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bonketh · 2 years

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[ jealousy ]

the bright light shone into you dark room , the light humming emitting off of the screen that sat on your desk . you blinked , rubbing your face as you sighed , typing something on your keyboard , watching the keys light up as you typed .

you thought the setting was pretty cool for your keyboard , and so you ' ve kept it set to the rainbow setting . nevermind that , you smiled to yourself as you opened up your favorite game , that lovely rpg game , OFF .

you closed your eyes , waiting to get transported into the game , just like always . you didn ' t mind , really , you liked the idea of being inside your favorite video game , being around your favorite game characters - all of the whole nine yards .

you cracked open your eyes as you didn ' t feel the usual cold feeling you felt whenever you were practically being sucked into your screen .

" wha . . - ? "

you peered around , seeing that you were still in your bedroom . " . . odd . . - " you muttered , looking over towards your screen , only to find it . . blank ?

" the hell ? " you whispered , your brows furrowing as you pressed on the arrow keys , only to see nothig move . well , no shit - the batter isn ' t even on the screen .

" what the fuck - ? ? " you huff , scowling as you scooted back , your gaming chair ' s wheels squeaking slightly as you stood up , shutting your computer off .

" maybe it ' s just some stupid glitch , or maybe i just need sleep - " you tell yourself , opening your door to go downstairs for a snack or two .

the air conditioner was set on 68 , so it was a bit chilly in your home . you grumbled quietly , rubbing your arms as you should have put on a sweater or somethin ' . .

you flipped the light on to your kitchen , gazing around before shuffling over towards the cabinet , grasping one of the various cups and placing it underneath the faucet .

why am i explaining how you get yourself a glass of water ?

anyways .

you take a sip , now infront of your pantry , deciphering whether or not you ' d want to take a cookie or a bag of chips to your room . or neither , and maybe just pick some other snack to eat .

you shake your head , sighing heavily as you grabbed a snack , shutting the pantry door as you turned on your heel .

" ah , play - " " WHAT THE FUC - "

you threw whatever snack you had spent more than enough time to choose , and began stepping back , in fear , or just because you wanted another snack , you couldn ' t tell .

" p - player it ' s me - b - stop throwing things - ! "

" DON ' T TELL ME WHAT TO DO ! I DON ' T EVEN KNOW YOU - ! " you screeched in retaliation , brows furrowed , body tense as you continued throwing whatever you could grab in your pantry at the mysterious figure .

" what a good situation you ' ve put yourself in , dearest batter . " a mysterious voice coo ' ed -

wait -

that mysterious voice sounds oddly familiar -

you glance around , spotting a tall figure , or - err - two , tall figures - and a cat ?

" what the fuck ? "

" language , please . . - "

you raise a brow . only one person you know would tell you to watch your language - " batter ? "

" finally - " the male breathed , a hand on his jaw as he rubbed the spot where you threw a uh . . a can of . . beans ?

" how the hell are you here ? " you ask , eyes wide as you stared at the tall being in front of you .

" ahem , "

" oh . hi . . judge . . "

" ha ha , can ' t forget about me , can you , dearest player ? "

" zacharieeeee - hey . . ha ha . . ha - "

" so , you all got transported into my world ? " you question , now sitting on the couch , smushed between the batter , as well as zacharie , the judge lying still on your lap .

" indeed , it seems so . " the judge purred out , his freakishly large grin widening , some how . . -

" we have no clue how we got here , or if we ' re even able to get back to our world . " zacharie said , his arm slung over the back of the couch , almost wrapping around you .

the batter seemingly noticed , and didn ' t take nicely to that . he cleared his throat , flicking zacharie ' s arm slightly , making the other male chuckle and wrap his arm around your shoulders , pulling you closer to his side .

you sat there , just chillin ' . the batter grumbled quietly , glancing the other way . " well then , guess we ' re stuck here until we find a way back to our world , yes ? " zacharie yawned out , a smug expression plastered onto his face from behind the mask he wore .

