kids with hard childhoods always knew their way around ovens and knives. It was simply a matter of survival: sometimes you were hungry and there weren’t any adults around even if the grownups in your life weren’t neglectful, like Wayne or James. Eddie looked down at Garfield’s large face printed on the paper and began spilling everything that was rattling inside his brain through his pen. He wrote, and wrote, and wrote until the left side of the opened card was full and had no more space to write on, so he continued writing on the backside.

He told his Mom about Wayne while Dottie mixed flour, cornstarch, baking powder, and salt. He promised her he’d graduate this year while hearing the sounds of two eggs being cracked, the overwhelming sweetness of vanilla extract filling the air. He confided that he didn’t feel as lonely as before anymore, that he thought he finally had great friends, a club that looked up to him, a band that made him proud. He asked her not to worry about him anymore when Dottie poured the batter into a round pan and offered him the spoon to lick. And thus, Eddie wrote to her Mom about the girl he had a growing crush on, how he felt like he didn’t have to hide anything from her because she understood him in ways that other people had never understood, and how desperately he hoped she would look at him in the same way he saw her. If he had lifted his head up when he was putting the card back into the envelope, he would have seen Dottie sneaking glances at him while she cut strawberries and realized that he didn’t have to hope for anything anymore; Dottie already looked at him with stars in her eyes even if he didn’t think he was worthy of it yet.

With the cake baking in the oven for the next 30 minutes, all the strawberries cut in half, and the homemade jam finishing its 48 hour setting period in the fridge, both teens sat down on cushy stools at the kitchen island to finish the half-done homework they had abandoned on Saturday after it got dark. They could hear James pottering about upstairs, cleaning the bathroom while listening to the radio. He was singing along to West End Girls by the Pet Shop Boys - “the latest #1 on the Billboard Hot 100” the announcer had said. James didn’t really like the Pet Shop Boys, but he had heard it so much on the radio during the last couple of months that he couldn’t be blamed for knowing the lyrics by heart at that point.

“You done?” Eddie asked, gathering his stuff and shoving everything into his backpack.

“Yeah- yeah, I’m done,” Dottie said, moving to clear her stuff too. “Cake should be done in five, I think.”

“What’s next?”

“Wanna whip the cream while I do the glaze?”

“Sure. You’re gonna have to guide me though,” his face lit up in a mischievous smile. “And I’m gonna need one of those cute little aprons you’ve been hiding from me too.”

“You get plain dark blue,” she said, going through the drawer. “Or… I can offer you a “Kiss the Cook” apron with a big red heart on it?”

“Princess, you already know which one I want,” he batted his eyelashes at her. “Besides, it matches my scrunchie!”

Dottie tried to contain her giggles with no success when he tied his hair up into a bun with the red scrunchie that had found permanent residence in the depths of her empty fruit bowl, twirling around to show off his new hairdo. He bowed his head so she could slip the apron around his neck, leaving the tying up to him and fetching the ingredients for their next tasks. She separated them into two small piles, his ingredients to the right, hers to the left.

“To make whipped cream you put heavy cream in this,” she slid a bowl in front of him. “And you use the mixer to whisk it until it gets a bit bubbly. Then, you add the sugar and the vanilla extract, and you mix until it’s not runny anymore.”

“How much of everything?” he asked, pushing his sleeves to his elbows.

“One tablespoon of sugar and one teaspoon of vanilla extract.”

“The tablespoon is the big one, right?”

“Yes, chef,” she said, juicing a lemon for her glaze.

They worked together in relative silence, the loud sounds of the mixer drowning any words they could say. Eddie found out that he could draw on the cream when it got a bit more stiff, and quickly proceeded to spend the next few minutes drawing penis shape after penis shape into the mixture. He thought it was hilarious until Dottie unplugged the electric appliance, shaking her head at his antics. He got the cake out of the oven while she finished up her glaze, concentrating on not burning her concoction heating up on the stovetop.

“Do you always bake a cake for Mother’s Day?”

“Pretty much, yeah. It was my Mom’s favorite cake, it’s her recipe, so... Dunno, it feels nice. And I get to eat cake in the end so everything works out.”

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone make lemon glaze since I lived with my Grandma for three months,” he said, fanning the cake with a takeaway menu to cool it down.

“That sounds fun. How old were you?”

“Eight. Stayed with her the whole summer. She made awful lemon bars, I mean that shit tasted like fuckin’ cardboard,” Dottie snorted at his horrified expression. “But she made the best apple pie I’ve ever had. I think I gained like 10 pounds that summer.”

“Just from apple pie?” she asked, adding the last bit of the lemon juice to the pot.

