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flamingpudding · 1 year

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Part 10 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

>>Masterpost >> AO3

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A/N: A little side information on why this part is so late.... this was originally entirely different. I planned something else but wanted to adjusted that to what I would learn from AGIT but my copy of the book did not arrive yet... soooo this ended up as Part 10 and the original part 10 will be 11 now I guess, we will see :D

A/N(2): Oh btw AO3 link is now out! So far 3 Parts were edited and posted there! I also recently learned that editing a post does not generate a notice. So I will start leaving a comment on the Masterpost whenever a new Part is up. That should hopefully notify anyone subscribed to the Masterpost!

No work at the dinner table

It was supposed to be a normal dinner. His siblings were supposed to just meet his twin brother. Get to meet him and help him enable a somewhat normal childhood with the second chance Damian was getting with Danyal. Yet here he was hugging, no clutching his brother closer to him as he stared at their father at the head of the table furthest away from the twins.

Danyal's entire attention was on the man. There was no adverse reaction like the last time but he knew by his brother's body language that he was entirely focused on their father. The moment the man had spoken their mothers name Damian had felt how Danyals entire demeanor had changed. It was obviously the league training. The way the boy sat up straighter and his shoulders tensed.

The dinner had started relatively well all things considered. Drake had set up a powerpoint with ground rules for how their siblings were supposed to approach and not crowd Danyal. Of course they barely listened once they got to see the boy and Brown was the first one to nearly get bitten by the young boy attempting to pinch his cheeks. Damian had scowled.

But he had also watched on with fondness as he reluctantly had let go of his brother. He knew he was developing an unhealthy clinginess. But could they blame him? He had believed his brother to be dead for eight year and now finally got im back. Damian believed that a little protectiveness was well in his rights.

Brown had no business in teasing him about his brotherly display. Though he did drone when his siblings started discussing who of the two was the 'evil' twin. Did they not know that both Danyal and him were known as Demon Twins in the league? Questioning who of the two was 'evil' was rather foolish and when he voiced these thoughts he had to hide more of his puzzlement as they laughed.

He felt his vindictiveness calm when Danyal bit Brown soon after and despite him not wanting his brother to literally bite them. At least he could trust that Brown would not cause his brother sickness if bitten, he did not believe the same in regards to his elder brothers.

All it all the dinner was shaping up to be quite fine that was until their father stormed in with Richard closely following him. Damian wasn't sure how to categorize the expressions they were making but he let his instincts take over as he scooped up Danyal in his arms and chose the seat furthest away from their father. But if he had to he would at least call the face Richard was making pensive.

He did notice from the corner of his eyes how Todd choose a seat close to them and radiated a rather protective aura while glaring at their father. The next words the man spoke was enough to calm down even the last bit of excitement their siblings had for meeting Danyal as they all soberly waited for what their father had to say.

"I have been able to reach Talia."

Which brought him to the current situation. He felt how the air tensed. His mother had always been a difficult topic for all of them and he could not blame them. She had a rather strange way of showing love especially with the strong influence grandfather used to have on her.

"Danyal is not supposed to be eight years old." Damian's eyes narrowed as his hold once more tightened on his brother. What did father mean by that? Of course Danyal was supposed to be the same age as Damian, but he had died and only gotten revived recently.

"Bruce, maybe we should…" Richard was interrupted by their father laying out a stack of papers. The man's eyes were hard, clearly unhappy with whatever his mother had done and Damian couldn't blame him for that. He himself still felt conflicted whenever he thought about his mother reviving his dead twin after eight years.

The youngest Wayne looked down at the twin in his arms. Noting how his brother's eyes flickered between blue and green as they were trained on their father.

"Danyal al Ghul died at the age of eight. Talia revived him shortly after he had died." His head snapped up. What?

"According to what Talia was willing to share. Danyal did not come back the same, unable to handle Danyal she had then placed him in an adoption Center in Chicago hiding any traces she could of his revival."

"What?" The whisper was out before he could stop it. Todd was glaring even more intensely at their father. Unspoken works of Danyal having gone through the same Pit Madness that Todd had were clearly there. Richard had moved to stand by Damian and Todd, a grounding hand placed on each of their shoulders as the information ran through all of their minds.

His twin hadn't been revived recently but eight years ago?

"With that information I traced it back as far as I was able to. A family with the name of Fenton adopted him and he lived with them for eight years until he was declared dead about a month ago by a governmental institution."

Their father finally took a seat looking right at him and his twin.

"When did you find Danyal?"

"Danny. He likes to be called Danny." Damian said more or less out of reflex, he would recognise if shock set it wouldn't he? He was trained that way. Richard was squeezing his shoulder and his brother was squirming in his arms.

"About four days ago. Kid appeared in my apartment out of nowhere. Thought Dickie was playing a prank on me."

Their father hned and Todd's words. "That still leaves a good three weeks of no information between Dan-ny's revival and his foster parents declaring him dead."

"A governmental institution declared him dead?" Drake questioned further. "Not the police? Was there even a search?"

"They searched for him for a week before he was declared dead." Richard was the one speaking up this time. At the imploring looks of their siblings the elder brother shrugged. "I looked through the reports Bruce had laying all over his office when I…. talked with him."

Clearly there was more to the 'talk' than his eldest brother was willing to say but Damian would question that later more. Right now his focus was his twin. "So something must have happened during that time that not only deaged my brother but also brought him to us. Mother did not have a hand in this this time?"

Their father shook his head no. "If I can believe her words. She left him alone knowing that once Danny regained his mind he would not seek out the league to keep you safe. Talia denies having anything to do with his relocating or dealing. But she did admit to having had someone occasionally check in on the boy but refused to say anything more on that matter."

Damian's hold tightened once more and his brother was obviously squirming in his hold now, wiggling to find a more comfortable position. He heard a chirp and his eyes looked down at the blue eyes of his brother staring up at him.

Something has happened to his brother to leave him in this state. For now he could ignore that his mother had withheld the information that his brother had been alive all these years. He could ignore the hurt he felt over it and he could ignore the fact that Danyal had not attempted to connect with him to protect Damian once more. He would focus on finding out what had been done to his brother and to ensure that he would be safe now.

His siblings were discussing something around him but he was not really listening as his focus was on his brother in his arms. This time he would get to be the one to protect him.

"Ahbak, Danny." He whispered to the boy looking at him with big blue eyes and he could feel Richard squeezing his shoulder once more as he buried his face in his twin's hair.

"Ahbak, Dami!" The child in his hands told him and Damian once more swore, he would find out what happened to his brother and he would protect him. Everything else he would deal with once he ensured his brother's safety.

"By the way, I have one burning question!" Brown suddenly piped up interrupting whatever discussions were going on and stared at the child and the teen that were supposed to be twins of the same age. Their serious discussion was forgotten as she broke the tension that had built up with her next words.

"Who is the older twin?"

The short silence spoke volumes as Danmian raised an eyebrow at his siblings and Danyal made another chirping noise.

"It's obviously Damian."

"But from what Damian told us I would think it's Danny."

"Did you see how feral he is? He is the youngest."

"But Damian said Danny was protective! That is the mark of an older sibling!"

"You shitting me? He's the younger."

"Older."

"Guys this sounds awfully a lot like the evil twin discussion from earlier…"

"Yea the little shit is the evil younger twin."

"No, the stabby one is the evil younger twin."

"You're biased, because he tried to kill you before."

"And you're biased because you're the favorite chewtoy."

All his siblings were imbeciles, even his twin brother with his recent habit of biting anyone that came too close was better behaved than them. He clicked his tongue, though he smiled fondly as down at his brother who suddenly had started to hiss at Brown for trying to pinch the boy's cheek to prove something. "<tt> Danyal was… is the older one between the two of us."

Also Damian could feel Pennyworth staring at them all from the passage door to the kitchen with high disapproval as he was ready to serve dinner but apparently refused to do so until father put away the stacks of reports in regards to his twin, that obviously broke the butlers no work at the table rule.

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greywritesthings · 6 months

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overwhelmed

Spencer Reid x Autistic!Reader

Warnings: description of overwhelm? sensory overload if there's any more let me know!

A/N: not sure what the inspo what behind this but here it is, i am working on another longer fic so this is a filler for the mean time, likes, reblogs and comments appreciated! Im autistic so i have a bunch of stuff I'd like to put in for a second (possible series?). For specific senarios ect ect please feel free to send them to my ask box!!

Requests are open for Spencer Reid! Disabled & multilingual characters encouraged

Read on AO3 instead!

Part 2

Masterlist!

The buzz of the air con unit, the incessant hum if the fluorescent lights, the constant chatter of the co workers you were unfamiliar with all came together to create an almost physically painful environment. You adored working in the BAU but these days where it was lengthy paperwork done on painfully bright computers with the general hubbub of the office made you want to scream. It often ended with Hotch sending you home with paper files to do with spencer but he was off today and you were still intimidated by Rossi so couldn't ask him. Spencer would normally ask for the both of you but he was out with Hotch, they were doing a local death row interview together. You were exhausted and it wasn't even eleven am. You decided to stop by Penelope's office who had made it as sensory friendly as possible once she found out about your autism, something you had appreciated immensely, especially for days like today. “Hey pen? Can i stay in here for a bit?” You ask, walking into the dim room. “Sure thing sugar, you can stay in here for the rest of the day, Rossi told me to come get you for a thing anyway so come over here my fine furry friend.” she beacons you over to the seat next to her.

You couldn't have gotten out of the office faster. Penelope had helped as much as possible but the sensory overload was too much from nine am and you haven't been able to do anything about it aside from chew on some ice every so often.

The idea of taking the subway home made your skin crawl, but you hadn't brought your car to the office this morning, driving was also being far too overwhelming. You would have called Spencer but you had no idea when he would be home given death row inmates either got really chatty or liked to drag on the interview. You decide to just sit on the curb for a while allowing the cooler night air to calm you down enough so you can try and get on the metro without crying.

You weren't sure how long you were sitting there, legs curled tightly against you, head resting against your knees and back pressed against the wall but you flinched when someone walked up and tapped you on the shoulder and scrambled to stand up. “How long have you been out here?” the stranger asks in the darkness. As your eyes adjust you realise its Hotch, meaning Spencer is probably here too. You just shake your head with a pleading look hoping he wouldn't ask you any more questions tonight. “Spencer is in the SUV, I've told him to take that home to save you both taking the metro tonight. Go home, tomorrow's paperwork will be dropped off at your house.He didn't let you get a word in edgewise so you just nod, thank him and wish him and Jack a goodnight, setting off towards the remaining SUV with the lights on.

“Hi honey, you okay?” Spencer asks as you hop into the car, throwing off your blazer before settling in and pulling on your belt. “Bad day?” he asks again trying to gauge how your day went without getting you to talk. You just nod as you reach across to put a hand on his thigh to try and signal that you were okay, just exhausted in every sense of the word. You tap his thigh three times then five, three to say I love you then five to encourage him to talk about his day and not worry about rambling even if you didn’t respond.

Once you get home you drop your things and make a beeline for the couch, flopping face down and screaming into the pillows. “Bath, shower or later sweetheart?” He knew you wouldn’t go to bed without showering but also knew you were too overwhelmed to do anything that required mental effort right now given the whine you let out into the cushions at his question. “I'm going to order some Thai, then do you want to get changed and we can watch a movie? He suggests. “Nada en inglés, por favor” is all you mumble back. He was used to your disdain of English, despite it being your first language. You knew bits and pieces of French, Spanish and German prior to meeting Spencer but since meeting him you had come to learn some Korean and Russian. “Okay dear, i'll go order, you get changed.” he says as he leaves the room going to the phone. You drag yourself off the sofa across the apartment to the bedroom. Grabbing Spencer's caltech sweatshirt and joggers from the bed that you had left there this morning and throwing your suit in the hamper to be washed tomorrow.

You spent the rest of the night curled up under the weighted throw Penelope had knitted you for Christmas on your first anniversary at the BAU and watching old Russian movies. Spencer played with your hair until you fell asleep contemplating how he was going to get you to bed without waking you up.

#greyswritings #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds

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trulyumai · 6 months

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Oh, Mr mosses (Series!) V

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being. Now, his Mimic has taken a liking to you too.

Will you be as smitten of them as they are of you? Only time will tell.

Author Note: Hello everyone, a bit longer of a chapter but thats okay! After Thursday I will be final free! Which means I'll have more time for writing and answering requests, thank you for your patience! <3

Warnings: Blood, Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Stalking, Talk about Death, Mutilation.

Also available on AO3!

Taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife @mariaflor873 @fandomfeind @greycloudsy @skully-skeleton-bone0106 @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-tiger-lover78 @itoshilvr @wilddreamer98 (Let me know if you want to be added!)

God, even the way she laid there, limp against the office wall was everything to him.

Biting down on 28 only crunches and squelches echoed through the room, the said man laid in pieces by his feet.

He casually sat there in her squeaky chair, munching on a limb like it was normal; an everyday hobby.

Humming a familiar tune he threw the rest of the arm past him, somewhere towards the cabinets, he had to guess.

With his feet on the desk he sighed.

Soon the D.D.D would learn of his presence, his safety would be at risk and his little toy would be in even more danger than she already was.

Maybe he would take her, hide her away to be his little wife. That is what they’re called, aren’t they?

First things first; he had to dispose of the replica.

Clicking his teeth he scratched his nails on the wood beside him.

That fucking fool. A useless mirror image he copied.

He had to learn everything about the man before taking his face; starting with his job, his hobbies, his routes, down to the fucking shampoo he preferred. Until it got to his favorite area, the most recent addition in his life; the pretty receptionist.

He knew it would be so easy to manipulate the woman. Her mind was so weak compared to him, with just a tad bit of bending (Mentally and a bit physically), he molded her perfectly for him.

Enough to not only get access to the building, but to her as well.

She groaned as she laid there, she must be having a nightmare. He hoped it involved him, with some image of the mimic biting chunks out or flesh, kissing them as he went on. Holding back a grin he decided to move her, before someone else were to poke their nose in the already bloodied business of theirs. He pulled her up until she reached his chest and eyed the old corroded clipboard by the door.

Going down the list of names he got to her; room 24 Level 2.

Stepping through the red he rubbed his feet on 28’s corpse, letting the leftover blood dry on his once white, button up. We wouldn’t want a little trail now would we?

Clicking the green button he passed 28 once more, whistling lowly as the elevator pushed its doors open with a groan.

Stepping in his clawed finger pressed the second button on the wall, watched as the doors came together with a satisfying thunk.

Belly satiated and full, he looked down at the woman in his arms, her head was lolled to the side, leaning firmly on his chest. Grinning wide he bent towards her, pressing a sloppy, bloody kiss to her forehead, cheek and nose.

The box dinged once again, the doors slid open loudly to indicate their arrival to her floor.

Walking through the corridor, he read the numbers idly

10, 12, 14,

A turn left

16, 18, 20-

A creek escaped, some neighbor had opened their door, just up ahead.

It was that rich suited prick.

“Ah! Francis, lovely to- is that the receptionist?” His grin was hesitant, eying the girl with bloody marks on her face.

He could kill him now, but it would be more of a mess to deal with, he doubted he could hide another body from the D.D.D.

Mustering up a smile, his sharp teeth gritted together.

“She’s ah, not feeling well,” attempting to move past the pompous man and walk towards her door just steps away, the man stopped them once more and put a hand out for extra measure.

Growling he slowly turned, met the eyes of the man once more.

“Do we have a problem,” he gritted, claws digging into the poor girl below him.

“Well- ah, tell her to visit me when she feels up to it,”

He put his hand back at his side, rubbing his fingers idly.

“I have a job opportunity for her, you see!”

Not bothering to waste anymore time, he pressed on to her room. Ignoring the suited man's stares as he clicked her key into place, shoving them both inside before slamming the door.

“Fucking prick.” He muttered.

But now he was all alone, could touch and prod at the girl with no interruptions.

Looking around he noticed the apartment was tidy; everything had a place, plants sat by the darkened windowsill and beside them, a full bookcase was laid about. Her kitchen was spotless, only a few decorative items littered the counters while the sink was, of course, empty.

Holding her up with one hand he scratched at his gums, pieces of bone were starting to prod against his teeth, becoming more annoying than painful.

Looking for her bedroom he propped open a door with his shoulder, and with a thump, dumped her unceremoniously on the mattress.

It was then, he realized.

“Oh fuck.”

Bolting angrily back towards the door, the hallway and elevator as fast as he could, he bit down on his annoyingly human cheek; hard.

He left the elevator unlocked.

Any other mimic could come through freely and he really couldn’t have that.

Another competition for his food? Yeah no, fuck that. He hated how territorial his kind was, made everything a pain in the ass to retrieve and made survival even more strenuous.

It’s why he found himself here; In this little rundown apartment, with surprisingly good security.

Being denied and caught over and over made everything so much more satisfying, because he knew that if he waited- stuck around for the right moment, he’d get in.

Watched plenty of his kind die too, before deciding to take a shape of his own, and finally, making his way to the pretty and gullible receptionist.

Mashing the first floor button he clawed at his face, light red marks dented down with each press of his fingers.

Ironically enough, he’s the one that has to distinguish between what’s real and fake now.

Waiting for the elevator he growled.

“What a pain in the ass.”