" guess so - " you hum , now laying your head on zacharie ' s lap , your lags strewn across batter ' s lap . the judge chuckled quietly before circling on your stomach , laying down .

" is this necessary ? " the batter whispered , scowling slightly as he poked your legs . " yep . " you mumble , snickering quietly . the batter shook his head , pursing his lips as he hesitantly laid his hand onto your leg , stiffly sitting there .

the judge purred contently as he stayed curled up on your stomach . you smile , closing your eyes as you felt zacharie shuffle a bit , seemingly reaching over to grab a blanket , resting the soft , yet itchy cloth onto your body , as well as a bit of the batter ' s lap .

" welp , i better enjoy this as it lasts - " you laugh quietly, snuggling into zacharie ' s abdomen , your smile widening whenever the judge curled further into you , seemingly asleep at this point .

zacharie as well , he seemed to have fell asleep as well . you guessed that being in a video game 24 / 7 really takes a toll on their bodies .

" player ? "

oop - you forgot batter was awake . . -

" yeah ? what ' s up , batter ? " you mumble , peaking open your eyes as you glanced over towards said male .

" . . nevermind . sleep well . " he says quietly , leaning back against the couch , now relaxing . hm .

you slowly sat up , making sure not to wake the judge , nor zacharie as you sat there , staring at the batter .

" what ' s wrong ? " you asked , frowning slightly . the batter shook his head , glancing away once again . " okay , i ' m not stupid - " " i never said that , you are indeed an intelligent being . "

you snort , grasping the hand that laid on your leg . " thanks , batter . but really , somethin ' s bothering you . " you say , patting his large hand with your much smaller one .

" . . batter . . are you . . jealous ? " " no . " " you are ! " " no , i am not . " " hah ! oh my gosh ! ! it ' s because of zacharie , isn ' t it ! ? " " go to sleep . "

#off #off x reader #the batter off #zacharie off #the judge off #i got so distracted multiple times writing this #excuse any typos #or anything confusing #hhhh

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emospritelet · 2 years

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Closing the Circle - chapter 10/?

In which Gold is, as usual, his own worst enemy. I'm afraid I had to add the 'angst with a happy ending' tag to this fic. As angst goes, however, it's fairly light and will be short-lived.

[AO3 link]

He waited until the sun had set.

Storybrooke after dark was a different place, and one more suited to his kind. It was calming, soothing, the night wrapping around him like a velvet blanket as he stepped out of the shop and locked the door behind him. The creatures that avoided daylight had just started to venture out, most cloaked in their human glamours, but he ignored them as he pocketed the keys and made his way to the library. The lights were still on, Belle no doubt working on her preparations for the library opening. He wondered if she would stay in town long enough to see it. The thought of her leaving was like a sharp blade between the ribs, and his mouth flattened as he pressed a hand to his chest, as though he was in actual pain. He would prefer it if she left, after all. It would be the best outcome for both of them. Why on earth should the thought of it upset him?

A car horn sounded, and he realised that he had stopped in the middle of the street. Looking around with a glare as the car swerved around him, he could see the driver ducking behind the wheel, as though they had just realised who they had almost run over. Gaston. What I wouldn’t give for an excuse to get violent with that idiot. Shame he didn’t hit me.

He crossed the road, hesitating outside the library door with his hand an inch or so from the handle. It’s for the best. For her as well as for you. Get it over with and you can go home and drink that whisky Jefferson gave you. Go on, you coward!

Belle set the last of the books in her current pile aside, squeezing her eyes shut and rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness in them. She had almost finished cataloguing the non-fiction books, affixing numbered labels to the spines and barcodes on the inner sleeves and scanning them into the computer system. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it had gone seven in the evening, and she had started at just after eight that morning. Past time to be calling it a day.

She closed down the computer, pushing back her chair and picking up the books for reshelving. The squeak of hinges from the door made her glance around, and she smiled widely as Gold stepped inside. The unrelieved black of his suit and shirt was broken only by a gold tie pin, a heavy overcoat keeping away the November chill. He still used the cane, still affected a limp in his right leg, but it seemed to melt away as he stepped inside. He looked good enough to make her want to lick her lips, and she felt a tug of need low in her belly as her eyes ran over him. God, I hope he wants to have dinner. The all night, naked kind.