“And ice cream,” he smiled. “Best summer of my life.”

“Eddie?” she said softly. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“How old were you when you moved in with Wayne?”

“After that summer. Actually,” he snorted bitterly. “The only reason I got to stay with my Grandma all those months was because my Dad got himself locked up and didn’t think it was important to mention he had a kid.”

“What?”

“They found out I existed when the school year started. A teacher asked me about my summer and called Social Services. When they came to see me, they said my Grandma was too old to raise me, so Wayne asked for custody. Been living with him since then.”

“What happened to your Dad?” she turned off the heat and turned to look at him.

“He’s still in prison. Won’t get out until I’m in my thirties as far as I know. He’s an asshole so… I don’t really care about him, and Wayne doesn’t either. Never went to visit him. Shit, I don’t think he even knows where they’ve got him, and that’s his little brother.”

“I mean, you just said he was an asshole so…”

“Yeah, I did,” he let out a wry chuckle.

“What’s his name? It isn’t Edward, right?”

“No, my Mom chose Edward. His name’s Wyatt.”

“Ah, that sucks,” she shook her head, moving past him to cut the cake in half to start assembling. He looked at her questioningly. “Wayne and Wyatt? ‘Cause you like alliteration?”

“Doesn’t ruin it for me. Actually, you might like this - you know what other two names start with the same letter?” he leaned onto the counter next to her. She was still wearing a sprig of rosemary in her hair.

“Bilbo and Baggins?” she joked.

“Maureen and Margaret.”

Dottie stopped cutting, knife halfway into the soft vanilla sponge, and stared at him. Eddie was looking at the two envelopes laying side by side next to the flower vase, right hand twirling the rings on his left hand. She remembered a conversation she’d had with Ms. Kelly early on in February after the excitement of being the new kid had died down and everyone had forgotten about her, going back to their cliques and usual groups of friends without sparing a single glance at her. If you want others to open up to you, you have to be open with them too, Ms. Kelly had said, in that gentle voice she always talked to troubled students with.

As much as Eddie wore his heart on his sleeve, he wasn’t keen on talking about his past. He rarely offered up pieces of important information about his childhood, choosing to only share the inconsequential parts instead. Everything else was locked up tight in his chest, just like Dottie did with her deepest memories. She wondered if the reason he was being candid with her now was because she’d let him peek behind her curtains first on Friday night at Lover’s Lake. A key exchanged for a key.

“Your mom’s name was Maureen?” Dottie asked, resuming her cutting.

“Yeah. Wayne says everyone called her Mo.”

“That’s a pretty name,” she smiled. “Mo and Maggie. Maybe they would’ve been friends.”

“Yeah. That would’ve been nice. We could have introduced them.”

“I don’t know if I’d be in Hawkins if my Mom was still here, though,” she said, sliding a big spatula under the first layer of cake to move it to a different plate. “Don’t think we would have moved out of New York.”

“Dunno if I’d be here either,” Eddie admitted, watching her spread the whipped cream he had made on the cake. “My Mom wasn’t from Hawkins. I don’t really know where she was from, I asked but Wayne doesn’t know either so… Said she didn’t like talking about it ‘cause her parents kicked her out when they found out she was pregnant.”

“That’s actually so wretched.”

“I know, right? Like, I know my Dad was always a fucking asshole but it wasn’t her fault, she was barely 17.”

“How did she meet your Dad then? If she wasn’t from Hawkins.”

“As far as I know, she worked at a diner my Dad stopped at on his route. Wayne got him a job as a trucker when he turned 18. So he met my Mom there, dated her for like, three months at the most, and then I showed up to ruin everything,” Dottie scoffed at him but he continued. “She dropped out of high school, he brought her to Hawkins and I was born here. They got married when she turned 18 a few months later. Actually, my Grandma kinda forced them to get married. She really liked my Mom and didn’t want people to treat her like shit ‘cause she had a bastard child.”

“God, people sucked back then.”

“It was the ‘60s, The Beatles were the biggest band in the world, everything sucked back then.”

“Say that again and I’ll kill you in your sleep,” she deadpanned and he let out a huge snort, enjoying how easy it was to rile her up. “You were saying, though.”

“Nah, it’s just… If they were married, it didn’t look like I was an unhappy accident, y’know?” Eddie got a bit more serious. “Anyway, Wyatt didn’t really want to be a dad. He would get in his truck and leave for days, and then when he came back he treated my Mom like shit. I don’t remember much but my Grandma told me once that he used to hit her a lot. I mean, I was his own personal punching bag so that shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does but still.”