——

The milkman was tired. Getting in, absolutely no one was there to check his ID, and he wondered if the receptionist was okay (Yet again). It seemed that lately, that’s all he could think about. Her health, the way she smiled, her pretty hands.

Not once had she missed any of her shifts, and although he had only been there for a short time, he would always hear from the neighbors how dutiful she was.

Come sickness, fatigue, anything, she would be there.

Walking past the office, his fingers shook cautiously by his sides.

Enough was enough, he would talk to her, he couldn’t avoid her forever and his little, “crush,” wasn’t going away anytime soon.

So with a long intake of air. He pressed her floor number.

It was now or never.

The doors closed, and the travel up began.

Floor1

Ding!

Floor 2

Ding!

With his head pointed downwards he heard the doors sliding open before walking forward, passing a quick figure to his left. Not bothering to greet them he kept his head down.

The anxiety was getting to him and wait- he didn’t even know what room she was in!

Head up, he turned back toward the figure that passed him.

They obviously resided on this floor, maybe he could attempt to ask them about her room without completely looking like a creep.

But what he saw he just couldn’t explain- rationally describe.

His face stared back at him, it was set in a scowl while he noticed vast amounts of blood adorned his usually crisp white shirt. The doors were on their way to closing, and this version of him reached out to stop it.

He was too late, the metal doors crashed together and Francis could feel his heart jumping out of his chest.

What the actual fuck was going on.

Was he that tired?

Grabbing his face he turned back, mumbling incessant comforts to stop the beats of his heart from getting any faster.

He needed to find her room, and fast.

The first thing she noticed was her head. It boomed with an unfathomable amount of pressure, and she was hesitant to open her eyes.

She felt around, immediately recognizing the comfort of her own duvet, the silkiness of her pillows, the faint wafts of the candle she lit the night prior. It calmed the tenseness found between her shoulders, instantly relaxing against the cushioned material.

With a muffled groan she allowed her eyelids to slink up, her messy room greeted her vision.

Not remembering the trip up, she laid there, stretched out and confused.

Craning her head just off the side of the bed, the receptionist glanced towards the hallway; to her front door that was wide open.

Jerking up, her feet collided with one another, and looking more like a newborn calf than human she attempted her way to the front of the room.

Never before had a fatigue caused this much confusion; chaos to her mind.

Something had to be wrong.

She remembered clocking in, idly sitting by as the clock ticked and ticked. After that it was all blank- it startled her to no end.

With a hand on the door frame her figure leaned on the wall, just outside her abode.

Biting her lip she held back a whimper, the bright lights of the hall burned her eyes, she tried to go off of memory, closing her eyes as she felt for every familiar bump and groove of the space.

Turning to where she remembered the elevator was, someone bumped into her- hard.

“My goodness!” That voice… could it really be?

“Francis?” Squinting her eyes she blinked repeatedly, trying to get the figure to focus in her vision.

“H-Hey,” the deep voice answered back, smiling, as she knew it was the tired mailman. Only he could have such a serious yet flustered sounding voice.

“I've been looking for you,”

The man gripped the girl's shoulders, light yet firm and bent down just to meet her gaze.

“Some… things have been happening, I wanted to see if you were okay.” Flustered, the girl forced out a laugh, taking a hand off her shoulder she gripped it softly.

“I'm okay, you look more disheveled than me, big guy, what's up?” Kneading the flesh around his knuckles the man couldn't help but relax.

She smelled so good- of lilac and vanilla, it invaded his senses and corrupted his mind. He couldn't even remember the duplicate until it was shoved back by his consciousness.

Letting out a low moan he shook his head. ‘Focus Francis, god-’

“I have to talk to you,” he blurted out, face getting warmer as she paused her movement, and looked right at him.

Letting out a giggle she rested her arm, just so it leaned comfortably in the crook of his elbow.

“Okay? My rooms around the corner, if you wanna talk there?”

Not relying on his words he nodded his head, letting the girl lightly pull his arm to her apartment.

Now, he just had to figure out how to explain his bloody twin.

Should be easy!

And if she calls him crazy, and ultimately pushes him out of the apartment- possibly building, at least he got to get this close to her.

Smelling her, touching her, it was better than living alone with his thoughts- tormenting him every hour of the week that he lazily spent thinking about her anyway.

Inhaling her flowery scent once more he shuddered, he hoped the pretty girl would believe him, so he could once more bask in her presence and ignore every little thing around.

#francis mosses x reader #horror #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #francis mosses x you #game x reader #horror game #x reader #fanfiction #romance #Mimic #Thank you Caseoh for showing me this game ILY

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cinnbar-bun · 10 months

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Zoro Birthday HCs!

Rating: SFW + NSFW hcs (NSFW under read more)

A/n: these were posted during his birthday im only just posting it here now haha.

GN reader and pronouns.

Read at my ao3 here!

SFW

It’s Zoro’s birthday! Yay! And that means lots of celebrating.

Or, in Zoro’s case, it means more napping and drinking.

Yes, it is a bit different but Zoro likes more lowkey birthday celebrations where he can rest as an excuse.

“Fine, since you’re twisting my arm about it, I’ll just go and lay down.”

He says, as if he wasn’t smiling and wanting to sleep after eating you and Sanji’s birthday breakfast.

He mostly wants birthday cuddles and kisses while he’s trying to sleep. He wants to have you slung on him like a koala and snoring in his ear for his nap.

He admits he doesn’t really need any gifts, but he’s not going to complain if you got him something. He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth when you reveal the gift box(es) to him.

If you get him something personalized or something like jewelry, expect him to glance in confusion at you.

“Why’d you get me something like this? Not really the fashionable type, ya know.”

But he will be wearing it every day from then on and will never take it off.

Author note: god he’d look ridiculously hot with a thin gold chain on his neck and I want it so bad.

Drinks a lot tonight. He’s going to deny that his birthday is anything special but he’s chugging it like he’s liberated another country. Maybe it’s because you and the crew care so much that it makes a day he normally skips on so full of love and joy.

Sanji made the cake (and designed it at your discretion) so Zoro acts like it ain’t shit.

“It’s just a cake. No need to go crazy over it.”

He ate like three slices before Luffy barged in and swallowed the rest of it.

He continues to have a great day with the crew after they make sure to throw him a small party as well as give him their gifts.

Speaking of gifts…

NSFW

When you tell Zoro you have another gift for him in his quarters, well, he’s a bit shocked. You already did so much for him, and you’re giving him another gift?

He follows your instructions and finds you on his bed, naked, pressing one his swords against your body while you’re holding a bottle of expensive sake.

Let’s just say his fourth sword started getting up.

He can’t wait to dive in and have fun with this “gift.”

He manhandles you a bit more, holding you tightly and gripping your hips while he’s busy kissing you roughly and exploring your mouth.

He enjoys drinking the sake from your mouth in these scenarios, mostly because he likes to fluster you enough to let it drip from your mouth.

He also likes to lay you down and pour the sake on your body so he can lick and slurp it up. The sounds are almost so obscene it makes you turn red.

“Eyes on me. Don’t get shy on me now. You’re the one who wanted to give me this gift, right?”

He’s happily performing oral on you over and over, to the point where you’re wondering if he remembers it’s his birthday, not yours.

If you insist on giving him oral, he ain’t complaining. Just know he’ll be a bit rougher and grip your hair tighter. And the stuff he’s whispering and telling you is so sinful, it’s almost impossible not to feel your heart race.

“Fuck. Just like that. You can take more. I know you can.”

You two are going at it all night, and while Zoro normally is keen on keeping you quiet, tonight, he throws caution into the wind and doesn’t care how loud you are. Heck, he even starts encouraging you to scream his name.

“Just like that, baby. Who’s fucking you this good?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol making him rather tipsy enough to not give a shit about what could be going on.

When you two finish after a long night, he pulls you in close and kisses the top of your head.

“Hey… I don’t think I thanked you for today… thanks. Really.”

You’re falling asleep on his chest but the look in his eyes is so full of love and adoration for you, and he sighs happily knowing he’s got you.

You’re the best thing in his life, and he knows that despite all the gifts he got today… you’re still the best gift he could ever ask for or even deserve.

So he presses another kiss to your forehead and enjoys the afterglow of a wonderful birthday night, his mind drifting away to things he could do for you.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece hcs #roronoa zoro #zoro #Zoro x reader #smut #one piece smut

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astarionancuntnin · 3 months

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Die For You (Chapter 8)

summary: as the vampire ascendant's bride, you get powers only spawns could ever dream of. only one thing stands in the way of your happily ever after, and the time has come for you to get rid of him, no matter the consequences.

rating: E

word count: 5k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, reader is tav)

cw: 18+. you know the drill: smut, angst, blood/vampire bites, hints of praise, fingering (f! receiving), p in v, possessive behaviour, but also! telepathic discussions, katoptronophilia (mirror stuff), blood play, graphic depiction of violence. full list on ao3

a/n: SURPRISE i had a sudden urge of inspo and there's now one more chapter before the epilogue. im sorry in advance for whats about to happen, but also an immense thank you to my loyal readers, yall are the realest

This fic update every Friday! (2 more updates remaining)

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You know I like you

And anyone who gets in my way, darling

Might get a handful of some shit

Or stay heavy-hearted

Because it's cut-throat

To anyone who comes close

Be mine

And everything will be fine

His… bride?

Your knowledge on vampirism was limited, given it was based on what Astarion had previously shared from his own experience, and rumours you had heard through the grapevines. Nothing ever mentioned brides, and unless you had lost a great deal of your memory, you don’t recall marrying Astarion, either, but if your reasoning was sound, being his bride would mean you were somewhat his equal.

“Does that make me… a real vampire?”

“You are even greater, as you are my creation.” He purrs, as his hand around your neck pulls you back further, exposing your neck to him, while his other hand wanders over your chest. “I’ve extended most of my blessings upon you, which is why you need not fear the sun, or any typical weakness that plagues our kind.” His eyes flicker back to your reflections in the mirror as he massages your breasts, all the while his tongue travels from your shoulder to your neck. “You are the only of your kind. With your strength and my influence combined, we are the most powerful couple in Baldur’s Gate. The most powerful beings in all the realms.”

His hand at your front travels down between your thighs to find the pool of warmth he had previously abandoned so carelessly, to dip one, then two fingers between your slick folds. The hand around your neck lessens – not that it played any part anymore, as your head was naturally falling backwards in reaction to his touch – to cradle your chin, with his thumb slipping inside your open mouth, as your breath picks back up the hectic rhythm it had when he was between your legs.

The taste of his crimson instantly invades your mouth, and you close your lips around his thumb, sucking fervently to get more of his liquid gold into you. You didn't experience hunger normally anymore – even earlier, the tiefling you drained was purely out of a power rush rather than actual hunger – but you think you would go insane if you never had the chance to drink from him. As you drink more, you feel yourself getting dizzy, almost drunk on his blood, the temptation to bite down getting harder to ignore.

“Uh uh, pet. You’ll bite on this one,” as he feels your fangs nibbling over his thumb, he removes himself from your mouth to bring his other hand back up, this one drenched in your nectar. “Drink, my consort. Taste how good we are, together.”

You hum at your sweetness, and following his command you bite down, mixing your juices with the richness of his blood. The more you drink, the more you feel connected to him, as if your bodies and minds fused as one. You are like a putty in his hands: not a drop of fighting left in you, willing to follow his every command.

While your mind wanders at the cocktail of flavours in your mouth, his other hand grabs a hold of your hips, as he guides the head of his cock against your entrance before plunging into you with one, deep thrust. Your mouth drops open as his dick fills every inch of your canal, making you whole with its presence. Before you can fall forward, Astarion's hand finds its way back around your neck, keeping you up and facing the mirror. His hand on your hips trails along your belly, and reaches the other side of your waist, keeping you still, with himself buried deep within you. He pulls your head forward, making you witness the mess he made of you.

“Focus, darling. I want your eyes on this mirror at all times.” His voice is deep with lust, almost primal as he growls. “You’re going to watch yourself come on my cock.”

His hips slap against your ass with each thrust he makes, and the pain from each one is nothing short of delicious. Between gasps, you cross his gaze in the reflection, his eyes darkened with want, with need, as he admires the sight of you, his vampiric bride, covered in his blood, impaled on his cock. There is a bloody mess that trails from your mouth, to your neck, down your chest, and finally around your waist; he made sure to spread himself all over you, marking you.

Your moans fill the room, along with the wet sounds from your fucking and his growls, which only get louder. You bite your lip in an attempt to muffle your screams, only for your mouth to fly open again, crying out, as you draw out your own blood from nicking yourself with your new set of fangs. It was going to take some time to get used to them, but it only made Astarion enjoy the sight even more.

“Just like that, pet. Don’t hold back now, I want everyone to know how good I fucked you.” Just as those words leave his mouth, you spy a wicked grin on his lips before his fangs dive right into the flesh of your shoulder. As he drinks you in – for the first time as his bride – he takes on a punishing pace, his cock ramming into you, hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. His name slips from your mouth without thinking about it, each time louder than the last. He leaves the fresh bite wounds – another symbol of his ownership over you – his mouth fully covered in your blood, to look back at your reflection, as his hand leaves your waist to massage your clit, pushing you to your limit. “Go on, scream my name to the heavens, tell them who you belong to, mind, body, and soul.”

A few more rough thrusts hitting against your cervix along with the stimulation over your sensitive bud is all it takes for you to come, your walls tightening around his cock, and your voice screams his name out like he was the god you worshipped. Before you can come down from your high, he grabs a hold of the back of your head, pulling you back to angle your neck with his mouth before speaking up with a low growl.

“Come on, love, I know you can give me another one.”

He keeps fucking your through your climax, keeping up the stimulation over your clit as he bites down on your exposed neck. The overstimulation pushing your body to its limit makes you go deaf for a moment, as your body explodes yet another time, and he continues pushing you further until he feels you grow heavier as your body goes limp from exhaustion. Only then does he remove himself and let you land on the bed carefully. In your daze, you hardly notice him moving around, until he picks you up, very gently, to slip you under the covers where he rests with you. You think you can hear him say something along the lines of “Rest, little love”, but in the bliss of your aftermath, his words sound distant, almost like an afterthought. Too tired to even move anymore, you lay against his chest, with his arm surrounding you protectively, while the other caresses your hair. Just when you think you’re drifting to sleep, the fog obscuring your mind, he speaks up.

“I don't want you to think for a single moment that you're not deserving of the entire world and more, and I’ll make sure you get everything you deserve.” His tone is drastically different from how it was only minutes ago, suddenly warm and soft, like a gentle balm over your wounds. He sounds so distant in your mind, yet you’ve never felt so close. “I will be here when you wake up tomorrow.” He rests his lips over the top of your head, leaving the ghost of a kiss as he pauses, before he continues. “I will always be here, my love.”

After today’s rollercoaster of emotions, these last spoken words have you tearing up. This is what you wanted: comfort, acceptance, support; unconditional love. If you had the energy to answer, you think you would have said those three little words you hadn't dared to speak aloud yet, but in the state you were in, you only manage to sigh as a few tears roll down your cheek, before your world finally fades to black.

–

When you open your eyes the next morning, you’re greeted by Astarion’s arms wrapped tightly around you; his weight, his warmth, surrounding you – protecting you. You’re certain he’s gotten closer than how you recall falling asleep last night. You were now entirely cocooned between his arms, with his head resting atop of yours. It felt… nice. It’s only when you nuzzle against his chest, seeking more proximity and wanting to hear the appeasing sound of his heartbeat, that you feel him move, holding even tighter to you, as his hands lazily trails over your back. His grip on you is so strong, you don’t think you could free yourself – not that you wanted to. You would happily spend hours in his arms like this, enjoying the safety of his embrace.

Knowing his reveries were already on the short end compared to the ten hours you allowed yourself to sleep – on a good night, that is – and considering how last night had completely drained you of any energy you might’ve had prior, you were convinced he must’ve been awake for a few hours already, just waiting on you to wake up and enjoying your sleepy presence in the meantime. You smile at the thought of him allowing himself to be vulnerable behind closed doors, and you were the only soul lucky enough to witness it. You think it’s adorable how clingy he is of you now, as he cradles you in your sleep, and you hum happily in his embrace.

A faint thought passes by, and sleepily, you raise your head up, your chin resting against his chest.

“Are you scared that I might just up and vanish?” You try to crack a joke, your voice is still heavy with sleep.

He pushes back slightly to look back at you with a faint smile when he sees you’re finally awake.

“It’s hard not to when you made sure to remind me countless times how our time together would be short-lived.” His hand leaves your back to caress your cheek lovingly. “I’m only trying to make the best of it.”

Your brows furrow slightly until you remember your words from the previous days. You hadn’t told him about your encounter at the inn. “About that… I might stay longer than I previously envisioned.”

“Oh? Changed your mind about the cleric after all?”

“I actually ran into Shadowheart yesterday,” you confess.

“Have you? I’m sure that she must’ve been thrilled by your new look.”

You sigh at his sarcastic tone, “So much so that she turned her heels and bid me farewell without looking back.” You tilt your head forward, now resting your forehead against his chest. “It got me thinking… this whole thing might’ve been a mistake. I don’t think I was completely in my right mind when I made that decision.”