“Hey!” she said brightly. “I was just about to close up. Well, not that we’re open yet, but you know what I mean.”

The door closed behind him with a hollow thump, and he grounded the cane between his feet, hands clasped over the handle as he nodded to her.

“Miss French,” he said evenly.

Belle rolled her eyes, gripping the pile of books in her arms as she headed for the little cart that was used for reshelving.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your impeccable manners,” she said, glancing at him, “but given how often we’ve been intimate, I think it’s fine for you to use my first name in public spaces.”

His expression didn’t change, his face unsmiling and closed off. She raised an eyebrow.

“You could even tell me yours, if you like,” she added.

No response. She wanted to sigh, and shoved the books onto the cart, dusting her hands and rounding the circulation desk to face him.

“Did you come over here to stare at me in silence, or is there something I can help you with?” she asked, resting her hands on the cool, polished wood.

Gold eyed her calmly for a moment, then reached into the inside pocket of his coat.

“I’m returning this to you,” he said, and placed the silver cuff on the desk between them with a dull click of metal on wood.

“Why?”

“Because I no longer wish to wear it.”

“Oh.” She pursed her lips, then shrugged. “Okay. I was going to tell you that you don’t have to, anyway.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes at that, but then they settled back into a flat stare.

“Were you?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said. “It was wrong of me to ask it of you in the first place.”

“It was perhaps one of your more sensible decisions, on the whole,” he said, in a dry tone.

“Well, I don’t need you to wear it anymore,” she said. “I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t,” he whispered.

“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” she said.

She kept her tone light, but there was something in his eyes that was making her heart thump. The cuff sat on the counter between them, and after a moment she reached for it, setting it down on the desk below and fixing her eyes on his.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked quietly.

“Why would you think there’s anything wrong?”

“You’ve been in a weird mood for the past few days, that’s why.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Okay.”

She was silent for a moment, waiting for him to speak, but he continued to look at her with that calm, dismissive expression on his face. Belle decided to change the subject.

“I had some more questions for you,” she said. “Perhaps we could discuss them over dinner. You could come to my place, if you like.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” he said evenly.

“The questions, or the dinner?”

“All of it.”

A heaviness settled in her chest, as though a skeletal hand had reached in and was squeezing her heart. Her fingers clutched at the edge of the desk.

“It’s not just the cuff, is it?” she said quietly.

“No.”

“You’re breaking up with me.”

Gold let out a tiny snort of amusement.

“Were we in a relationship I wasn’t aware of?”

Belle felt her jaw clench.

“Not specifically,” she said. “I mean, I know we never said anything, but - but you kept inviting me to dinner, and we kept having sex, so…”

“Hardly the foundation for anything meaningful, is it?”

Belle felt her mouth flatten.

“I guess that depends on your point of view,” she said stiffly. “I’ve been enjoying our time together. I thought you did too.”

Gold shrugged, one shoulder rising and falling as he pulled a face.

“It was - pleasant,” he said.

“Is that all it was?”

“What exactly are you expecting me to say?” he asked.

“It’s - it’s just that I thought there was—” She shook her head, trying to match his offhand manner. “Fine. I guess I was wrong.”

“About a great many things, I’m sure,” he said.

Belle folded her arms, her eyes stinging as tears began to form. She blinked rapidly to dispel them.

“Am I at least allowed to know why?” she asked, and the side of his mouth pulled up, fingers threading together over the cane handle as he settled back on his heels into an arrogant slouch.

“Because I am a great deal older and far more experienced,” he said in a lazy drawl. “As a result, I don’t feel that our little - dalliance - can offer me anything further.”

“Dalliance?”

“Well, what else would you call it?” he asked dismissively.

“I don’t know…” She fumbled her words. “A - a connection of some kind. An understanding.”

“For that, we would need to trust one another,” he said. “And since the moment we met you’ve made it plain that that’s not the case.”