“Jesus Christ,” she breathed out.

“It’s been ages since I’ve seen him and my Mom died when I was three, that’s why I don’t really remember anything,” he said, but he did. He remembered everything about Wyatt Munson; every hit, every insult, every scream. He cleared his throat. “After that, my Dad quit his job and started working at Brimborn before it closed down.”

“Brimborn… That’s the abandoned warehouse on Cherry Lane, right?”

“Cherry Oak Drive.”

“There’s like three different roads with “cherry” in their names in Hawkins, it’s so dumb.”

“Nobody said we were very original around here,” he chuckled.

Dottie moved around the kitchen to go find the strawberry jam she’d made a few days prior and found him still staring at the cards when she turned. He wasn’t crying at the memories, he didn’t even look sad. Just… resigned. Like he’d gotten used to things being shit all the time so it was a waste of time to get upset about them anymore. She left the jar on the counter and wrapped her arms around Eddie’s waist, her chest colliding with his back, her face buried between his shoulder blades.

“I’m so happy Wayne was there for you. He’s a great man.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice uncharacteristically soft, hands curling around hers. “Sometimes… sometimes I used to wish he was my real Dad, y’know?”

“He is.”

They stayed like that in the middle of Dottie’s kitchen, a million different things running through their heads: the dead mothers that shared the first letter of their names, the men that had raised them, and the people who had cared for them along the way. There was love to be found here in this kitchen, they both knew it. Only time would tell what it could turn into - what it would turn into - but for now, this friendship that only seemed to grow stronger every day was more than they had dreamed of when they first met in that dark props room thanks to the one and only Dustin Henderson. Maybe a Thank You note was in order.

Eddie thought it was very fitting that there wasn’t a bit of sunshine to be found as they stepped out into the backyard to begin what Dottie kept calling her “little ritual”. He held their envelopes carefully, one on each hand, while he watched her shove bits of craft paper and small branches into an empty bucket of paint, a box of matches resting on the floor next to her sneakers. She grabbed one and lit it on fire, throwing it into the can that had been scrubbed clean of any traces of paint ages ago and was now used as a regular bucket of water to douse the embers whenever James felt like using the grill. Wordlessly, she took her envelope from him and knelt in front of the can with her eyes closed, pressing the paper to her chest for a few seconds before lifting it up to her lips for a quick kiss, letting it fall onto the flames. She watched how the fire consumed her written words for a moment and went back to stand next to her friend.

She didn’t give him any indications as to what to do, simply choosing to let her hands fall in front of her, right hand twirling the ring on her left middle finger, eyes never leaving the flames. Eddie took her solemn silence as permission to approach the metallic can, kneeling on one knee and dropping his card inside. It was a strange feeling, he reckoned, to be sharing such an intimate and private moment with Dottie, and yet knowing that his words would never be read by her or any other person. Whatever he’d said in his letter was between him and the wind that he hoped would reach his Mom’s ears. I guess that’s the point of the ritual, he thought, moving back to his spot next to the pensive girl.

“It’s my fault,” she mumbled, gaze still stuck to the orange dancing in front of them and yet so far away from what she was actually seeing. “It’s my fault she’s dead.”

He turned to look at her, eyebrows meeting in the middle. Eddie had never seen her look so defeated. He wondered how he’d never noticed it before: the weight of the guilt she was carrying on her shoulders, the deep seated shame in the pit of her stomach that felt all too familiar to him, the vacant space within her eyes. It was like looking into a mirror that he’d been trying to ignore for so long. He reached out to her, his right hand wrapping around her left, rings brushing against each other’s, and squeezed tightly.

“She knew she was sick while she was pregnant and delayed her treatment for me. I killed her.”

“Dot, you know that’s not right.”

“Isn’t it? She knew it was me or her, and she chose me,” she held on tighter to his hand. “Sometimes… god, sometimes I wish she’d chosen herself instead. And it’s not that I want to be dead, I swear it’s not about that, but… it wasn’t fair. Not to her, not to my Dad. And it wasn’t fair to me either.”

“It’s my fault my Mom’s dead,” Eddie said, moving his fingers to intertwine with hers. She turned to him, both sets of wet brown eyes finding each others’ in the backyard. “It was the last day of preschool before the Winter holidays and I wanted pizza, so she went out to go get it. A drunk guy ran her over. She never saw it coming. My Dad wasn’t even in town. She died alone on the side of the road and with a fucking 2x1 pizza coupon in her coat pocket.”