He tilts your chin up to look back at him, “It serves no purpose to linger on what could’ve been, darling. What’s done is done, now it’s up to you to do your best with the hand you were dealt.” His face lost its smile, but his eyes were shining with thoughtfulness. “I know you will have no issue doing so.”

He’s right, and it’s not like you could go back now. If you had to live the rest of your eternal life like this, you would try to make it as good as possible. You will spend the rest of your life begging forgiveness for that tiefling’s life you took; he couldn’t be older than twenty-five, he was probably really only looking to have a good time and you took his life for it. You try not to linger too long on the thought, ashamed of your actions, but you promise yourself that you will never take an innocent soul ever again. Good thing for you that Sir Virric Othros and his friends were far from it. Speaking of –

“The invitations. We need to send them out–”

As you try to lift yourself up, Astarion grabs your arm, stopping you. “That was taken care of.”

“What? When?”

“Yesterday evening. Remember? When you decided to go out for a little drink?”

You crash back on the bed, groaning. “Gods, I really let it get to my head. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles, “It’s all forgiven, my sweet. All things considered, I find it funny, really.”

You raise your brow, “Funny? Seriously? With the reaction you had yesterday I would’ve said anything but.”

He sighs, “My reaction was… extreme, I’ll admit. But when I noticed the blood on your hands, all my worries disappeared. I would even dare to say that I was proud of you. Now I know for certain that no one will get their hands on you, my little threat,” he says the pet name with a pause between each word, shaking your chin between his fingers.

“Won’t happen again, swear I’ll be on my best behaviour,” you answer, pushing his hand away like a teen getting scowled, but you still smile shyly at the new name.

“Oh no, on the contrary, I do hope you kill again, but let’s focus our energy on people who actually matter this time, hm?” He cocks his head to the side, with the hint of a smile, and your smile can’t help but widen.

You spend some more time in bed talking about the plan in detail – you think it was the skin to skin contact, but you were more comfortable talking about murder plans in bed with your lover rather than in his large office – you needed to make sure that the soiree would go down without a hitch. The next few days were spent planning that night. Astarion shared with you all the information he had on the guests he planned on inviting – after all, you couldn’t just invite the man you intended on killing – you had to make it seem like this was a real event that Astarion wanted to host, and plus, he could always use the extra influence he could gain as a bonus for the trouble.

The spawns are made aware of the target of the night and their goal is to assure that no other guests get in the way of your plan. A group is assigned to assure the service for the night, and the rest of them are to remain in the shadows and act as security.

No dress needed to be made for you, but your dearest Lord being the man he is, still insisted on having a few more made for you. It was only fair after ripping open one of them last night, and any additional one was just “a gift for my beloved consort and for the tremendous progress she has made”, really, any reason was good enough for him to shower you with gifts. You welcomed it happily by now, now that you knew he meant well.

The plan was simple: Astarion stays in the ballroom with the guest to assure his presence, and you lurk in the shadows until you can isolate Virric and take him out, away from the crowd. As prepared as you think you are, anxiety still fills your chest when the night of the soiree finally comes. However it would go tonight, you would finally take down the man who assaulted you, alongside any plan he had against Astarion, and you would make sure he would regret ever approaching you.

The night is lively, as you watch the many guests arrive and take place around the room. Most of them are harmless, from what you recall of Astarion’s reports over the course of the previous six months: merchants, Dukes, and Lords, all serving different purposes, but none posing a direct threat, for now anyway. Some other night, you might mingle, attached to Astarion’s arm and swaying people your way, but tonight, your role has to be assured in the shadows. You stay in a corner of the ballroom, hidden behind a large pillar away from anyone’s sight. You close your eyes to concentrate on your link with Astarion, looking for an opening into his mind, when you feel the comforting embrace of his own mind.

“Well well, hello there, my sweet. Miss me already?”

You open your eyes back up, answering via your connection, “It’ll take me a while to get used to this.”

“We do have the rest of our lives to experiment with it.”

You swear you could hear his smile in your mind, and you smile to yourself in return,

“I’ve told our guests that you were bedridden and wouldn’t be joining us tonight,” he continues. “They send their best regards.”

“How kind of them. Tell them I said thanks.”

You hear the echo of his inner laughter, “I’ll make sure to pass the word, dear.”

As the evening passes on, the ball room fills with countless guests, making it harder to find a specific someone, but with your new abilities, your vision is the sharpest it’s ever been, allowing you to do just that.

“He’s here," you say.

“Has he seen you?”

“No, I’m still hidden.”

“Good. I’m still welcoming guests, it shouldn’t be too long before I’m free now.”

“And you’ll stay there, just like we planned.” There’s no response from Astarion but you can imagine him frowning; it’s not because you agreed to it that he has to be happy about it. “He’s moving away from the room,” you continue.

“Remember to stay hidden.”

“Yes, my Lord,” you hope he picks up on your tone that borders on condescendance. “Wait… he’s going up.” You pause as you think about your next move. “Stay with the guests, this might go better than I anticipated after all.”

“Be careful.”

“I am–”

“I mean it. Keep in contact at all times.”

You pause, acknowledging his worry. “I will. I promise.”You sever the connection, stopping him from talking in your mind any further. You didn’t lie, you were going to keep in contact, but after Virric was taken care of. For this plan to work, Astarion couldn’t interfere, and this was only happening because of your actions. You had to take accountability for them.

You follow him upstairs – keeping your distance – where you find him lingering in the hallways; he seems to be searching for something, or someone. You let him advance further into the palace, just to let him believe that he’s as furtive as he thinks he is, all the while making sure he was far enough from the ballroom so that his screams wouldn’t be heard when you would have the satisfaction to kill him.

Finally, when you see him at the door of your room, you speak up from the shadows.

“Looking for something?”

He steps back from the door, but doesn’t seem to recognize your voice, “My apologies, I was simply worried about the Lady of the house–”

“She’s bed ridden,” you cut him off, stepping out of the dark.

When he finally sees you in the dim lighting, his facade drops immediately. His fake smile is replaced by a malicious smirk along with furrowed brows.

“So I’ve heard.”

“What were you looking to find here?” Your tone is grounded, much different than that time in the gardens. This time, you know what you’re up against, and you’re ready.

“I simply wanted to make amends, nothing more, I swear.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, threatening to send you back into that night in the garden, but you don’t let it break your composure.

“I’m sure this is something you could’ve brought up with Lord Ancunín, instead of sneaking around in his palace, into his private rooms.”

He laughs, but there’s nothing warm in his voice. It’s vile, malevolent, and it brings out the worst in you.

“I’m afraid not. You see, this was a rather personal affair. I couldn’t let him get in the way.”

“Let’s settle it then,” you move forward carefully, drawing out a blade from under your clothing. Finally, back in your element, and stronger than ever.

“You know, I’ve done some research on you following our little encounter. Given, you were presented as Lady Ancunín, I searched with that given name and nothing came up, which leads me to doubt you have officially taken on the name yet.”

“I don’t see how that’s of any importance,” as you approach him, he finally moves on his own, making you two turn in a circle as you keep the discussion going.

“After some digging, I finally found your real name, and – you won’t believe it – but I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

You scoff, “Awfully sorry to break it to you, but I’ve never seen you in my life. You've got the wrong gal.”

“Of course, I can’t expect you to recognize me, as we never had the chance to be appropriately introduced.” His smirk doesn’t leave his lips as he draws out his knife from its sheath, the same one he used on you at the ball. You would recognize its intricate form anywhere; the handle was a poignant shade of red, so much so you believe it almost shone in the dark. “No, just when we were supposed to meet, you ran away.”

As those words leave his mouth, you notice the family crest on his blade, one that jumpstarts your memory, and your eyes widen in horror as you silently gasp.

Fuck. That’s the man your parents had betrothed you to five years ago. That’s the life you ran away from all those years ago, the man you refused. After everything that’s happened, it feels like centuries ago.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teases as you stay silent.

You try to conceal your shock with some false confidence, exaggerating your tone. “I simply can’t believe my gut feeling was right to run away that dreaded night. Looks like without even meeting you, I knew you would turn out to be a disgusting piece of shit.”

“Oh, such harsh words in the fine mouth of a Lady. We’ll have to work on that.”

The implications of his words make your skin crawl. “Enough. Tell me exactly why you’re here.”

“Why, isn’t obvious by now? I’m bringing you home, Princess.”

You lift your blade as a warning. “Over my cold, dead body,” the words leave your mouth before you can even process them, but the irony doesn't escape you.

“I would rather not. You’re way more valuable to me alive than dead.” He flips the blade around, almost taunting you with his moves. “But I can afford a few cuts and bruises.”

You’ve heard enough.

With a growl, you finally close the distance between you two, swinging for his head. A bold move, but you take the risk. He dives, making you miss your first blow, but you’re fast to come back around, protecting yourself. Your short sword provided you with the length necessary to provide blow from far enough to be safe from his knife, but you would still need to be careful – you didn’t know what else he could have up his sleeve.

“Little kitty has nails, I see. Your parents did warn me that you were a lot to handle.”

He’s trying to get under your skin and he’s not even trying to hide it. This man is a fucking joke.

You swing again, this time aiming for his side, but he parries your hit. You force against it, until he spins the blade around, pushing you backwards with the move.

He continues, “They didn’t mention you had training in the sword arts, I imagine you would’ve cost more otherwise. Not that you’re any good, but they would’ve had to pay the teachers, whether or not you passed their class.”

“I didn’t need training,” you growl with a ragged breath, before launching another set of attacks, rapid hits from the left and right, only to thrust forward at the last minute, managing to slash the side of his chest.

He steps back, panting, “As the titled Saviour of Baldur’s Gate, I would’ve expected better.”

“I didn’t come here to fight with words, Virric,” you spit the name like venom, “you either start swinging, or I’ll believe that you’re all bark and no bite.”

He laughs, “I love your fire, Princess. I’ll have fun taming it.”

Fucking asshole.

You swing with all the force you have and he barely manages to stop the sword from hitting him. As you push against him to get the blade to his throat, you miss him reaching for another knife that he uses to stab at your waist before ripping it out instantly.

You push yourself backwards, your free hand flying to your wound as you swear at the searing pain the blade left in your guts. You make space between Virric and you as you inspect your wound; it wasn't enough to kill you, and with another portion of blood you would heal fairly quickly, but for now, it wounded you badly enough to start bleeding profusely over your hand and tainting your dress. When you make eye contact again, he’s standing again, his dishevelled hair falling like curtains over his eyes. He smiles wickedly, almost laughing, as if he had already won the fight.

“Is it that easy to tame your inner fire?”

“Ugh, fuck you, Virric.”

“Oh, we’ll get there,” his chuckle has your stomach turning upside down.

As you straighten back up, two additional figures emerge from the shadows behind you, daggers in hand. Sensing them, you turn around to recognize the men you caught bad mouthing you and Astarion at the ball.

“I believe you’ve met my associates, Emreth and Alstaer Reyrie.”

Brothers, huh. I hope their death puts an end to their bloodline.

“Three against one, really? You think so lowly of yourself that you wouldn’t be able to take on me on your own?” In another life, you might’ve been a bard with the amount of vicious mockery you had out of pocket.

“Oh, I know I can easily bring you on your knees.” The brothers scoff when Virric speaks up. “No, these gentlemen are here for payback. They really didn’t appreciate your words at the ball, and I promised them they would have their chance with you.”

With your heightened senses, you’re able to pinpoint if they were to move a single hair, and you were extremely glad for it in this situation, as they circled you, like a pack of predators waiting to jump on their prey. Little did they know they were the prey in this scenario. There was no way in the Hells that either of them were going to land a single hand on you.

As you lift your blade in a defensive stance, you feel yourself wobble and your head heavier.

Huh?

All of a sudden, your vision blurs and you struggle to stay up, gathering all your force to keep your feet on the ground and your blade steady, attempting your best to hide your struggle. When Virric laughs, crossing his arms in his back, you quickly understand that the dagger in your gut was no ordinary blade. You don’t know what kind of poison he dipped it in, but you weren’t going to be conscious long enough to either figure it out, or to kill Virric yourself – unless you acted fast. When one of the brothers steps forwards carelessly, thinking you were already weak enough, you swing your blade in front of you, taking them by surprise as you slash his throat successfully. His blood splatter awakens something animalistic in you, and you grow to forget the blade in your possession.

In a fit of fury, the brother left alive rushes towards you, but you manage to evade his attack by a hair when you side step as he lunges forward. Baring your fangs as you let your new nature guide your next actions, you slash his face down with your sharp nails, creating new scars along his profile. He screams in pain as his hands fly to his face, rushing away from you to crash against the wall. One look at you in this state is all he needs to gape at the monstrosity before him.

“What in the nine Hells are you?!”

You already took one out, you just need to take care of the other two, this should be easy enough – if you weren’t incapacitated. As the poison settles in, you realise your consciousness is fading, slowly but surely. You try to stand defensively again, only to almost trip, managing to keep yourself up using your blade as support. You quickly come to the realisation that you’re past the point of fighting; you have no choice but to call for backup now.

Closing your eyes, you focus on your connection to Astarion.

“Astarion…”

No answer.

Shit, come on.

“Astarion!... Please… I need you…”

Silence.

You fall on your hands and knees, as your blade wobbles out of your grasp, and you try to reach out for it when you sense Virric walking around you, only for him to kick your blade away from you. It takes every ounce of resolve left in you to keep fighting your body to stay awake. You had to try, even if it was a lost cause. You try to connect to Astarion once more, trying your best to give him an idea of what had happened to you.

“Astarion… Virric… Poison… Help…”

You close your eyes, finally drifting to sleep, feeling a pair of unwanted hands already handling your unconscious body.

This might get a little messy, I'm sure

Heads rolling for the one I adore

This may become a little brutal if I'm honest

But it's anything for you my dear, I promise

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

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autumnshighlady · 6 months

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I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 26)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Eris has yet another surprise for you, and a secret is revealed

warnings: feyre slander, slightly nsfw towards the end

word count: 5.7k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this is a filler chapter, sorry if it's boring! wedding is coming up next chapter i think. also so sorry the taglist got messed up somewhere halfway through teh fic and it wasn't actually tagging people so if you haven't been tagged like 15 chapters i fixed it now im so sorry!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 /

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A throbbing headache greeted you as you peeled your eyes open, the bright rays of sunshine coming in through the window directly onto your face. You groaned, mouth dry as sand. Regret over those last few drinks washed over you as you rolled over, body shaky as you pushed yourself up.

“Morning!” Gwyn’s voice sounded through your blurry vision – her normally soft tone was ear-splitting due to your hangover.

“Ugh, please tone down your mouth noises.” You grumbled, rubbing your temples and yawning.

The redhead rolled her eyes, handing you a tray. “That’s what you get for drinking so much. A servant brought us a tray each for breakfast. Drink water and the tonic, you’ll feel better.”

You sighed, trying to fight off the hangover shakes as you reached for the tray. On the golden platter was a glass of water, a vial of liquid meant to ease how shitty you felt, and a plate with toast, eggs, fruit, and thick slices of bacon. The food smelled heavenly, but your stomach churned in protest. So you quickly downed the tonic before slowly sipping water, your throat no longer feeling like a desert.

Nesta had joined Gwyn on the bed in the far corner in an effort to get Emerie to sit up. The Illyrian female protested, eyes squeezed shut as she cursed the sun for being so bright. Despite your state, you snorted. At least you were better off than Emerie.

“Come on,” Nesta insisted. “You have to at least have a sip of water.”

Emerie shook her head vehemently, then cursed, dizzied. “No. I’m gonna die if I move another inch.”

Gwyn reached down to Emerie’s tray and grabbed the glass of water, bringing it up to her lips. “Here, that way you won’t have to move.” The hungover female protested, but Gwyn tilted the glass up anyways, forcing the water into her mouth. She sputtered for a second, but eventually swallowed some of the cold liquid.

With Gwyn now settled coaxing water into Emerie, Nesta headed towards your bed, smirking. “Morning, sunshine.” She said coolly. Her hair was loose and messy around her shoulders, eyes slightly red from the lack of sleep. But she still looked incredible, despite having drank more than you.

“Not fair.” You complained, rubbing your dry eyes again and scowling at your mate. “I drank half as much as you and you seem perfectly fine.”

Nesta plopped down beside you, shrugging. “Perk of drinking myself half to death for a few months, I guess.” She joked, then motioned to your bacon. “Are you going to eat that?”

“Go for it.” You shook your head. “I can’t imagine eating anything right now.”

A wider smirk came over Nesta’s face as she popped the bacon into her mouth, blue-grey eyes going up and down your body. “I can.”

You blushed, smacking her with your pillow. “What has gotten into you?” You hissed playfully so that Gwyn and Emerie wouldn’t hear. Your body had responded to her words instantly, heating up even more and making you squirm.

She shrugged, taking the second piece of bacon off your plate as well. “I’m just glad I can finally show appreciation for my mate without worrying about someone hacking my head off for it.”

“Fair enough.”