“I just told you that I trust you!”

“Well, the feeling is not mutual,” he said. “In any event, it hardly matters, because I’m done.” A swift, side-swipe of one hand. “I see no reason to continue this farce of an association.”

He was being deliberately hurtful, and she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to yell at him or burst into tears. She swallowed hard, trying to focus on her anger rather than the pain of loss deep in her chest.

“So one day you’re giving me personal anecdotes and asking me to stay the night and the next what we have is a farce?”

Gold sucked his teeth, glancing upwards.

“Perhaps farce is the wrong word,” he mused. “I won’t deny bedding you was diverting enough for a quick fuck, to be sure, but - well, these days I bore easily.”

Belle could feel herself recoil a little, as though he had slapped her. She felt her lower lip tremble a little before pressing her mouth closed and raising her chin.

“I take back what I said about your manners,” she said, in as cool a voice as she could manage.

“Undoubtedly.” He inspected his fingernails, dark eyes flicking upwards to meet hers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that,” she said tartly, and his mouth twitched as he straightened.

“Goodbye, Miss French,” he said. “I wish you every success in your future endeavours.”

“You’re making me sound like an employee!” she snapped.

“I was thinking that our relationship, such as it is, is that of landlord and tenant,” he said. “If you wanted to break your lease early, however, I’m not unreasonable. I’m sure we could come to some arrangement.”

Belle put her hands on her hips, outrage warring with heartache.

“You’re expecting me to leave town?”

“I didn’t say that.” His voice was cool. “I merely indicated that if you were so inclined, I would not make it harder than it needed to be. Good evening to you.”

He bowed his head to her and turned on his heel. She watched him go, the tap of his cane on the wooden floor, the light gleaming on his hair, and a wave of frustration and anger surged upwards, making her clench her fists.

“You’re a coward!” she blurted.

He froze with his back to her, the slightest flinch in his shoulders the only indication that her words had reached him. Slowly, he swivelled on his toes of his shining shoes to face her, his face a flat, expressionless mask. It made her anger grow, and she rounded the circulation desk, stalking towards him, her chest heaving with outrage.

“What changed?” she demanded. “You’ve been weird since I left you in bed the other day! What, did you suddenly remember you’re capable of feeling something for another human being and get scared?”

Gold gave her a wry, humourless grin.

“Your hypotheses are always amusing,” he said. “But I’m not human, remember? A fact you made sure to remind me of on more than one occasion, I might add.”

“You were once,” she said, and raised her chin, her jaw protruding in her anger. “You were a man with human feelings and - and hopes and dreams! Is that what scared you? Did being with me remind you of what you lost?”

“What I lost?” He let out a scornful snort. “You think I miss my old life? Do you honestly think that I would trade my very comfortable immortal existence for what I left behind?”

“I don’t know what you left behind!” she countered. “I know almost nothing about your old life, but I want to!”

“I’ve told you before, I'm not interested in being a chapter in your thesis!” he snapped.

“Oh, bugger the research!” she said impatiently. “I want to know you!”

“And I’ve had all I wanted from you.” His voice had lost its brief fire, become flat and calm again. “Prolonging the inevitable is a waste of my precious time, so unless you feel like being dinner, I suggest you accept that. I feel it’s bad form to eat someone I fucked, but it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

Belle could feel herself swell with indignation.

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” she snapped. “You could have killed me any time if that was what you wanted, but you didn’t! You were changing! You were opening up to me! You can’t tell me that meant nothing, don’t lie to me!”

“I told you what I felt.”

“Well I don’t believe it!” She glared at him. “You’re lying to yourself as well as me! Pushing me away because you think it’s easier to be alone, because you’ve always been alone, but you don’t have to be! You could be a good man, I know it!”

“This is pointless!” he hissed, and turned back to the door.

“Why won’t you listen to me?”