“Eddie, you couldn’t have known. That wasn’t your fault-”

“It wasn’t yours either but you’re still gonna blame yourself for the rest of your life, aren’t you?” his lower lip trembled and they both squeezed tighter. The skin stretching over their knuckles was as white as the bellflowers in the kitchen. “They were adults, they made their own choices but you’re always gonna think about what you could have done differently, even if you didn’t know how to wipe your own ass yet.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted. “That drunk asshole should be to blame, not you.”

“It wasn’t your fault either,” he said, matching her intensity. “You didn’t make her sick, that just happens sometimes and it’s no one’s fault.”

“It is! It’s my fault she didn’t get the treatment she should have gotten!”

“And it’s my fault my Mom was out there that night because I wanted pizza,” he lifted the hand that wasn’t holding onto hers and cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing away an angry tear. “If you’re not gonna stop blaming yourself, then I won’t stop either. You can’t have it both ways, Dot. Either we both move on, or we stay here together because fuck if I know who else to talk about this shit with.”

“It’s not fair,” she pouted, head falling forward until it hit his chest, his hand sliding into her hair.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, taking a deep breath.

There was nothing else to be said, nothing left to clarify or explain. There were no words to soothe the pain, because it was so embedded into who they were as people that no amount of comfort would ever patch up the wounds that had healed badly and left deep scars that would never completely disappear. Margaret and Maureen were no longer there, and Eddie and Dottie had to move on. They weren’t sure how, and by God if they hadn’t tried to do so all these years, but it felt a lot easier to forgive yourself when someone else was walking down that road with you.

Dottie sobbed quietly against Eddie’s chest, head bowed with his right hand tangling into her curls, cupping the back of her head. Eddie let his own tears fall, his cheek pressed onto her crown, thumb brushing the exposed skin behind her ear. In the silence filled with paper and wood crackling inside the paint bucket, they thought about how much they longed for something they couldn’t even remember having, and how their rusty padlocks were starting to fall limp at their feet. How even when their brains were miles away from their bodies, they still anchored each other down, hearts beating in sync and hands holding hands, Eddie’s thick mood ring on his right hand clashing against Dottie’s only dainty band; her Mom’s engagement ring glinting on her left middle finger.

Suddenly, she startled him by laughing softly through her tears, bringing their joined hands between their chests. He peered at her face curiously, waiting for her to speak.

“She would have fucking loved you,” she said, looking up at him with a big smile and shining eyes.

“Yeah?” he smiled back.

“I told my Auntie Rachel about you, and she said that she wants to meet you. That you remind her of my Mom.”

“I do?”

“It’s because she was the glue. She was the one that introduced everyone in the group, they are all friends because of her. And that’s what you do for us with Hellfire. You’re our glue.”

“You know,” he stopped his sentence to chuckle. “Wayne said something like that about you too.”

“Yeah?”

“He said that you boss me around like my Mom did with him,” he laughed. “And that you always tidy up his coffee table like she did.”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she laughed with him.

“I think Wayne likes you more than he likes me,” he whispered conspiratorially. “But I know my Mom would have loved you too.”

“Eddie? If I wanted to get a tattoo to honor my Mom-”

“I’m taking you to get it when you turn 21. It’ll be your birthday present, I promise. Just… wait until you’re 21 so I can take you to a nice shop, because mine look really awesome but it’s honestly a miracle I’m not dead,” she snorted loudly. “I’m serious! I don’t think the guy washed his hands since he came back from Vietnam.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll wait. But you gotta promise we’ll still be friends in three years.”

“Oh, princess, I’m a ride or die. No getting rid of me now, sorry.”

“Good. Didn’t want to get rid of you anyways.”

While Dottie was inside setting up the TV to watch The Wizard of Oz, Eddie excused himself to the backyard for a smoke. He ran through everything that had happened between them that week, starting with their argument about his moldy ceiling all the way until the last ten minutes when she was still buried in his arms. Being vulnerable wasn’t something that came easy to Eddie; he was way too used to covering everything up in leather and sarcasm, but now that he’d started shedding the layers, it was surprisingly liberating to keep going, especially when he kept being rewarded by Dottie letting down her barriers too. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize James had slipped out into the backyard too and was walking towards him, glancing at the pile of ashes at the bottom of the metallic can.

“She got you to join her ritual?” James asked, coming to a stop next to the younger man who was smoking under the patio roof.

“It was interesting. I enjoyed it,” he said, the right corner of his lips twitching upwards into a soft smile. He offered his pack of cigs to James, who shook his head, hands in his pockets.

“No, thank you. Haven’t smoked in years.”

“I should probably stop smoking but it’s hard when my Uncle does it too.”