The four of you picked away at your breakfasts in silence, much to you and Emerie’s relief. The tonic began to work after twenty minutes, your headache slowly easing up and the fog around your brain clearing. Eventually, Eris and Azriel came through the doors, stifling their laughs at how hungover or sleep deprived you all were. After saying goodbye to your friends, Emerie grumbled something about the likelihood of throwing up all over Azriel as she took his hand, preparing to winnow. Gwyn’s cheeks flushed slightly as she took Azriel’s other hand, the spymaster’s shadows curling around her slender wrist. You raised an eyebrow at her, but she blushed harder and refused to meet your gaze.

After Azriel, Gwyn, and Emerie left, Nesta left for the bathing chambers to freshen up while you flopped back down into the bed, pulling the sheets over your head. “I’m staying here all day,” You declared. “Nobody wake me.”

You heard Eris chuckle, feeling the bed shift as he sat down beside you. He yanked the sheets down, and you whined in protest. “Eris!” You cried out. “Please, I’m so hungover. I just want to rot in this bed all day.”

“Too bad,” Eris said with a delighted grin on his face. “Because I have another surprise for you.”

You groaned, turning onto your stomach and burying your face into the pillow. “I cannot handle another surprise right now.”

“Trust me. You’ll want to see this. Now get out of bed.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish. Now get up.”

When you didn’t move, strong hands grabbed your waist, pulling you into the air with surprising strength and flinging you over the High Lord’s shoulder. You yelped, the blood rushing to your head as Eris gripped the back of your thighs, holding you steady as he walked.

“Put. Me. Down. Right. Now.” You hissed through gritted teeth, stomach churning as the world swayed around you.

“Absolutely not.” Eris quipped, squeezing your legs once and he strode down the hallway. “Besides, you’re too hungover to use any of those sneaky moves the shadowsinger taught you. So suck it up, do not vomit on me, and thank me later for dragging you out of bed.”

You groaned as Eris carried you up a winding staircase with ease, your upper body swaying across his back. “Where are you even taking me?” You asked, defeated.

“Your surprise is out on the private balcony.”

“What is the surprise?”

Eris snorted. “Mother above, you and Nesta are the worst when it comes to surprises, you know that? Nosy creatures.”

“You could have at least given me time to prepare.” You grumbled, realising you were still in your pyjamas.

“So you’d rather I have told you I had a surprise in advance and then let you stew over it for a whole day, leaving you in limbo before finally revealing it?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he had a point. You didn’t answer, and Eris laughed victoriously. “Thought so.” He said smugly.

Finally, after climbing up a mountain’s worth of staircases, Eris finally set you down. You wobbled, legs unsteady and clinging to the High Lord for balance as you adjusted to being upright again. A large wooden door stood in front of you, elegant whirling carvings along the edges. You shivered at the bone chilling cold of the stairwell, and Eris was quick to drape his warm cloak over your shoulders.

“Thanks.” You said before shooting him a glare. “But if you throw me over your shoulder like that again, I will nail your balls to the wall.”

Pure predatory smirk overcame Eris’s face as he met your gaze evenly. “Oh, please. We both know you enjoyed being tossed around.”

Your cheeks burned, unable to deny that his words rang partially true. You slapped his arm, and hissed at him, “This surprise better be worth it.”

“Oh, I know it is. Once again, feel free to use your spare time to brainstorm all the ways you can thank me later.” Eris simply winked, turning the knob and pushing the door open. You squinted, eyes taking a second to adjust to the bright morning sunlight that glared at you.

Stepping through the doorway onto the breezy balcony, your eyes began to focus. A tall, male figure stood a few feet away, the rays of the sun shining behind him and casting him in an otherworldly glow. Strands of red hair blew in the breeze, the light reflecting off of a familiar golden eye.

“Lucien…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as tears began to pool in your eyes at the sight of your friend coming into view. His golden skin shone in the light of Autumn, his red hair half tied back, revealing his chiselled, handsome face. It was filled with a mix of emotions as he stared back at you – awe, happiness, regret, all at once.

“Hey there, (Y/N).” Lucien said softly, lips pulling up in a smile.

All nausea and dizziness vanished as you surged forward, running towards your old friend. Your heart raced with excitement as you leapt into his outstretched arms, burying your face in his shoulder. There was no hope at stopping the sobs that choked up your throat, so you let them out. Lucien’s strong arms wrapped around you, holding you up as you clung onto his tall form.

Time was askew as you hugged him. It could have been hours or seconds for all you knew. You hadn’t seen Lucien since those few minutes after you escaped Rhys’s prison, all those weeks ago.

Eventually, Lucien gently set you down. You turned around to ask Eris how he had found and gotten his brother here so quickly, but your mate had slipped away, leaving you alone with Lucien. When you turned back to your friend, his remaining eye simmered with emotion. “I’ve missed you.” He said, squeezing your hands in his own.

“I’ve missed you, too.” You said through tears. “I’m so sorry, Lucien.”

He frowned. “What do you possibly have to be sorry for?”

“For everything,” You gulped. “For everything you’ve been through, for how you’ve been treated. For not trying to find you sooner–”

Lucien interrupted you sternly. “No. Do not say that. None of this is your fault. You’re safe, that’s all that matters. I’m sorry, too.”

“What do you possibly have to be sorry for?” You threw his words back at him playfully, despite the sadness still lacing your voice.

Lucien squeezed your hands again, regret crossing his kind face. “For not fighting harder for you.”

Your heart cracked a bit at his broken voice. Lucien was the best male you had ever known, always putting others above himself no matter the personal cost. “You showed up with armies from the Spring Court to get me back. I’d hardly call that not fighting for me.”

“I meant before that. Feyre and Rhys told me that you were enjoying Velaris and your new missions as a spy, which was why you hadn’t come to visit me. They even went so far as to bring me a scarf claiming it was from you. I simply believed them, and didn’t question it. It wasn’t until Azriel found me and told me the truth about your situation that I realised what was going on.”

“Lucien–” You tried to speak, to reassure him that he was not at fault here, but your friend cut you off sharply.

“No, it is not okay.” He said sternly. “I should have known better. I had never trusted Rhysand, but decided to take his word for it anyways. I was living in the human lands minding my own business while you were being tortured by that scumbag. And I will carry that guilt with me for the rest of my life. I failed you, (Y/N). And I am deeply sorry.”

You smiled sadly. “Listen to me. You did not lock me up. You did not deceive people. You did not have anything to do with what happened to me. That was Rhys and Feyre. They failed me, not you. And I made it out, that’s all that matters. You risked your life going back to Tamlin and raising the armies for me. If you really wish to seek penance for your guilt, consider that your debt paid.”

Lucien sighed, shaking his head. “I just can’t believe they put you through that.”

“I can.” You snorted, leading him over to the soft couch by the marble railing, overlooking the vast forest below.

“With Rhys, yes I agree.” Lucien said as he settled down next to you. “But Feyre… the girl I knew who went under the mountain would not have ripped open a court of innocent people for petty reasons. Before Rhys took her away, she gave her own jewels to a poor citizen who did not have enough money to pay the Tithe. It seemed that every time she went away to the Night Court with him, pieces of her slowly chipped away and were replaced with new ones that Rhys created. She was so young, so vulnerable, and now she’s completely under his spell. The fact she could let any of this happen to you disgusts me, and I am ashamed that she manipulated me into believing she was a better friend to me than I ever was to her.”

The autumn breeze soothed your warm face, the fresh air clearing your foggy mind as you drank in the beauty of the view. Lucien was right – the Feyre you had heard about in the stories of Under the Mountain was not the Feyre you had met. As much as you resented her, you couldn’t help but spare her a shred of pity. “She chose her path,” You said steadily. “Just as I have chosen mine.”

Lucien fiddled with the rings on his fingers, playfully elbowing your ribs. “Your path as High Lady and my awful brother’s wife, you mean.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him back. “He’s not so bad.”

Lucien laughed sharply, a beautiful sound you had missed dearly. “Ok, sure. Come talk to me in a few centuries when you’ve had enough of his bullshit and are debating throwing him off a cliff.”

“Eris seems so enamoured with me, I’m sure all I’d have to do would be to tell him to go fling himself off the cliff and he’d happily do so without question.”

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”

The two of you chuckled, just like old times. You adjusted Eris’s cloak, wrapping it tighter around your body. His scent filled your nostrils, filling you with content. “Lucien,” You said hesitantly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” The male replied with confidence.

You took a breath before speaking. “Eris is my mate. He has been extremely good to me throughout all this, but you’ve known him and this court almost your whole life. What am I truly getting into by marrying him?”

Lucien was silent for a moment, as if contemplating his answer. Regardless, you knew nothing he could say would change your mind. You wanted to marry Eris, and you knew he would look out for you. But marriage and the workings of Autumn? it was still unknown territory for you.

“Eris has always been a puzzle,” Lucien said slowly. “For as a long as I can remember, he’s been difficult to figure out. Everything he does is for a reason, and sometimes I can never figure it out. He switches personalities so fast it makes my head spin, and I could never tell what kind of male he truly was because of it. He was an excellent brother when Beron was not around, but the second he entered the room Eris became a different person.

“But it’s different with you. He’s different around you and Nesta, like he’s beginning to thaw. I think it will take a while for him to get used to not having to pretend to be Beron’s prodigy. But with time, he will soften up. Eris knows what he wants and will do anything to get it. He will protect you with unyielding loyalty, even if at times he may seem aloof. There will be times where you grow frustrated with him, and he may shut you out. But from what I’ve seen, I have no doubt that the three of you will be able to work things out. As for this court, give it time. The people can be frosty. Do not show weakness, for they will devour every ounce of exposed flesh like starved vultures. With the right leadership, I do believe it can change. But be patient, and unyielding.”

You mulled over Lucien’s words. He was right – it would be ridiculous to think everything would be smooth sailing from here. Being mates did not mean any complications in your dynamic would be immediately soothed over. It would take a long time for you to recover from and process everything that happened since you were sent to the House of Wind. Just as it would take a long time for Nesta to be comfortable with bathtubs and crackling fire. There would be challenges and disagreements, but at your core you knew it was nothing the three of you couldn’t manage.

“And how do you feel about us all together?” You asked. “Me, Nesta, and Eris, I mean.”

Lucien shrugged. “I see no issue with it. As long as the three of you are happy, that’s all that matters.”

“I wish the rest of this court felt that way.” You sighed. “They didn’t react well.”

He barked out a laugh. “No, I can’t imagine they did.”

You tilted your head back, letting the sun warm your face as you sighed. “So, when did you manage to sneak in here? I assume your banishment is lifted.”

“Yes, it is. Eris brought me here yesterday. I spent the day with my mother. Thank you, by the way, for what you did for her.”

Your heart swelled with happiness. You knew how much Lirilla loved Lucien, how much it pained your friend to be away from his mother for so long. She had a soft spot for him, as he was the least cruel out of all her sons. Every day you thanked the Mother that Lucien had not turned out like Beron.

In the distance, three dragons circled the air, sunning their wings in the rays of sunshine. Their gentle cries rumbled throughout the air like a song carried by the breeze. You snuck a glance at Lucien, whose eyes were fixed on the beasts circling the mountains in the distance. “Eris really did it.” He mumbled as Athariel spun upwards and around Zorzimril.

You whipped your head around. “You KNEW he had dragons?”

Lucien was awestruck as he continued observing the creatures. “Technically, yes. But I never believed him. When I was younger, Eris showed me 3 unusual rocks, claiming that they were dragon eggs. We played with them for hours, and I helped him build a nest to keep them warm. He swore me to secrecy, saying it was our own little game. He told me one day the eggs would hatch, and would grow into three big dragons. Then he, myself, and my mother could each climb on one and fly away from everything.” Lucien’s voice grew sombre, his eye darkening as he continued. “Then one day we found the rocks broken, and Eris told me the dragons had flown away after hatching. I was devastated, I had wanted to see one so badly. But he said they were gone, and I was to never breathe a word about them to anyone. I guess the slippery prick found them and raised them in secret on his own.”

“How did Eris keep dragons a secret from everyone?”

“Keeping secrets is one of his many talents. As I am sure you know very well since he hid the fact he knew that he was your mate.”

You snorted at the jibe, rolling your eyes. “Wow, so you really know everything then, don’t you?”

Lucien laughed, stretching his arms and resting his hands behind his head. The image reminded you of a cat sunning itself in the window. “Unfortunately, yes.” He said. “Eris and my mother filled me in. Among other things.”

You frowned. “Among other things? What does that mean?”

Lucien’s expression was grave, and he turned to face you. His golden eye gleamed in the sunlight but was equally intense as his regular eye as he stared you down. “Promise me that what I’m about to say, you keep to yourself, Eris, my mother, and Nesta.” He said seriously.

Confused, you nodded. Lucien took a deep breath before continuing. “Beron was not my father, apparently.”

You blinked in surprise, but bit your tongue. Lucien had always looked slightly different than his brothers, but you had never really thought twice about it. “My mother had an affair with Helion of the Day Court,” Lucien admitted, his voice hollow as if he didn’t even believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I’m his son, not Beron’s.”

Your jaw was slack. “Wow…” You muttered. “Does Helion know?”

Lucien shook his head. “No. But my mother has always been in love with him. It will take her a while to adjust to a reality without Beron hovering over her shoulder, to allow herself to love him openly. If that is what she desires, of course.”

“And what about you?” You asked your friend. “What do you want from all this? I mean… how does it feel?”

Lucien’s expression was distant, as if his mind was elsewhere. It wasn’t hard to tell by the way his jaw tensed that he was thinking of his childhood with his father, remembering every cruel word and ruthless fist he endured. How maybe if things had been different, he could have been spared Beron’s suffering and been raised by Helion – a father who did not delight in torturing his sons. Lucien had a rough life, one that did not seem to be getting any easier. From being banished from Autumn Court to living in a state of uneasy limbo with his mate who seemingly wanted nothing to do with him, Lucien’s life was never truly stable. He was always bouncing from one place to another, never truly fitting in.

You hoped that with his banishment lifted, Lucien would choose to come back to Autumn. After months of being separated from your best friend, you wanted nothing more than to have him back by your side.

“I’m not quite sure,” Lucien finally answered. “On the one hand, I am glad I am not actually Beron’s son. But Helion being my father changes very little. I was raised by Beron, and for better or for worse I am the way I am because I was a part of his family. In my blood, I am Autumn Court and always will be.”

“But Helion has no other children,” You pointed out carefully. “Which technically makes you the heir to the Day Court, whether you like it or not.”

He shook his head. “It is a power and title I do not want. I’ve never desired to be a Lord of anything, especially not one of an entire court.”

You smiled softly, leaning your head into his shoulder and sighing contently. “I know. That’s why you’re such a good male.”

Lucien wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed you closer to him. “I will let my mother choose what to do about Helion.” He continued. “She may well want to forget the whole thing and leave the past behind. If that is her wish, I am content to go along with it. If she wants to rekindle a relationship with him, then she may tell him that I am his son, and we would go from there. Besides, not all of us are High Lord power hungry like you.”

You laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. “You’re going to make fun of me for becoming High Lady of your court for as long as we live, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” Lucien purred. “Someone has to keep you humble so that power doesn’t get to that pretty head of yours.”

“Careful,” You teased, grinning. “Or I’ll force you to scribe notes during all the council meetings for a decade.”

“Never mind, reinstate my banishment and bounty, please. I’d prefer that over being your note boy for your and your mates’ stuffy meetings.”

Your laughter echoed across the wind, just as Zorzimril let out a playful screech in the distance. For a few minutes, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, until your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked, “So… speaking of mates, has anything happened with Elain?”

The male sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand. You felt a muscle in his neck twitch at the mention of her name, an instinctual reaction like the mere mention of her rang a bell inside him. “No,” He said stiffly. “And frankly, at this point I wish that she would just sever the bond if she wanted nothing to do with me. It’s agonising. And Feyre and Rhys keep her cloistered away, knowing it would be too hard for me to try and visit her after everything that’s happened. I want Elain to be happy, even if it’s not with me, but I truly don’t think she would be happy in the Night Court. I just… I just want her out of there. To give her a chance to choose her own life.”

“From what I’ve seen, she seems content to let her sister choose her life for her.” You kept your words delicate, not wanting to offend Lucien. As much as he was your friend, he was still a mated male – and now you understood that protectiveness he likely felt.

“I think the Archeron sisters need to be apart from each other.” Lucien said, stiffening but not snarling at your comment. “They’ve all been through a lot, and none of us will ever truly understand the history they have because we did not live it. Nesta needs this freedom here in Autumn to build a life for herself after everything was taken away from her. Feyre, for all her faults, needed to be loved in a way that was different from how her sisters loved her, and now she seems to have that. Elain… Elain has been coddled by both of them, from what I’ve heard. She needs to stand on her own two feet and figure out what she wants and how she can navigate this new life by herself.”

You picked at one of the threads of the cushion. “And you want to help Elain do that? Even if it means she severs the bond?”

He nodded. “Yes. I will not lie and say I would not be upset if she chose to do so, but she deserves the choice. We all do. Besides, isn’t Nesta planning on severing her bond with Cassian?”

“We don’t think there’s even a bond.” You admitted, stomach fluttering with nerves at the mention of Cassian’s name. The three of you still hadn’t figured out how you’d deal with that. “It’s a touchy subject. But we know he isn’t her mate.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “But Rhys said Cassian was her mate.”

“And you’re going to suddenly start taking his word now?”

“Point taken.” He corrected himself.