She reached out to grasp his arm and Gold rounded on her, closing in until they were almost touching, his eyes fixed on hers. They were pitch-dark and fathoms deep, each with a gleaming speck of gold from the lamplight. She could smell his scent, warm wood and spice, sparking memories of the nights spent wrapped in his arms, and she licked her lips as desire rose inside her. His nostrils were flaring, either in anger or from inhaling her own scent, and for a brief moment she wanted him to kiss her, to push her against the wall and take her. The air around her seemed to hum, a pressure against her skin that made her want to shiver, and she clenched her fists to keep from reaching for him. The tip of his tongue darted across his lips, and she felt her breath catch at the dangerous light in his eyes.

“I am over fourteen hundred years old,” he said quietly. “I was centuries old when the language we are now speaking was born.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“I have seen empires rise and fall,” he went on. “I have seen old gods make way for new, and watched humans die like flies from war and disease and the turning of the years.”

He leaned in close, his lips almost brushing hers, and Belle swallowed hard.

“Your lives are insignificant,” he whispered. “Pinpricks of light in the darkness of eternity. Campfire sparks burning out in the night sky. What could you possibly say that could hold my attention?”

The words caught and died in her throat, a hard ball of iron that was painful to swallow, and all she could do was gaze at him wordlessly. Gold’s mouth set in a grim line, and he nodded once, as though in confirmation.

“Good evening, Miss French,” he said, and drew back, pulling open the door and heading out.

Belle watched him go, pain and frustration making the tears start to well in her eyes again. This time, she let them fall.

Sleep was elusive for much of the night, and she felt drained and a little nauseous the next day. A text from Aurora suggested breakfast at the diner, and so she dragged herself into the shower before dressing. Clouds had been building in the east, dark at the horizon with the promise of snow to come, and she shivered as she crossed the road to the diner. Mulan and Aurora had evidently just arrived, and were taking off their coats and scarves. Belle sent them a brief smile as she shrugged out of her coat, and Mulan frowned, sitting down next to Aurora.

“Hey,” she said. “Are you okay? You look kind of - uh…”

“Yeah, I know,” sighed Belle, slumping into a seat. “I didn’t really sleep. Again.”

“Another late night?” asked Aurora, with a grin.

“Not by choice,” she said, picking up the menu.

“You should really remind Gold that humans need a solid six to eight hours to function properly.”

“I wasn’t with him,” she said, and hesitated. “Actually, he - ended it. Whatever it was we had. It’s over.”

She pretended an interest in the menu, aware of the silence across the table from her.

“Are you okay?” asked Mulan gently.

“Of course,” she lied. “What are you guys ordering? I think I need at least two coffees before I can face anything solid.”

“Belle…”

“I’m okay!” she insisted. “Can we talk about something else? We’re wasting valuable caffeine time.”

“Did someone mention caffeine?” Ruby had appeared at their table, coffee pot in hand, and all three sighed with relief and held out cups, making her grin.

“You know what you want to eat yet?” she asked.

“We’ll let you know when we’ve drunk this,” said Mulan. “None of us brought our A-game this morning, it has to be said.”

“Just yell when you’re ready,” she said, and wandered off to another table. Mulan watched her go, craning her neck, and then ducked her head, fixing Belle with her dark eyes.

“It’s the full moon this weekend,” she whispered. “We can see if our theory about Ruby is right.”

“Okay.” Belle cupped her coffee between her hands. “We’ll ask her about her plans for the weekend, or something. Maybe suggest a girls’ night. I could really do with one.”

“You don’t have to wait if you want to drown your sorrows,” said Mulan. “I’m working tonight. Come sit at the bar and down shots and tell me what that asshole did.”

“Or, if you prefer, I can see if someone’ll swap shifts with me,” offered Aurora. “We can have a slumber party at our place with ice cream and way too much wine.”

Belle sent them both a tremulous smile.

“Maybe we should do both,” she said, and pulled a face. “I may as well make the most of the time I’ve got left. My life is, after all, insignificant as a spark in the night or - or a dying fly, or something. According to some people.”

“He said that?”

Belle hunched her shoulders.

“He said he’s bored,” she said gloomily. “That there’s no basis for anything meaningful in what we were doing. I’d rather not relive the rest of it.”