“I know what you mean, my parents are smokers,” James said, nodding. “I only stopped because Maggie got pregnant and she hated the smell on my clothes. Said it made her want to throw up.”

“Dot hates it too,” Eddie chuckled. “She’s always wrinkling her nose when we smoke near her.”

“She does it to my mother too, don’t take it personal.”

Eddie didn’t really know what else to say so he stayed quiet, busying himself with his cigarette. He knew Dottie hated the fact that he and Donny smoked, but despite that, she’d never told them to not do it. Instead, she moved around them to stand next to Gareth or Jeff, away from the wind that blew the smoke into her space until they were done indulging in their vices. She had never complained about the smell either; the only time they’d heard her say anything negative about it was when she said that her Grandma liked smoking inside her kitchen while sitting next to an opened window and that the smoke made her cough, so Eddie tried not to smoke in the van when he was driving her around. He tapped the butt to the sole of his boot and saved it in the little cardboard box, fully intending on throwing it in the trash when he came back inside when James cleared his throat.

“Eddie, do you mind if we have a talk? Man to man,” he said, his tone friendly but firm.

“Y-yeah, of course. Is there a problem, sir?” Eddie’s palms were sweating. He had seen this coming but didn’t think it would happen so soon.

“No, actually I wanted to thank you,” James began. “Dottie told me what you did for her on Friday, that was… very thoughtful of you.”

“Oh,” he was surprised. “I… You don’t have to thank me. I don’t know if she told you but… I haven’t been a very good friend lately and I wanted to apologize to her. That’s all.”

“Well, either way, thank you. Proms and school dances are… a touchy subject for her, you know? Not a lot of good memories. Just- thank you for making her senior prom special.”

“Of course,” Eddie said, scratching the skin under his watch. “We’ll make sure she has a good prom. And if- if you want us to bring her back at, like, a certain hour, we- we can totally do that too. We’ll look out for her.”

“I know,” the older man smiled at him, noticing how nervous he looked. Eddie might be almost 20 but he was still a little boy trying to impress the father of the girl he liked; James supposed he’d looked the same when he’d started dating Maggie. “You’re good kids, all of you. And Dottie’s never really had good friends before so… if she’s happy, I’m happy.”

“I’m glad. That’s she’s happy, I mean,” he hurried to say. “Not that she had bad friends before. That part sucks, she’s… she’s great and I’m glad I- glad we got to meet her and… stuff.”

“You all mean a lot to her, but you… You’re very important to her. You know that, don’t you, Eddie?” James said, and Eddie felt very much like he was being tested.

“She’s important to me too, sir.”

James smiled, satisfied with the boy’s answer. He understood now the glee his father-in-law felt whenever he made him squirm, it was very enjoyable. It was in good faith though, Roger had never outright disrespected him, and James didn’t intend on doing it to Eddie either, but he supposed it was his God given right to mess with the kid a little bit as the father of a teenage daughter. Maybe one day Eddie would understand it too.

“Everything alright?” Dottie said, popping her head out of the kitchen backdoor and looking at the two men standing on the grass with curiosity.

“Yeah, just two guys having a manly talk. You know, about sports and stuff,” James said.

“You only watch sports when the Olympics are on.”

“I also watch the Super Bowl,” he argued.

“You never watch the rest of the season, what’s the point?”

“It’s fun,” he said, turning to Eddie. “Right, Ed?”

“Only reason I watch is because Wayne makes the best spicy wings in Hawkins,” he grinned. “Sorry, sir.”

“You two are missing out,” James shook his head, jesting. “Gonna watch The Wizard of Oz?”

“Yeah, wanna join?”

“Nah, I’m gonna go lay down for a bit. I’ll take a piece of cake though.”

Later that day, when they were hanging out on the couch stuffing their faces full with vanilla sponge and strawberry jam while watching Judy Garland and her merry gang of new friends walk down the yellow brick road, Dottie eyed Eddie suspiciously until he turned to her, whipped cream staining his upper lip.

“Okay, spill.”

“Wha’?” he asked, cheeks full of cake.

“What were you and my Dad talking about outside?”

“Manly stuff,” he swallowed quickly. “Can’t tell you. If you knew, I’d have to kill you, it’s the law.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she giggled, stealing a strawberry from his plate.

He gasped in horror but still let her do it, because she was important to him and he’d do anything to keep that smile on her face, including tearing down the walls he’d carefully built around himself all throughout his life. And hopefully, by shedding that weight, she’d be able to get rid of hers too, and Mo and Maggie could be proud of them for finally moving on.

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#bunny writes #small town fic #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson #eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #baby's first fic

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