“Something about the whole situation is just weird.” You muttered. “Maybe a link between them is some kind of punishment from the Cauldron. Azriel is investigating it secretly.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow. “He’s still in the Night Court? After everything he did to go against Rhys?”

“Yup. I think Rhys knows he’s too valuable to lose at the end of the day, which is why his head isn’t on the chopping block. Azriel is good at playing both sides I guess.”

That comfortable silence fell over you for another few minutes as you happily existed in each other’s company. You huddled into Lucien’s warmth, begrudgingly knowing Eris was right and this had been worth getting violently dragged out of bed.

Later, you would think of ways to thank him.

An idea formed in your head as you thought of your mate. You propped yourself up, turning to face your friend. “Lucien?” You asked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Sure.”

You took a deep breath, wringing your hands together before blurting out, “Would you walk me down the aisle at the wedding?”

Lucien blinked in surprise, and then a grin spread across his face. “Really?”

You smiled. “Yes. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have giving me away.”

“Giving you away? I thought you wanted to smash all archaic male-oriented traditions in this court.”

“Don’t be an ass.” You smacked his arm playfully. “I do. But… I won’t have any of my family at the wedding like I always imagined as a child, and you’re the next closest thing. I just want you by my side, that’s all.”

Lucien reached forward, wrapping his big arms around you in an embrace. “Of course I will.” He muttered, squeezing you tight. “Thank you for allowing me the honour.”

The dragons screeched happily in the distance, reflecting the content you felt in your chest. So you inhaled your friend’s familiar scent mixed with the fresh autumn air. Everything you had done to get to this point was all worth it.

*********************

You all but skipped down the hallway towards Eris’s office in the private library. After hours of talking, Lucien had left to go on a ride through the forest with Lirilla. You had briefly bathed and changed, freshening up to remove the lingering mustiness from your body after the sleepover and alcohol.

You felt ten times lighter as you swung open the door with a force so strong the expensive knob bounded off the wall. Eris’s head snapped up from where he sat in a plush armchair, a mountain of papers in his hand. He was dressed in a billowy white shirt, the laces at the neckline undone and ever-so-slightly pushed open, revealing part of his toned chest. Red hair was tied back loosely behind his neck, and he raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the fire?” He asked dryly.

You simply bounded across the room in three steps and flung yourself into Eris’s arms, crawling into his lap and pressing your lips against his. His eyebrows shot up and he let out a muffled noise of surprise, but brought his hands up to your hips and pulled you closer. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee, melting in your mouth as you kissed him fiercely.

Your skin tingled at the sensation of his hands on your hips as they slowly crept downwards, giving your backside a firm squeeze. The mating bond was practically purring in your chest at the contact, urging you to give into your desires. But you reigned yourself in, finally pulling your lips away from Eris’s after your lungs begged for air.

The High Lord smirked up at you, face flushed from your kiss. “I take it you liked your surprise?” His hands stayed on your backside, gently gliding up your hips then back down.

You nodded, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. “You’re amazing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He chuckled, letting his lips drag over the shell of your ear as he spoke. “You’re very welcome, my dear.”

You pulled away, tangling your hands in Eris’s hair, tugging on the end of the locks right by his scalp. The High Lord tilted his chin back and let out a breath, eyelids fluttering as he grinned. You leaned down and pressed your lips to the column of his newly exposed throat. Underneath you, Eris shuddered as you grazed your teeth up his warm, pale skin before pressing a kiss just below his jaw. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, little fox?” He asked, but his voice was strained, hands gripping your hips tightly.

“Thanking you.” You purred, moving your head to the other side of his neck and repeating your actions.

Eris swallowed thickly, but chuckled. “Oh, sweet thing. Thanking me properly will have to wait until after the wedding.”

You leaned back, sitting up and frowning with confusion. Your mate’s subtle rejection stung slightly. “Seriously? I didn’t peg you for the wait until after marriage type.”

“I’m not,” He corrected, sliding his hands up from your hips and onto your lower back, pulling you closer to him once again. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to take you against this very desk and bury myself between your thighs until time loses all meaning. But I have plans for how I want to fuck you, the both of you. And it involves waiting a little longer. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded, but stuck out your bottom lip ever so slightly. Eris smacked your rear sternly. “Don’t pout,” He scolded. “Brats don’t get nice things. And you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“When I feel like it.” You shrugged playfully. Eris’s grin widened like a cat that had just eaten the canary.

“Oh, I am going to have so much fun with you.” His voice was a slick purr, heating up your skin as if his very own fire was running through your veins. Eris pressed a kiss to your cheek, then tapped your hip. “Now, I hate to brush you off like this, but as you can see I have a mountain of paperwork to get through before the wedding to make sure everything is in order. Nesta needs your help in the main hall, she’s all alone with those wedding planners and threatened to shave my head if I don’t send you to her the second you’re done with Lucien.”

You crawled off his lap, rolling your eyes playfully. “Aw, poor High Lord has paperwork.” You said mockingly. “You poor pampered thing.”

Eris shot you a glare. “Careful, little fox. Soon enough you’ll have your own mountain of paperwork as High Lady. That is, if you actually want to help me run this court. Unless you’d rather be like little Archeron over in the Night Court and be just a pretty face.”

You crossed your arms defiantly, knowing he was right. “Fine.” You turned on your heel to exit the study, cringing slightly as you noticed the chip in the wall from where you flung the door open.

“Little fox?” Eris called out.

You turned to face him at the door frame. “Yes?”

Eris’s smirk was devilish as he said coolly, “Do not seek out Nesta to satisfy your desires. She and I have already discussed the matter and are on the same page, so she will say the same thing I have told you, that you have to wait until after the wedding. And don’t you dare try to satisfy your urges on your own. If you do, I will know.”

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choccy-milky · 6 months

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1. your fic is absolutely amazing. Have been bingeing it and I’m literally obsessed. The way you write just itches my brain in such a good way, literally cannot contain my love and appreciation for your work👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 cheers to you!!! Can’t wait to keep reading

2. As I was reading I found out you also deadass drawing the art to go w/ the fic?? Literally you’re living my dream 😭 plus your art is so so so well done!!!!! It’s added so much joy to my reading experience

Cannot wait to see what else you have in store!!’ Hope you have an amazing, AMAZING day, week, year, etc.!!!! 💞🙌🏻🫶🏻

OMG IM GONNA CRY 😭😭 BAHAHA U SENT THIS AT SUCH A CRAZY MOMENT cuz i just checked my ao3 comments and was down about a rude comment i got, and then i come to tumblr and like, a few mins later/literally AS i was venting about it, u send this BAHAHA your choccy senses were tingling. IM SO GLAD U LIKE IT THO AND THAT YOURE ENJOYING IT (and my drawings, even if youve defs seen spoilers by now BAHHA) hope u have a good day too, u defs brightened mine!! THANK UUUU💖💖💖

@kaviary-blog this looks so funny bc i censored u just to keep it (mostly) spoiler free BUT AW THANK U DAMN IM HONOURED THAT MY FANFIC WAS THE ONE TO MAKE YOU CRY?? IM SO HAPPY HOW INVESTED YOU ARE 😭😭💖💖 im also super happy with that chap and its so satisfying like you said to finally be able to tie of all those threads so IM GLAD IT WAS WORTH IT💖

@lovesicklovermia ONE DAY???? OMG. FIRST TWO DAYS NOW ONE?? ITS JUST GETTING SHORTER AND SHORTER. next thing i know someones gonna be like yeah so i took some highly experimental drug that lets me read at 1000% the pace of a normal person, and i finished ur fic in 2 hours 😍omg loved it!!!😍😍 BAHAHAHA but omg i totally see what u mean, they do HAHA. AND THANK U💖💖 IM GLAD UR LIKING IT💖

YEAH so in my fic fifth years are 16, and by the time things get....explicit....clora and seb are 17. im not against consuming media with teenagers depicted in sexual situations like euphoria or riverdale or w.e else bc i get that its fiction and these are just real things that happen so its fine to write about them, but their canonical ages of 15 was still too young for me and i wanted them to be 17 before it got the E rating (which is why clora and sebs birthdays end up being so close, bc i was RUSHING for them to turn 17 BAHAHHAA)

BAHAHA clora and seb secretly being together is like the most poorly kept secret in my fic, like im sure her parents technically KNOW, but due to old fashioned traditions and whatnot (and it being 1891) seb wants to be able to propose properly and with a proper ring, bc clive is intimidating and he doesnt wanna just be like "yeah so im dating your daughter and weve already fucked and i plan to marry her" LOOL he wants to do things properly and be with her with her dads permission(even tho its a bit late for that HAHA) BUT WE CAN JUST PRETEND. tldr its basically just out of some sense of chivalry on sebs side, a fear of her dad, and wanting to do things right LOL

ALSO WAIT OMG STOPPPPP I WAS LITERALLY JUST ABOUT TO POST THIS BUTI HAVE TO INCLUDE THIS NOW

YOU SAW MY POST AND IMMEDIATELY DREW THIS AS A RESPONSE WHILE IN CLASS?? BAHAHAHA IM ACTUALLY SO TOUCHED RN IM TEARING UP WTF THATS SO SWEET OF YOU WTFFFFFFFFF THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭😭💖💖 (NOW PAY ATTENTION IN CLASS!!🤬🤬)

#ask #rude comment?? forgotten. coke zero?? SLURPED #the irony of drawing CLORA in class bc she would disapprove and want u to pay attention BAHAHAH

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italiansteebie · 1 year

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also on ao3 (Im not... super happy with this but here you go anways.

There were many things people didn't know about Steve Harrington. Like how he was fluent in italian, or how he actually didn't care that much about his hair or his looks, or how his parents are never home.

But people seemed to take one look at Steve and seemed to think they had it all figured out, and Eddie was no exception.

Until the guy started picking up the newest sheep from hellfire, until he saw Robin Buckley from band hanging out with him, hanging onto his every word.

So maybe he didn't have the guy figured out.

And he figured out he really didn't have shit figured out when a cheerleader started floating in his living room. Or when the ground split open and Steve Harrington wanted to go down there.

But then he figured out that for Steve, Nancy, and newly Robin, this was... Quite normal for them actually. And so they walked through the gross ass woods with Nancy Wheeler to find the guns that she had hidden in her closet. Guns. In Nancy Wheeler's closest. In a dimension hidden in the crust of this one.

What the fuck is going on?

So anyways, they make it out.

After Steve gets chewed on by bats, of course, and he gets up and runs like nothing ever happened and Nancy and Robin pretend that that's normal.

And he doesn't know how the guy did it because when it comes time for Eddie's turn, he almost dies. They kill the big bad guy, though Eddie doesn't get to hear about that part for a few weeks. He doesn't remember much about how they got out of the Upside Down the second time, but he does remember one really weird thing that Steve had said.

"Fuck, fuck! My leg fell off!"

And then he was being dropped, and it all went black.

They had done it, they had finally done it, he was dead and it was over. The race was over.

Well, Steve had thought it was over.

But then Dustin was sobbing over Eddie's body, and the kid couldn't stand up right, and suddenly there was another race to escape the throws of the upside down.

They were so close.

The steps of Eddie's trailer were right there. But of course life had other plans, and he felt the suction come loose.

And he toppled over.

"Fuck, fuck! My leg fell off!"

And maybe he should've thought about that sentence. but Eddie was slipping away and he panicked.

Nancy was the only one who really knew what he was talking about (to her credit, she was the only one of them who's seen him naked), but Dustin and Robin both looked very concerned, and he'd even heard Robin whisper "rabies." with a crazed laugh bubbled up as punctuation.

"Here, get dustin to the gate, I'll help Steve,"

"Wh- how are you gonna put his leg back on? How does a leg fall off?!" Robin asked, laughing again, this time more maniacal.

"Go!"

"Nancy!?"

"It's a prosthetic! the suction came loose, just get Dustin out of here!" Steve yelled, cutting through the shouting of the others, there was a studying pause from Robin and Dustin. "Questions later, please just go!"

So they did, Robin only looking back as Nancy cut away at the extra fabric of Steve's jeans, trying her best to help Steve with the suction sleeve of his prosthetic.

And soon enough, they were at the hospital.

Steve, Eddie, and Dustin had been admitted and Nancy and Robin were being checked over. They had arrived soon after Max, Erica and Lucas did, Max being admitted for multiple broken bones. (She'd be fine, the doctors had told them. Just a few broken bones and some new glasses).

–

When Eddie woke up, it took a minute for him to realize where he was. Uncle Wayne was to the right of him, holding his hand, looking a little worse for wear.

"Wayne?" The old man turned to him, eyes lighting up. "Oh, Eddie. you're awake," he could see the relief on Wayne's face, and almost felt bad for almost getting himself killed. But over the course of a few days, he woke up a little more, and Wayne told him all about how Chief Hopper came back from the dead, how the charges were dropped and a new trailer was waiting for them, curtesy of the government (which Wayne knew was shady but, hey. A new trailer is a new trailer). And how Steve Harrington had been visiting, every single day since he'd gotten better himself.

And that's when Eddie remembered.

"Hey, Wayne?"

"Yeah, son?"

"Did he have two legs?"

“Who?”

“Steve!” He said, exasperated, like it was exhausting just asking about the guy.

Wayne looked at him, "They up your morphine drip? Yeh, he had two legs." Eddie shook his head at him, "When we were in the... uh." Eddie hesitated, "Earthquake?" Wayne finished for him, "Yeah, earthquake, he said something about his leg falling off... but then I passed out... I. Is he okay?" he asked finally. Wayne pondered this for a moment, studying Eddie's face. "Well, he looked a little tired but, okay other than that."

"Is he going to come back today?" Eddie tried to sound like he wasn't desperate. It didn't work, if the look on Wayne's face said anything.

"Probably. When you were just waking up I pressed the nurse call, and she said she was fixing to tell everyone the good news."

And just like that, Steve walked in, eyes wide, "Eddie! You're okay. they wouldn't let me see you when I woke up and I was so scared that I didn't make it in… Time." He cut off his nervous rambling.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks to you, big boy."

Wayne arched an eyebrow at this and stood, "I'm- I'll leave you boys to it." and with that the two were alone. Eddie studied Steve for a while. This was not the guy everyone told him about, the guy his friends had warned him about, and he wondered how everyone got it so wrong. "You're not who I thought you were."

"I'm... Uh. I'm sorry?" He posed it as a question.

"No! Not like that... Just. Everyone thinks they know you so well. And I- They don't. It's like, no one knows anything about you."

Steve smirks, "I'm a man of mystery,"

"Yeah, but maybe you should tell people when you're missing a leg, dingus. Nice to see you back in the land of the living Munson." and there was Robin standing in the doorway. "Rob!"

She and Nancy filtered into the room, Dustin hopping on his crutches behind them, "Yeah, what's up with that Steve? I thought you were captain of the swim team?" Dustin inquired. Steve rolled his eyes, "Yeah, the disabled swim team." he laughed.

"So... When we were 'down there' your leg really fell off?" Eddie questioned, watching as Steve lifted up his pant leg, tapping on the metal that was there in place of an ankle, "Yeah, I was sweating so much that the suction came loose, and well... It just slid off."

"So... How did you lose your leg?" He asked, getting smacked in the arm by Robin, "Hey! No hitting the guy in the hospital bed," he said, pointing to himself. "Dude, you can't just ask people that!" She said incredulously, Nancy and Dustin nodding in agreement, while Steve just laughed. "It's okay, it's okay! I'm used to it. I lost it when I was young... You guys probably heard about it… Uh. Me and my nona were in a car accident, we were both fine but my leg got trapped in the metal of the car, and well... They couldn't save it. It was pretty scary for a while, not having a leg... But then my parents got me a prosthetic that had dinosaurs on it. Perks of having rich parents who don't know how to show you love. " He shrugged, and Eddie didn't have time to be sad before Robin piped up.

"You... Oh my god! That was you! I remember hearing about that, you were what, 7 right? Because I was six... I was so sad for you. Oh! But then you showed your prosthetic at show and tell!" Robin rambled, and Steve watched the realization cover everyone's face, including Eddie's morphine clouded brain.

"Dude, when I heard that, 9 year old me freaked out! I had just moved in with Wayne and all of a sudden there's a kid without a leg? I thought you were the most metal person ever! Before I even knew what that meant. Wow." The look on Eddie's face could only be described as starstruck, like he was meeting his idol.

"Man. People really don't know shit about you."

And Steve laughed.

“No really!” Eddie insisted, sitting up slowly to prove his point, Steve reaching over to help him the rest of the way, urging him to be careful. “See! That's exactly what I mean! You're so… Helpful! It's weird. In highschool, I took one look at you and thought I knew everything about you, but… I don't!”

“I mean, after a while, you stop trying to share stuff when people just assume they already know you.”

And maybe that made Eddie feel a little guilty, but he knows it wasn't meant too. “So. Let's get to know each other then.” He said, reaching for Steve's hand, Steve closing the gap and holding his gently.

Steve smiled softly.

“Ew, are you guys flirting?”

And both Steve and Eddie jumped out of their skin, forgetting they weren't the only ones in the room. “And what if we were, mind your business Buck.” Steve snarked, smirking back at Eddie. Robin rolled her eyes, “Let's play a game! It's called "get to know Steve!” Eddie cheered before the two could start arguing again.