“That bastard!”

“Yeah.” She pushed back from the table with a sigh. “I’m sure he was being deliberately awful and trying to push me away. It was pretty horrible.”

“Men!” said Aurora, with feeling.

“Can’t live with ‘em, can’t - oh wait, that’s it,” said Mulan, making Belle let out a watery chuckle.

“That evening of drinking is sounding more tempting by the minute,” she said.

“You girls planning a night out?”

Ruby had appeared once more, coffee pot in hand, and Aurora smiled up at her.

“We’re thinking of going to the Rabbit Hole on Saturday,” she said. “You should join us, it’ll be fun! I can’t stay out too late - I have the early shift Sunday - but the others’ll be there until it closes, and it would be a few drinks and laughs, at least.”

“Oh, I can’t,” said Ruby hastily. “Sorry. Saturday’s no good for me.”

“Oh, too bad,” said Mulan. “I’m working there now, so if you want to come over Friday instead, I’ll give you the biggest shot of whatever your poison is. On me. Payback for all those awesome coffee refills you give us.”

Ruby hesitated.

“Can we take a rain check?” she asked. “This weekend’s a total bust. Time of the month, you know?”

“Oh, sorry.” Belle gave her a sympathetic look. “That bad, huh?”

Ruby let out a hollow chuckle.

“You have no idea.”

“Well, if you need a sleepover with ice cream and hot chocolate instead, I’m all yours,” said Belle, and Ruby smiled.

“That’s sweet, but I’d be pretty terrible company,” she said. “It’s kind of an alone time for me. No offence.”

“Oh, none taken.”

“I think we’re ready to order,” said Aurora. “I’ll take a mushroom omelette.”

“Sure thing.”

Ruby set down the coffee and whipped out her pad and pencil, and Belle shared a glance and a nod with Mulan. Time of the month. Maybe we’re right about her. I wonder if she’d tell us, if she knew we meant her no harm.

She gave her order—a stack of blueberry pancakes—and turned back to her coffee as Ruby hurried off again. Mulan tilted her head to the side.

“So,” she said. “If Gold was an ass, does this mean he won’t be giving you any more intel?”

Belle screwed up her nose.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “We didn’t exactly part on good terms. I think we’re on our own on the research front.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be anything new,” said Aurora.

“Yeah, I know.” She took a sip of coffee. “Actually, there’s something you two could help with. I found a stack of old newspapers in the library. I thought there might be something in there. Old stories about the townsfolk, that kind of thing. Could give us some useful insight.”

“We’ll take a look after breakfast, if you like,” offered Aurora.

“Don’t you want to go home and sleep?”

“An hour or two looking at old news should be enough to make me sleep like a baby.”

Belle giggled at that.

“Okay, sounds good.”

She inhaled the aroma of coffee, willing it to ease the groggy feeling in her head. Dealing with her heartache was going to take something stronger.

Once breakfast was over, the three women headed to the library, and Belle made a pot of tea and divided up the pile of newspapers. On closer inspection it turned out that they were a mix of the local Storybrooke Mirror and other papers from around New England. Belle flicked through a copy of the Mirror, finding the usual small town stories of petty crime, craft sales and charity events, and advertisements for local businesses. There was nothing that hinted at the true nature of the town’s inhabitants. She reached for her tea, and glanced over as Aurora let out a tiny squeak of surprise.

“What is it?” asked Mulan. “I got nothing. Well, unless you’re interested in who grew the biggest pumpkin in 2018.”

Aurora held up the newspaper, a copy of the Boston Herald.

“I was just flicking through this,” she said. “It’s dated over two years ago. It sort of - called to me, I suppose. Like that tickle at the back of your mind when there’s something otherworldly nearby.”

“You’re more sensitive to that kind of thing than me,” said Belle. “Let me look, what is it?”

She spread it out on the circulation desk, revealing a double page of advertisements: the usual mix of local traders and mail-order offers.

“I don’t see anything,” said Mulan.