Steve shook his head, “I won't have any mystery then!”

“Maybe I don't want you to have mysteries with me.”

Robin scoffed, “You're flirting again.”

And the look Steve gave her was so quick, Eddie almost missed it. But it seemed to do the trick because soon enough she was dragging Nancy and Dustin out of the room with her, claiming it was time to visit Max.

“You really want to get to know me?”

“I want to know everything about you, Steve.”

“Wow, I mean. No one's ever been like… Interested in me. They like my looks but… That's it.”

Eddie frowned, “Not even Nancy?” he questioned, regretting it as soon as he saw Steve’s face fall. “We weren't good for each other.” and that was all he said.

“What's your favorite color?”

“What?”

“What's your favorite color?”

“Oh. It's uh. It's green. Forest Green.”

Eddie smiled, “Getting to know you, getting to know all about you,” he sang, eyes squinting as he smiled, only for it to grow as Steve let out a giggle, an honest to god, giggled. Eddie thinks he's going to die, and what a place to do it. In a hospital bed, smiling at his crush.

Steve pulled his hand away, and Eddie frowned, “Where are you going?” Steve smiled, “No where, just uh. your heart rates been kinda high since I started holding your hand.” he giggled, pointing at the monitors who's beeps were faster than they were 15 minutes ago.

By the time Nancy, Robin and Dustin came back from visiting Max, the two boys had a date set for as soon as Eddie was cleared to go home.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie asked as the girls settled back into their chairs in Eddie's room, an idea sparking in his brain. Steve turned to him, eyebrows raised. “What’s on your prosthetic now?” He led.

“Oh, uh. It's just plain metal. My parents got tired of paying for the prints as soon as the whole thing wore off it's… Attention value I guess.” Steve shrugged, looking at the floor.

Robin jumped up from her seat, “Let's paint it!” she said, proposing the idea before Eddie could.

Eddie brightened, “Yeah! We can all add something!” He cheered.

Steve smiled, “You guys would do that?”

“Of course we would, Steve.” Nancy said, leaning over to rest a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him knowingly. And so the next day, the whole group was piled into Eddie's room, Will’s paint supplies spread across Eddie's bed.

“What did you guys need it for?” Joyce asked, a protective hold on Will’s shoulder as she scanned the room. Steve came out of the bathroom, metal leg in hand, crutch in the other, “This! They're going to paint my leg,” he smiled. And just as expected, the new information made the room explode.

After they shared the story, and Steve answered all the questions, it was decided that there was going to be even more art on his leg, even Hopper wanted to add his own piece.

Steve smiled as he watched his family paint something that brought his real family so much shame.

–

It was months later, Eddie was out of the hospital, and Steve was confident in showing off his prosthetic, now that had been decorated by the ones he loves. They were on a date in the park, Steve was wearing the shorts that Eddie loved so much. The wind was blowing a soft breeze, and the sun was just beginning to set.

“I'm so glad I got to know you.”

There were many things Eddie Munson knew about Steve Harrington. Like how he was fluent in italian, or how he actually didn't care that much about his hair or his looks, or how his parents are never home.

And how he loved with his whole body, and the way he likes his eggs in the morning, and the way he showed off his prosthetic when it was covered in reminders that he is loved.

If one thing is for sure, there was no way you could take one look at Steve Harrington and know everything about him.

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lonelyroommp3 · 5 months

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u dont have to answer this but i was wondering if u could elaborate on ur opinions about rpf -- bc i kind of agree with you that it's like, it's fine and it's not morally wrong or anything but it def is a little weird? idk ive never been able to rly explain my feelings about it so im curious what u think

honestly my main view on rpf (whether of the y/n self insert variety or the gay shipping variety) is it's literally fine as long as you're not putting it anywhere the people involved are going to see it. like when you boil rpf down to its bare essentials it is just fantasising about a famous person (or multiple famous people, in varying combinations), which is something human beings have been doing in their brains since people first started becoming famous. and i think expressing those fantasies through creative outlets like fic, art, 2013 polyvore outfit boards about going on a yacht trip with harry styles, etc is an entirely natural progression of that impulse

and in that way i sort of view it as similar to any other fantasy you might have about another human being: it is totally normal and essentially morally neutral, i hope you'd agree, to daydream about a person you fancy, whether those daydreams are PG-13 or heinously X-rated, whether they're a friend or acquaintance or stranger or celebrity. where it would become weird is if you went up to said person completely uninvited and said "hey, would you like to hear in elaborate detail about the things i thought about you doing to me while i was masturbating last night?" - and so i think the same applies to rpf. like obviously don't send your rpf to the person in question, don't show up with BLINK TWICE IF THE BABY IS FAKE signs to a louis tomlinson concert, archive lock your rpf on ao3, don't proudly post about it on websites that the people in question are active on especially in this age of algorithm-based social media where unless you lock your account you have no real surefire way of ensuring they'll never see it, etc etc. every time i see people talk shipping in the comments of an official f1 post a part of my soul dies

i think another big thing about rpf to me is that all celebrities are essentially playing a fictionalised version of themselves. no matter how authentic they seem to their fanbase, when you combine things like media training + PR/marketing obligations + building a Persona + the pressure of competing in a sport (for athletes) + the level of code switching inherent to being in what is essentially a public facing job, we as fans & observers are not seeing the real harry styles or taylor swift or charles leclerc or whoever else. we are seeing the version of that person that they want us to see (or, in the case of historical rpf, you're writing about a ghost reconstructed from fragments distorted through the lens of missing evidence, potentially biased historians, potentially even more biased first and third party accounts, etc), and so i don't really view rpf as inherently invasive because you're not really writing about the real person, moreso the constructed image of Celebrity Of Choice.

of course, that is not to say that rpf can never become invasive: the clearest example would be ship truthers harassing the people involved due to what they perceive as "evidence" of some great forbidden love story, but i'll be real there is a lot of F1 rpf specifically that i side eye from a distance because of how it will use drivers' intensely personal real life trauma as a plot point, which is a line i'm not really comfortable crossing with real living people, especially not when it comes to dangerous sports lmao. but i think that is an issue with some rpf enjoyers' boundaries and not an inescapable root problem with the very idea of rpf imo

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shesmore-shoebill · 6 months

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I half jokingly started writing this for Smosh Girlies Week Day 5: Smoffice and then it very rapidly got out of hand and had some actual emotions and etc sneak into it. So uh. Well. Enjoy a largely-unedited fic of "Angela watches the S&B video for the first time at the creator event, Courtmangela flavored".

Tentatively titled: "Leather and Harnesses". Nothing explicit here! Beyond what was in the music video I guess. I might move this onto ao3 at some point if im brave enough.

*mandatory disclaimer. this is rpf. f for fiction. dead dove. etc etc.

-----------

In retrospect, maybe Angela should've been a little better prepared.

In her defense, there's only so much you can prepare for when it comes to "Your workplace is making a music video about being submissive and breedable and your two coworkers/close friends/people you definitely have regular feelings about are playing dominatrixes in said videos. To your bosses. Who are calling themselves submissive and breedable."

Actually, Angela isn't sure someone SHOULD be prepared for that situation. Even if they have a job that involves sentences like "We need to have a safety meeting about where we're storing the floggers".

That said- maybe there were warnings. Signs. She had some knowledge of knowledge of what the video would entail- the theme of the video wasn't a secret internally, nor was the involvement of the cast. Or their roles. Even if Anthony and Ian didn't love making jokes about being submissive and breedable, Angela certainly wasn't going to forget Amanda and Courtney bounding up to her at 11 AM, full of excitement, crowing "Guess who are the sexy doms of the office!"

No, that moment is absolutely seared into her brain. She remembers the extreme hot flush that came over her body, and she remembers making a vague strangled noise that could, generously, have been interpreted as a "woo!" or a "yay!" in response to the news. and definitely not air punching out of her lungs at the thought.

And she remembers, what she thought was the world showing her mercy that Amanda and Courtney didn't seem to pick up on anything amiss, other than a long pause, with Amanda's gaze lingering a bit on her expression, and Courtney drifting closer, something charged in the air for a long second- before they continued their celebration.

Now, standing in a room full of her peers, slightly tipsy, watching her bosses on a screen chant "Submissive and Breedable", and feeling a mounting sense of dread. Angela is realizing maybe the world wasn't being merciful. It was just biding its time.

And- okay, fine. Angela should've known. She should've been ready. Maybe she'd let herself get lulled into a false sense of security in the last few months as her reminders of the shoot mostly boiled down to Erin griping about logistics during coffee dates, or Amanda or Courtney being busy on certain shoot days.

Smosh tried hard to keep details on this one under wraps, which meant Amanda telling Angela that they "did me all up in leather" (complete with an eyebrow waggle) or Courtney saying they "looked DAMN good in a harness", but not many details beyond that. Which had been fine for Angela, who, at the time, was already going through the full spectrum of human emotion trying to respond normally to this information, potentially failing, and then discarding the interactions from her brain before she could linger on them forever.

(And- fine, maybe she'd been trying hard not to think too much about the shoot because, more than it being Amanda and Courtney, it was Amanda AND Courtney. And because ever since the shoot, sometimes it felt like they were sitting a little closer than they used to. Like there was a sort of newfound understanding, or something, some kind of bonding experience there.

Where sometimes Angela would look up and they seemed to be gravitating towards each other a little more. Leaning a little closer to each other, or laughing at an inside joke clearly from their time shooting the music video. Little touches.

Nothing big, and it wasn't like- it wasn't like Angela was being left out of anything, technically. Amanda still was her lovely, caring, physically affectionate self, pulling her into warm hugs, leaning against her whenever she was near, as they talked up a storm about anything from the latest Dateline to LA traffic. Courtney still lit up whenever they saw her, immediately sharing gossip and compliments with equal joy, pulling her into selfies and hooking their arms together whenever they wanted to bring her somewhere, or just because.

It wasn't anything big, it was maybe just in Angela's head- the fact that, recently, when it was the three of them sometimes it felt like they were both watching her, that they sometimes giggled together quietly and it made Angela feel. Odd. Maybe it was just Angela, on the days when both of them were out, thinking too hard or too long about the idea of them- both of them- at a "sexy" shoot together, even if sexy shoots were never sexy during the creation process. Maybe it was something about the idea of them, in leather and harnesses, together, getting closer, while Angela-)

Well. Angela had been trying to not think too much about it, was the point.

And now, here, in a room full of Youtubers and coworkers and people she likes and respects, she's going to pay for it. Angela can't tear her eyes away, as her bosses- her bosses- dance and sing "Submissive and Breedable" and before she can brace herself properly, the song moves into its first verse, and-

Fuck.

Courtney, is onscreen, silhouetted in red, in a harness and tanktop. Courtney with a fake tattoo sleeve and their hair slicked back with chains around her neck and-

Courtney making a beckoning motion with her hand, Courtney throwing Ian onto a bed, Courtney slapping a riding crop on her hand, jesus fucking christ-

The song continues, the background switching to a white room with bbno$ and her bosses dancing in BSDM gear, and honestly, that's fine, because Angela is still trying to remember how to breathe. And think. She knows her jaw is agape right now and she's too busy trying to continue standing upright to care.

She can't decide whether to be glad or horrified that right now, at this moment, none of her friends are around her. Amanda and Courtney, while proud of their work, had both understandably opted out of being in the room during the initial screening, and Chanse, Erin, and Mallory had abandoned Angela for more drinks.

And by now Angela deeply, deeply regrets not joining them. She takes a gulp of her wine, wincing as it burns down her throat, trying to stabilize her breathing and ignore the way her whole body is overheating. Only for Anthony on screen to put on some kind of VR headset, and the background turns purple and Angela nearly swallows her tongue because -

Amanda.

It's Amanda, except Amanda in dark makeup and a dark lip and a high ponytail and- oh fuck, she wasn't kidding about the leather- a form fitting leather dress and harnesses and chains and- she's holding a collar-

-and she has on a choker that says "Mommy"-

(In some distant, distant part of her brain, Angela is glad that the people around her are wolf whistling or ooh-ing or laughing because she's pretty sure she made a noise when she saw the collar and she doesn't think it was a dignified one.

Most of her brainpower, however, is currently dedicated to stopping her knees from giving out under her and not crushing her wine glass under the influx of white hot arousal coursing through her body.)

There's a shot tilted up at Amanda, leather dress skin tight, riding crop in her one hand and makeup and hair and everything flawless. Am i dead. Angela faintly wonders to herself. Am I dead and my hell is me watching my close friends be the hottest thing I've ever seen in a room of professional acquaintances. On screen, Anthony is crawling at Amanda's feet, and- All Angela can think about is that being her. A collar around her neck, and Amanda over her and Courtney with her riding crop and-

Oh god. Oh god.

Something in her brain short circuits at this moment, goes so far into a kind of horny shocked awe that it loops back into a white numbness.

She tears her eyes away from the screen as the music video shifts, thankfully, back to the chorus and the white room and the dancing, and gulps down the rest of her wine, if only to try to stop staring in openmouthed shock. Looking away and staring intently at her cup doesn't help, much, though, because she's pretty sure she's going to have these images emblazoned across the forefront of her brain for the rest of the day. Or life. On loop in her mind, images of tight leather, and harnesses, and jawlines and-

shit. shit. shit. She steals a peek up at the screen, and- something vaguely goofy is happening but also Amanda and Courtney are both there now, still in their getup, still looking- fucking hot as hell, and- Angela averts her gaze again. She knew how she felt about both of them, on some level, okay, but she wasn't. Prepared. For this.

Across the room, Chanse is whooping a little as he watches the screen, new drink in hand. And because he sucks, and she hates him, he seems to feel Angela's gaze, and glances over at her, before a knowing grin spreads across his face.

He's not even saying anything, but she knows he knows. He's one of her best friends, and he's looking at her red face and unsteady stance and her empty cup and she knows, he knows. He's probably known this whole time, and he's silently laughing, now, and Angela's going to kick his ass the moment she's close enough. And remembers how to make her legs work.

Her revenge plot is interrupted by an eruption of clapping and cheers as, apparently, the music video concludes. Somehow, she'd survived. People are cheering and whistling as Anthony and Ian shuffle back towards the center, and Angela is- remembering how to breathe again, mostly.

Only to nearly jump out of her skin, shrieking a little bit as a familiar hand falls on her shoulder. "Enjoy the show?"

"I-" Angela attempts to get her heart rate under control as Amanda grins at her, the colors on her shirt swimming in her vision a bit. "You- well- I."

"I think that's a yes." comes Courtney's voice from over her other shoulder, and, okay, yeah, maybe Angela can just die now, because there's one hand on each of her shoulders and they're on both sides of her, Angela cannot stop thinking about how good they both smell, and-

"-Ang? You there?" and she blinks, and Amanda and Courtney are both in her vision now. Courtney eyeing her with a hint of warm concern, hand still on her shoulder. Amanda is facing away as Ian and Anthony drone on, but with an arm looped through hers, a warm and steady presence. When Angela doesn't immediately respond, Amanda glances back as well, a question in her eyes. Courtney, without saying a word, grasps Angela's hand and gently pulls Angela past the people standing behind her, maneuvering back towards the wall, away from the crowd. Amanda's arm stays looped through hers, shoulder pressed against hers until they come to a stop towards the back.

Once situated, Amanda swaps out Angela's empty cup for a cup of water (when did she even get that) and Courtney pats her arm. "Wow, that bad, huh?" They say jokingly, although there's a hint of vulnerability, there. Amanda reaches a hand out and squeezes Courtney's shoulder, before fixing her gaze back on Angela. "I'm sure it was- a lot..." Amanda trails off, uncharacteristically unsure. Angela, sensing the shift in the air, stumbles over her words.

"It was fucking incredible. You guys looked. Hot as fuck. I- it was. Really- good." She finishes lamely, self consciousness raging back in as she speaks. In the background, whatever speech Ian and Anthony are giving winds down, but Amanda and Courtney's gazes don't waver.

"Yeah?"

Amanda and Courtney exchange another glance, a little warmer this time. but this time, pressed between them, Angela doesn't feel left out of- anything, doesn't feel like she's missing anything, especially as they look back at her, a warm understanding growing between all three of them. She pulls in the arm Amanda is looped through to one side, and squeezes Courtney's hand with the other, pulls them both closer. Something about all of this feels- familiar, and safe, and suddenly Angela can find her words again.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop looking. At either of you. Nearly dropped my drink. You guys weren't kidding about the harnesses or leather, huh? No idea how I stayed standing, honestly."

As Angela talks, Courtney's smile turns a little more wicked, and Amanda's posture smoothes into something more confident and steady.

Spurred on, she bites the bullet.

"I don't suppose either of you got to keep any of those outfits, or anything."

Amanda's smile is blinding, and dangerous, stirring something deep in her core, and Courtney's hand in hers squeezes once, twice, as Amanda says, slowly.

"Oh, for you, I think we can find them again."

#smosh #amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #courtney miller #smosh girlies week #smosh rpf #courtmangela #listen i really and truly dk what came over me here #i uh. well. hope folks enjoy?#i apologize if this is incoherent or rough i started vaguely writing it yesterday and then kind of just. hammered it out after work #in a few hours. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORTER THAN THIS I JUST KEPT. adding in scenes to make it make sense.#smosh fic #my fic #ive written literally 2 fanfics before in my life. so. hopefully this is decent #amangela #courtgela #courtmanda #s&b courtmangela #my new tag for things in this universe i guess

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awaitinganorphanera · 20 days

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HI HEY NICE TO MEET YOU DO YOU HAVE ANY FIC RECS??? (ao3 or any platform actually)

K WOW, It's been a while since I get to answer any inbox questions so IM SO SORRY IF IT TOOK FOREVER FOR ME TO RESPOND ajshjashjash now I'm under the assumption that you're asking for CobyMeppo fanfics specifically?? if I'm wrong im so sorry 😭, but considering how you're asking me and considering how majority of the content that I post on here is exactly CobyMeppo driven then- I'll take it as a yes Well getting things straight then, I'll be breaking down the fics I'm recommending into two (with an additional third uwu) categories, with one being just shippy CobyMeppo romantic stuff and the other not necessarily shippy but implied and/or platonic ones because GOD i have an incredibly unhealthy attachment to these two

OK SO HERE WE GO

Coby/Helmeppo Fanfics on Ao3 I absolutely adore recommend (all of which are on ao3 <33):

1.) Non smut (yes this is classification i’m adding)

Words On Skin by marineduo (spiralxshock) - The basic premise of this is that it’s set in a modern au, where Helmeppo is a tattoo artist and Koby is a hopeless romantic writer, sadly it isn't complete but goodness it's such a cute and short read 😭

To See You Smile by DamianFinch2 (DamianFinch) - Jealous and possessive Helmeppo + gushing and crushing Koby. This fic is an adorable and angst one shot, with it holding one of my favorite dynamics being - Its short and a bit saddening for Helmeppo, but it's a commonality in the CobyMeppo community to make Helmeppo miserable 😊

Optics by The_Storybooker &

Choices by Ricky4479 - GOD I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE THESE TWO FICS, ESPECIALLY OPTICS. I just absolutely adore works that focuses on Helmeppos past and what he’s gone through, with him almost always trying his best to deny his feelings for Koby its just- F—

Expression by Eloarei - This one is just an adorable one shot with Koby being an insecure flustered mess as Meppo acts all smug with him, some of these fics are more OPLA based, which I honestly prefer since the way the Netflix l.a personalized Helmeppos smugness to be more endearing and less irritating is something i’ll never get over with.

Pressure Treated by Anonymous - Fics that tackle the Trans!Koby au is just so endearing to me, it's absolutely heartbreaking especially when it writes abt the gender dysphoria and crisis one feels. Helmeppo comforts Koby in this, it's heartwarming.

Careless Whisper by coralnebulas - More Trans!Koby but less angsty and more adorable and funny! Koby and Helmeppo are absolute dorks in this fic and it's so aishjasjsag

Rinse and Repeat by battybatzgirl - Helmeppo acting like a tsundere and denying his feelings for Koby, part 7267352. But yeah! It's short and cute and the characterization, humor, and writing from this author is phenomenal. 2.) MMM SMEXY STEAMY S E X

Helping Hands by leghair - Koby requests a body massage :)

Insomnia for Daddy's Boys With Repressed Feelings for Their Cute Best Friend by Xenophile45 - Meppo tries to sleep and get over his identity crisis and gnawing thoughts by letting one out for his friend

midnight habits by battybatzgirl - Meppo tries to sleep and get over his identity crisis and gnawing thoughts by watching his friend let one out

Of shirts, sheets and new haircuts by River1848 - Meppo tries to live normally and ignore his developing feelings for Koby, lets one out for his friend and gets caught. Said friend proceeds to comfort the poor guy

all tied up and fine print by battybatzgirl - These smut fics specifically are so unique and intensely ingrained into my mind - Actually, just read all the authors works, genuinely, every single OP fanfic they write is phenomenal including their Kobylu and platonic Coby Meppo content. There's a lot from them I haven't mentioned but a lot of which are Koby centric ajijassaksaj

To be needed in times of war by RainbowNixie - Ok, this one is NOT necessarily purely CobyMeppo, this is a Coby/Hibari/Helmeppo fic (WOO POLYAMORY) and is only read if u enjoy multi shipping or are ok with this. I do still recommend it though cuz it's amazingly written and the characterization of Helmeppo and Hibari here is so cute. - But srsly, to get into more detail, I genuinely would want anyone who's interested to check it out. This this this this is such an underrated but amazingly written fic, with the story revolving around Hibari and Helmeppo relationship dynamic w/ each other in the context of a Coby/Helmeppo/Hibari being in a polyamorous relationship. The fic focuses on Helmeppo and Hibaris doubts and feelings (SO MUCH FEELINGS) on their love and just utter care and worry for Coby.

3.) Coby & Helmeppo fics on Ao3 I adore and recommend (platonic/ only implied romance):

a pawsitively bad day by battybatzgirl - Did i mention to read this author - Koby turns into a cat :D

in my mind like a song (in my head like a zombie) by Glitter_Lisp - It's a Modern au w/ Trans!Koby being siblings w/ sanji, him and Meppo got into a fight but make up cutely in the end

Pink by fireontheriver - A short and wholesome one shot, with Helmeppo comforting and providing platonic intimacy and affection to Koby after the events of marineford

Constructive Dismissal by Senna_B - Modern au that ships Koby with X drake, with Platonic cobymeppo being its focus. - This one is honestly a nice read, mostly taking on Helmeppo’s pov and showcasing his feelings of inadequacy to his best friend. The characterization and writing once again is glorious, authors other works are highly recommended

As Bright as the Stars by your_dragon_just_shot_at_me - A chapter by chapter Plotty CobyMeppo adventure where they essentially just frolic around but with ✨mystery✨

Mirror by MatoMasaharu - insecure Koby overthinks and tries to stay tough as Helmeppo gets concerned in the sidelines

Hints and Glimpses by Senna_B - Probably one of my favorite coby and helmeppo centered fics that does a fantastic job in writing their friendship and dynamic, with it being a great one-shot story with an AMAZING plot regarding fortune telling and future events. Gosh the writing of their relationship, their friendship, the foreshadowing, the plot????? Good lord i ate this shit with a huge ass smile

friction burn by miswriting (m_is_writing) - MY ABSOLUTELY FAVORITE PLATONIC COBYMEPPO FANFICTION I REREAD AN UNHEALTHY AMOUNT OF TIMES!! - ITS AN A/B/O AU FIC WITH AN AMAZING MIX OF FLUFF AND ANGST, THE AMOUNT OF PHYSICAL AFFECTION AND CARE AND PERSONALITY THIS HAS IN THIS MAKES ME RAPID

OK, LASTLY, JUST LASTLY, THE FIC THAT WILL FOREVER BE MY FAVORITE, LIKE GENUINELY FAVORITE COBYMEPPO FANFIC EVER, THE FIC RESPONSIBLE TO MY HYPERFIXATION ON IT, THE ONE THAT MADE ME DECIDE TO START THE GETTING INTO THESE TWO AND LOW-KEY PUSHED ME TO FR START THE ANIME AFTER HAVING WATCHED THE LIVE ACTION:

birdsong and seafoam by literatureonhowtolose - Ok, now I know I might be overhyping a Fic up, and by all means, I most definitely am. I don’t promise that this would be any CobyMeppo fans favorite too, but it's just something that I genuinely, truly, adore and remember whenever this ship comes to mind. - Its ironic I think, that my favorite cobymeppo fic is the only fic in this list that isnt even focused on cobymeppo, and being one of the shortest - The thing I probably most liked about this fic is the writing. How much it managed to express and characterize Helmeppo and describe his thoughts with not much words. I’ll never get tired of rereading it

#cobymeppo #kobymeppo #coby #helmeppo #coby one piece #helmeppo one piece #fanfic rec #ask response

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jeanboyjean · 8 months

Text

PART 3: jean has friends

a/n: teehee! guys im on a roll rn weekly updates? who is she wc: 5.8k MASTERLIST | AO3 taglist: @honeybleed @cptnleviackerman @plutoccult @milky-aeons

“So Jean, what do you do in your spare time?”

Leaning back in your chair, you stretch out your arms behind you and roll out your neck. It’s another week into semester and you and Jean are back at it again, in the same room as the week prior, trying to get ahead on the report for the day’s lab. The two of you have been sitting here for the past half hour in a mostly comfortable silence but you've just finished most of your part and it’s time for a little break. The comforting scent of earl grey lingers in the air, wafting from your travel mug while the sound of Jean tapping away on his laptop fills the silence. His jaw ticks when he hears your voice and his hands pause, hovering over the keyboard.

“I'm sure there's more to you than gym and study. What are your hobbies?” You try again, rolling your head towards him.

Jean sighs. To your delight he bites, pushing his laptop away and crossing his arms over his chest. The motion flexes the muscles in his arms, drawing your eyes to the corded slopes of his forearms. You try not to let your eyes linger, instead flicking them up to catch his mildly annoyed expression.

“I hang out with my friends. I listen to music. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. I was just curious,” comes your cheery response. This week, you’ve decided to take a new approach to Jean - this being that you’re going to be as unbothered as possible. Truthfully, you really couldn’t care less about him, so unfazed are you by his character. His rude nature towards you may grind your gears but at the end of the day, you don't know this guy. His presence means almost nothing to you. It’s so insignificant in your life that you don’t even know why you’re bothering asking him these questions or why you’re grasping at straws to ask him more. As long as he pulls his weight, you're perfectly fine to not get along - in fact it’s the most ideal outcome.

You cup your head in your hands as you peer up at him with mild curiosity. “What kind of music?”

“None of your business.” He huffs. His eyes flit to you and then away, refusing to meet your scrutinising gaze. “Why are you interrogating me?”

“I'm not interrogating you.” You wave a hand dismissively. “Just wondering.”

“You’re very nosy.”

“These are normal questions to ask someone when you’re trying to get to know them.”

He scoffs in response. There’s a small lull as you study him, taking in the slope of his tall nose and the hollows underneath his cheekbones. He glances at you from the side, shaking the hair out of his eyes. “I’m surprised you even want to get to know me now.”

You snort. Well, at least he’s self aware. “Huh, well I’m surprised you have friends.”

“I have friends.”

“Sure you do,” you taunt with only a little malice in your tone. Honestly, you’re not entirely convinced. It’s hard to believe that anyone would voluntarily spend time with someone as dry and unappealing as Jean.

Jean narrows his eyes at you. You smirk, picking up a pen and twirling it in your fingers. He follows the movement carefully, eyes tracking the flicking of your fingers. Despite the front he’s putting on, you’re almost certain he’s not as prickly as he was last week. You could have sworn today in your lab that you had seen just the slightest hint of a smile when you had slipped on the linoleum floor. Granted, he had probably been laughing at you, but you’ll take what little you can get. You decide to play into it, trying to wear him down to see how long it’ll take you to get him to crack. If anything, you’re starting to enjoy getting a reaction out of him.

“Well, what about you then?” he asks.

Your head tilts in thought. “Hmm, I guess the same. Hang out with friends … we like to watch movies and stuff.”

Speaking of friends, you perk up when you remember the party Historia had invited you to for Friday night. You’re not much of a drinker but you’re looking forward to the night, definitely ready to let your hair down and get a little loose. It makes you wonder about Jean - you don’t think you’ve seen him at many of the parties you’ve gone to, even ones hosted by your mutual classmates. The question forms in your brain and you blurt it out without thinking. “Do you drink?”

There's a pause as something flashes over Jean's face, his eyes darkening and his jaw clenching. All the muscles in his body seem to tense as a flush creeps up his neck and tinges his ears pink. His eyes dart away from you and he clears his throat as he shrugs. “Now and then,” he says, attempting to seem indifferent but the words come out stilted.

You peer at him curiously. His reaction surprises you. There’s clearly something he’s not letting on. “Hmm, I think you’re lying,” you say with a teasing lilt to your tone. “You’re acting weirder than usual. I bet you’re a huge partier.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. It’s a familiar and welcome sight. You wouldn’t be surprised if a tally revealed he had rolled his eyes every ten minutes whenever in your presence.

“I’m too busy to party much,” he finally admits through gritted teeth. His chin tucks down and his hair falls to cast a shadow over his eyes.

Oh? You’re like a squirrel pouncing on every little nugget of information he drops. “What are you so busy with then?”

“Work.”

Interesting. You lean forward. Your elbows sneak closer to him, brushing against the side of his laptop. He narrows his eyes and nudges you back with the tip of his finger. The touch triggers a tiny current of electricity, running up your arm and tingling your nerves. A small laugh bubbles out of you and you ease up, sliding back a little.

“And where do you work?”

“That’s for me to know,” he replies shortly. His brown eyes are almost slits now, annoyance clear as day on his expression and he gestures toward your laptop. “Come on, let’s just finish this.”

You snort in response, finally letting off. He’s clearly uncomfortable and you decide to take mercy and stop torturing him. Your shoulders heave as you let out a deep sigh, reluctant to get back into it. “You know,” you start again, glancing over at him. “We barely even talk when we write this. We could probably just work on it separately and discuss things over text.”

He lets out a low grunt, his hand pausing over his keyboard. He glances back at you and his expression is hard to read. “Nah, I would prefer to just meet up and get it over with. Wouldn’t want to have to wait on you to reply and everything.”

You shrug. “Okay, suit yourself. Works for me. I’m a fast replier though.”

Jean doesn’t say anything, just lets out a low uh huh with a disbelieving look on his face, shaking his head. You swing your legs under your chair, pursing your lips. The desire to retaliate burns within you but you hold back and chew the inside of your mouth, watching him deliberately ignore you.

“Alright then, let’s get this done,” you say eventually, tilting your screen back to your face.

Friday at 18:32

queenstoria!: sent a link queenstoria!: can’t wait to see you tonight!! here's my address on maps You: so excited!! we’ll be there around 8 🙂 queenstoria!: oh also! guess who i ran into You: who?? queenstoria!: ur lab partner jean. i saw him at the library and we chatted for a bit. i invited him to come tonight 🙂 You: you what??? i told u that guy hates me queenstoria!: well he doesn't hate me so he said he’s gonna come

With a scoff you put down your phone. Eren looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch next to you. Exasperation boils your veins as you reread the text, her words taunting you with her indifference. Your face screws up in irritation, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your brows. Eren raises an eyebrow at you in question, steam rising from the pizza slice in his hand as he lifts it to his mouth. Two open pizza boxes sit in front of you on the coffee table, your dinner to pad your stomach before you absolutely obliterate it tonight.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He asks, dipping his open mouth to catch a bit of melted cheese about to fall off.

“Historia invited my stupid lab partner Jean tonight.”

“Well, it is her party. She can invite whoever she wants.”

“No you don’t understand,” you groan, running a hand over your face. You slump back into the couch, chin tucking down to rest on top of your chest. Your next words come out slightly muffled as a result. “He’s actually so weird. I don’t think I’ve had a single normal conversation with him.”

Eren snorts. He reaches forward to flick your forehead and you hiss, swatting his hand away. “He’s clearly not that weird if she invited him. I’m sure he’s a nice guy. You’re just judgy.”

You suck your teeth and stick out your tongue at him. He doesn’t get it. His dismissal adds fuel to the fire of indignation burning in your brain. Why is everyone so ready to discount how much of a struggle you’ve had for the past two weeks dealing with Jean.

Your heads raise when Mikasa walks in from the kitchen with Armin in tow, two drinks in hand. Bright red liquid sloshes in the glasses, the ice inside clinking when she hands one to you and you raise it to your nose, taking a sniff. You inhale a classic fruitiness masking the telltale scent of vodka and hum in approval. Vodka cran, your favouite. She settles down on am armchair next to the couch and tucks her feet under her legs while Armin sits on the floor next to the coffee table, leaning back to rest against the couch. He fiddles with his phone and a moment later, music plays from the speakers.

“Oi,” Eren says, nudging your side with his elbow. “What do you think of her?” He shoves his phone under your eyes and you blink, pushing his hand back to focus on the screen. It's open to an instagram photo of a girl with blonde hair and sharp features, staring up at the camera with a blank expression. You take his phone, scrolling through her profile as you take a sip of your drink.

“She looks nice. Pretty. Maybe a bit intimidating,” you pass the phone back to him. “Why?”

“We matched on Hinge. We've been talking a bit over the past couple days and she said she knows Historia.”

“Oh, is she coming tonight?”

He nods, smacking his lips. “Yeah, we're gonna meet up there.”

It’s no surprise. Eren's been on a bit of a dating spree lately, chatting up someone new every other day. Unfortunately, none of his pursuits have been particularly successful, flings that come and go so you don't really pay this too much attention. Chances are it’s just going to be another failed attempt and there's no point in getting too invested. He's been trying to get you on as well, something about “putting yourself out there” and “it would be good for you!” but in all honesty it's really not for you. The one time you had relented, you had deleted the app in horror in about an hour after coming across one of your lecturers. It had been a little too close for comfort if you say so yourself.

“You should get back on the apps again,” he starts, trying to sound as convincing as possible. He continues hurriedly when he sees your sceptical expression. “It's literally been years since you last went on a date. I'm starting to worry about you.”

“Firstly, it's only been one year,” you sass, holding up a finger in count, then putting up another. “Secondly, neither have Armin and Mikasa. Why are you always on my ass about this.”

Mikasa looks up when she hears her name and cocks her head at you. You pull a face at her, making a thumbs down gesture with your hand while you pull a face at Eren.

He sighs, shaking his head. An arm comes around your shoulders to pull you into his side and he pats your head as if to soothe you. “Those two are fine. Me and you though? We're the kind of people that need a little extra, a warm body to sleep next to… you know. Who knows, maybe you'll even find someone tonight!”

You huff, rolling your eyes and shoving him off you. “Speak for yourself. I'm not a horny gremlin like you.”

He smirks, his green eyes dancing in delight. His lives to tease you, the two of you naturally bickering all the time like a pair of school girls. It’s been the nature of your relationship from the moment you had first been introduced to each other as five year olds on your first day of school. Sometimes you wonder how you've still managed to remain friends after all this time.

A blessed distraction comes when Armin taps Eren’s leg to get his attention and he turns to him, looking at something on his phone. You sigh in relief and reach forward to grab a slice of pizza, setting your glass down carefully on the table. As you take a bite, you meet Mikasa’s eyes and she beckons you in closer.

“What were you guys talking about?” She asks with a low voice, resting her weight on her elbows as she leans over the armrest.

“Just Eren talking about his hinge dates again. One’s coming tonight apparently.”

Mikasa nods slowly, lips thinning into a line. She sinks back into the seat cushions, her eyes unfocusing slightly as she lifts her glass to her lips. “Oh.”

“Yeah and then he was just being dumb, trying to get me to download it again.”

She shakes her head, chuckling softly at your misery. This is nothing new for her either, she’s used to hearing you complain about Eren pestering you. It’s how it’s always been - you and him, the troublemakers, with Mikasa and Armin, the peacekeepers. It’s how you always hope it’ll be, you think, when you’re old and grey and living in neighbouring retirement homes.

A hush falls over the room when the song trails off and you hear the two boys murmuring together. You follow her gaze to watch them and warmth glows from your chest, a sense of fondness for your friends overwhelming you in an instant. No matter how much they may get on your nerves, these are your ride or dies, your home away from home. Something about it triggers the memory of your earlier conversation with Jean and honestly it's still hard to imagine him spending time with anyone except his own shadow. A thought crosses your mind, something petty and probably untrue but it rests there and you allow it to fester.

Bet Jean doesn’t have any friendships as strong as this.

The party is definitely underway by the time the four of you clamber out of your uber. Historia and Ymir’s place is a nice two bedroom house a little out of the way from campus down a quiet street and you almost feel a little bad for her neighbours with the way you can hear bass thumping from outside. It’s absolutely all Historia’s doing. She’s one of the most popular people you know, befriending everyone she meets, and it makes you wonder how she and Ymir could have possibly ended up together. Street lights illuminate your path as you make your way up to her door, passing a small lawn out front with potted plants lining the steps of the entranceway. You press a worn bell and a moment later the door swings open.

“Come in!” Historia exclaims with a wide grin, flapping her hands and pulling you into a warm hug. It’s only been a few hours since you last saw her in one of your lectures but she’s still as welcoming as ever. “It’s good to see you guys!”

She exchanges greetings and hugs with the others, ushering you all in before disappearing. Inside, the living room is buzzing with people, dance music blasting from speakers. You and your friends quickly make your way in, waving at the faces you recognise. After a minute, Eren and Armin split off when they see a few of their friends from outside your circle, telling you to meet them later. Mikasa also murmurs an apology when she sees someone she recognises and squeezes past you. You're left alone for a moment before Historia appears beside you with a couple drinks in her hands and shoves one into your hands which you receive gratefully.

“Here, have this! And look who I found!” She raises her voice to be heard over the background noise. She grins at you, eyes lighting up when she focuses on something behind you. Her hand waves excitedly, beckoning someone forward. “Ymir! Come here.”

You turn and see her partner Ymir, a scowl on her face as always. In all honesty, you don’t really know her that well, having only met her a couple times when she’s with Historia. Her standoffish nature seems natural though, not really rude, just more reserved, especially when compared to her girlfriend’s perpetual sunny persona. She stalks towards you and stops next to Historia, putting an arm around her shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Hey Ymir, how are you? The place looks great!” You say enthusiastically.

A small smile lights up her face as she looks around at the surroundings. “Yeah, Historia did a good job, didn’t she?” Your heart swells at the warm look on her face when she gazes down at Historia’s face. “Too bad, it’s gonna be a mess after tonight.”

“I’ll help you guys clean up,” you offer with a laugh.

Historia shakes her head, playfully rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Ymir’s just being dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic. I just saw some dumb guy drop his entire drink on the carpet. I had to give him a cloth and some carpet cleaner so it doesn't stain."

“Oops,” you wince in sympathy. “I'm sure it'll be fine.

Historia nods. “Yeah, Ymir don't worry.” She glances over at you and catches your eyes. The two of you try to smother your laughter as Ymir scowls, stewing in irritation. Historia pats her shoulder reassuringly and she shakes her head, heaving a resigned sigh.

“Okay come on, let me introduce you to some people," Historia announces, grabbing your hand. She squeezes tight, waving goodbye to Ymir as you let her pull you through the crowd, introducing you to her friends. The two of you make your rounds and you're surprised by just how many people she knows - some familiar from class, others are new from the various clubs she takes part in.

“Oh!” She gasps, looking over your shoulder when you’re standing talking with one of your classmates. “Look who’s here.”

You glance over your shoulder and your blood drains from your face, eyes widening in surprise. You hadn’t really expected to see him today but there he is. You watch as Jean makes his way towards the kitchen with two people in tow, one male and one female. They’re engrossed in conversation, laughing merrily. You realise you’ve never seen him laugh before and it shakes you to your core. His brown eyes are scrunched up in delight, the skin of his eyelids crinkling as his lips stretch into a wide grin. It makes him almost unrecognisable, so different from the perpetual grimace he wears around you. He slaps a hand across the back of the guy, who’s a little shorter with short cropped hair. The girl holds her stomach as she watches him stumble over his feet, almost doubled over in laughter.

Historia pulls your arm, catching your attention. “Come on, let’s go say hi.”

You shake your head furiously. You twist out of her grasp and cross your hands in an X in front of your face. “No, no no. I’m good, thanks. I want to actually have a good time.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll go by myself then.” With that, she shrugs and disappears from your side.

You turn back to your conversation. In the corner of your eye, you see Historia intercepting Jean at the kitchen island, letting him pour her a drink. You try not to stare at the way he smiles at her, body language loose and open. He’s never looked at you like that. His friends disappear from his side as the two of them chat and he says something which makes her laugh, a hand flying up to hide her mouth. Jean's shoulders heave as he laughs with her, lifting a hand to run it through his hair. His body shifts to the side slightly and he raises his head to look around the room and you stiffen, quickly looking away with wide eyes before you can be caught watching.

Mikasa finds you a moment later, stumbling up to you and grabbing your arm. Her cheeks are tinged pink from drinking as she sways to a stop in front of you. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” She exclaims, her words coming out louder than they need to.

You giggle at her. “I’ve been here the whole time. Where were you?”

“Eren and Armin are playing beer pong and it’s getting good. Come.” She grabs your hand and starts tugging you forward. You mouth an apology to your classmate as you turn and Mikasa drags you along, weaving past the people standing as obstacles in your way. You dodge them carefully as you follow her, almost tripping over your own feet.

The two of you find yourself next to the kitchen, stopping in front of the dining table where you see cups set up in formation, more than half missing already. You nudge your way through the small crowd that’s gathered to stand in the front to get a clear view of the spectacle. Eren and Armin are in the middle of playing against another pair - one girl, one guy, and you realise it’s the two people Jean came in with. They’re going back and forth, cheers erupting from all around as they play, downing drinks along the way. Laughter bubbles out of you when Eren misses his shot and groans dramatically, punching the air. There are only two cups left now, one on each side. The guy with the buzzcut carefully takes aim and then roars triumphantly when the ball plops deftly into the cup left on your boys' side. Eren’s hands press into the sides of his head as he sulks, lips pulled down in a disbelieving pout. Armin takes one for the team, grabbing the drink and sinking the liquid, making a face when he sets it back down on the table.

“GG!” The guy calls across the table. “Too bad we’re just too good.”

You snort. Oh god. You already know that’s going to rub Eren the wrong way with his competitive nature. Right on cue, Eren straightens up, pulling his shoulders back, mustering up all the bravado he can manage.

“Let’s go again. Round two.”

“I mean, if you want to lose again then I’m all for it,” Buzzcut taunts.

Eren scans the crowd around the table, lighting up when he sees you. He beckons his hand and you step forward, shaking your head in laughter.

“Nah, I’m not losing this time. I have my lucky charm here now.” He slings an arm around you and turns to Armin who puts his hands up in knowing defeat. “Sorry Armin. I’m gonna have to sub you out.”

“Fair, fair,” Armin replies unfazed, happily taking your place where you were standing next to Mikasa.

Buzzcut looks around himself. “Okay well if you’re swapping then I will too.” He points at someone in the crowd. “Jean get over here.”

Your blood turns cold, your hands stopping in motion where you were setting up the cups. Your head snaps up and you see Jean striding towards his friend. His eyes dart towards you then back at his friend’s face.

“I don’t really want to play, Connie.” You hear him say.

Buzzcut, or Connie, makes a face and punches his arm lightly. “What do you mean? You love beer pong we play all the time.”

All the time? Your ears perk up and you study Jean. He grimaces, before finally shrugging, accepting his fate. Eren pours alcohol from a bottle someone passes him into the cups and you grab the ball, tossing it to Connie.

“Winner starts.”

He crouches, sticking out his tongue in concentration as he lines up. His aim is accurate, falling into his target right in the centre. You exchange a glance with Eren - he’s clearly had a lot more to drink than you. Playfully, you roll your eyes, snatching up the cup and swallowing down the liquid. It's bitter and burns as it goes down your throat and you stick out your tongue, shaking your head in disgust. Whatever it is, it's definitely not just beer. In a rare moment of generosity, Eren lets you take the first go and you toss carefully, watching the ball travel in a smooth arc. You jump up, clapping in satisfaction when it sloshes into a cup right in front of Jean, who stands with his hands in his pockets. His eyes narrow at you in response and you smile sheepishly, innocently blinking up at him. Without a word, he snakes out a hand out to grab the cup, fingers wrapping tight around the plastic.

When he takes aim, his eyes flicker up to you for a brief second. The air is charged with tension, a competitive edge forming around the game as he shifts to the centre of his side, rolling the ball in his fingertips. His eyes glint with fire as he looks back down at the table and you shouldn’t be surprised when the liquid in the cup in front of you splashes, the ball falling in with ease. You seethe quietly as Jean stands back tall with a pleased smirk on his face. He meets your eyes and raises an eyebrow as if in challenge. Oh, it’s on.

The game continues in a tense back and forth, neither side willing to let the win slip through their fingertips. Somehow, it’s become centred around you and Jean with Eren and Connie as your personal cheerleaders, hooting and hollering beside you. You’re both well underway and you don’t know how many drinks you’ve had to swallow but suddenly, it’s your turn and you’ve got your eyes set on the single remaining cup on Jean’s side of the table. You crouch down, leaning over your side of the table, surveying your opponent. Eren taps your shoulder, cutting your concentration.

“Want me to take this one?”

You shake your head, arm paused ready to take aim. “No, I’ve got this. I’m gonna make sure we win.”

He nods, patting your back in encouragement. Your vision tunnels in to focus on your target, everything slowing down to this one moment. You take a deep breath.Three, two, one.

You let go and satisfaction blooms from your chest when you manage to sink the ball right where you want it. A cheer bellows around you and you join in, jumping up and down and waving your arms in the air. On the other side of the table Jean huffs, shoulders slumping as he reluctantly accepts his defeat. Victory has never tasted sweeter.

“Yes! That’s what I’m talking about.” Eren yells next to you, slapping a hand on the table. He takes you in his arms and lifts you off your feet. You giggle, letting him swing you around in a circle and the room spins, all the faces around you blurring together. When he sets you down, you look across the table, ready to throw it in Jean’s face but he’s nowhere to be seen. You clap your hands, relishing in the victory all the same as Mikasa races forward to highfive the two of you. Across from you, Connie yells out for another round but he’s shushed by his friend who tells him not to be a sore loser. As your shoulder heave in laughter, a heavy weight in your bladder comes as a reminder that you’ve just drank more than it can handle. You excuse yourself regretfully, announcing you need to go to the toilet.

Once again, you’re threading yourself through the crowd as you take yourself down the hallway to the bathroom. The music quiets the further you walk and the groups of people thin out to just a few leaning against the walls, seeking solace from the hubbub. You’re almost at the bathroom, identified by a cutesy sign with a doodle of a toilet hanging from the door, when you stop short. Jean steps out from the open doorway, looking down at his phone. His head lifts when he notices your presence and he pauses, a small frown on his face already.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you sing-song cheerily, your tongue a little loose from the alcohol running through your veins. “I totally beat your ass.”

He scoffs, putting his phone in his pocket. He crosses his arms against his chest and tilts his chin up to look down his nose at you. “I went easy on you.”

“Sure you did, superstar,” you smirk, eyebrows raised and eyes gleaming with satisfaction. You sniff, rocking back on your heels. “No need to lie.”

“I don’t lie,” Jean says, clearly lying through his teeth.

“Well, I mean I guess you weren’t lying about one thing … you do have friends.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “What made you think I didn't? I’m actually very popular.”

“That’s exactly what someone who’s not popular would say. Now I’m starting to think these are paid actors.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses, raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t give a shit what you think.”

“Pfft, okayyyy,” you say unbothered, drawing out the vowels and letting his words roll off you. Maybe it's the alcohol but his words no longer have the sting they used to. You let your reply hang in the air and there’s an awkward silence as you look down at your shoes, neither of you sure of what to say now. The music is muffled this distance from the speakers, and you can hear the hitch as Jean takes in breath before speaking.

“You have interesting friends too. That Eren guy seems like … a lot.”

“Oh, I guess so.” Your lips split in a smile and you beam at him. “He’s definitely a lot but that’s why we love him.”

Jean nods slowly. His throat bobs as he puts his hands in his pockets, shifting on his feet. All of a sudden, everything you’ve had to drink is starting to hit you now - your vision blurring, the floor wobbling underneath you as your knees buckle and you lurch forward slightly. Jean catches your arm to steady you. His hand is burning hot against your skin and goosebumps run up your arm radiating from his touch. “Woah,” you hear him say, his voice sounds a little distant like you’re hearing him through a fog. “You okay?”

You let out a groan. Unintentionally, you reach out a hand to rest against his chest in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. A wave of nausea passes over you and you screw your eyes shut but the darkness doesn’t help much to ground you as you teeter on your feet. Somewhere in your subconscious, you're aware of his heartbeat thrumming under your fingertips and the faint scent of something woody and fresh.

You don’t know how long it takes before a squeeze on your arm brings you back to reality and you slowly open your eyes, taking in a deep breath. The sight of your fingers clenched tight to grip his shirt hits you like a freight train. You jump back as if burned, pulling your hand away and wrenching yourself from his grasp in an instant. His hand lingers for a moment in the space between you before dropping back to his side. Concern is etched in his gaze, his brows furrowing low over his eyes as he watches you cautiously. You clear your throat, wrapping your shaky hands around yourself.

“Sorry,” you squeak, blood rushing to your face in embarrassment. You wrestle to take control of your mind and body as you sway on your feet again. “I think I drank too much and it hit me all at once. You know how it is”

Jean studies your face, eyes hard in disapproval. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much,” he says, voice low and gravelly.

You clear your throat and brush him off. “Whatever, it’s none of your business.” You try not to slur your words as you side step past him and gesture towards the open bathroom door. “If you don’t mind, I need to pee.”

He lets you go and you stumble into the bathroom. Hesitantly, you peek behind the door to watch him stalk away with his hands in his pockets. As if aware of your eyes on him, he pauses, his head turning back in your direction. It's the last thing you see before you slam the door shut so he doesn't catch you. A shaky sigh escapes your lips as you sink back to lean against it, pressing your hands into your racing chest. Jean may be a dick but you can’t lie he’s attractive and at this very moment your body is betraying you. It’s just the alcohol, you tell yourself but when you raise your hands in front of your face, they tingle, reliving the feeling of his solid chest and steady heartbeat.

A shiver washes over you and all of a sudden the room is spinning again. “Oh god,” you mumble as you race to drop in front of the toilet and retch, releasing everything you’ve consumed in the past few hours. Tears sting your eyes as wave after wave of nausea overcomes you while you crouch over the toilet seat. You slump against it, spitting bile from your mouth feeling the acrid burn in your throat. Using the small ounce of mental clarity you have, you grab your phone and type out a shaky text.

Today 21:49

You: pls helppopp im in bsthrom rn throwinh up mama mika: o god mama mika: stay there im omw

the girl on eren’s phone was annie and i think it’s hilarious imagining them going on a date LMAO

songs i listened to writing this/songs i WILL play on repeat at a party: give me everything (pitbull), hotel room service (pitbull), time of our lives (pitbull)

#jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #aot x reader #✎ . chloe wrote smth #attack on titan

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