“Yeah, but I can feel something,” said Aurora. “Belle, what do you think?”

Belle frowned, peering at the newspaper. Touching the page made a tingling sensation run through her fingers, humming over her skin, and she shivered.

“There’s definitely something there,” she said. “Maybe we could try a little magic? A drop of unveiling potion could help. There’s some in the apartment.”

“I’ll get it,” said Mulan promptly, and headed off.

“It’s the green one!” Belle called after her. “Bright green, not the forest green!”

“On it!”

Belle turned back to inspect the newspaper.

“So you think something’s hidden under what’s there now?” she asked. “Like a secret code? Like a glamour - disguising what’s really there and making it look normal? Something that can only be revealed by using magic, I suppose.”

“It’s a clever way to hide things,” said Aurora. “But I’m not sure you need to use magic to reveal it. I think it would work for anything connected to the supernatural, whether they were human or not. Magic wielders and dark creatures alike. I bet Gold would only have to touch it to show what’s underneath.”

“D’you think it’s a message?” asked Belle. “Or - or maybe an article. Maybe there’s a special underground reporting team that uses the mainstream press to get news out to the supernatural community.”

“There must be someone at the printers, for sure.”

The sound of footsteps made them look around, and Mulan ran back in with a small bottle in her hand.

“Bright green, right?”

“That’s the one.”

Aurora took the bottle and teased out the cork. She let a droplet fall from the unveiling potion, and Belle let out a tiny gasp as the pictures on the page seemed to swirl and morph into something else. It looked like a double-page advertisement, with colour photographs of Storybrooke harbour and the woods on the outskirts of the town. It was inset with a picture of what looked like a werewolf with its arm around a smiling man, whom she recognised from the Rabbit Hole.

‘“Storybrooke, jewel of the eastern seaboard, where creatures of all kinds are free to be themselves within a close-knit community, without fear of persecution,”’ read Mulan. “‘Whether you drink blood or bourbon, our local bars can quench your thirst. The surrounding woods are perfect for outdoor rituals, gathering ingredients or just howling at the moon!’”

Belle chuckled at that.

“Wow. Maybe we should try ordering a double shot of O-negative next time we go to Granny’s.”

“Listen to this,” said Mulan. “‘If you yearn for a life of peace and prosperity in a diverse community, regardless of the state of your soul, the Coven is waiting to welcome you. Use the runes below to contact us and start your journey to freedom!’”

“So it’s an advertisement aimed at supernatural creatures, placed by this Coven,” said Belle.

“What, do they invite them to town and then give them a tour or something?” Mulan asked. “Is it like a supernatural resettlement program?”

“It sounds so - quaint,” said Aurora. “I think it’s nice that they all look out for each other.”

“It must be the witches at the Mayor’s mansion,” said Belle. “I’m certain they’re all witches. That Zelena woman pretty much confirmed it. That must be the Coven in the advert.”

“I suppose it makes sense that they would have someone dealing with all the logistics of handling different creatures and magic users,” said Mulan. “There must be some sort of welcome pack. Discount vouchers for the Dark Star Pharmacy and a ten-point ‘don’t eat the locals’ list.”

They all giggled.

“For real, though,” said Aurora. “There must be some sort of code of conduct in this town. There are as many humans as there are other creatures.”

“Based on what we can see, yeah,” said Mulan. “They could all be casting glamours. It could just be us and the witches in a town full of monsters.”

“Well, if so, they’ve been remarkably well-behaved,” said Belle. “I asked Gold how come they all coexist peacefully, and he said something about power struggles in the past being dealt with severely. I think Aurora’s right. There must be a code that they all keep to, and the Coven enforces it.”

“Makes sense, if the Mayor’s involved,” said Mulan.

“Shame I lost my chief source of info,” said Belle, straightening up with a sigh. “Tight-lipped as he was, I think he might have been able to tell us something.”

She dropped her eyes, gaze on her hands, and looked up as Aurora put a hand on hers.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked gently. “It’s fine to not be, you know.”

“We can still come back later with wine and ice cream,” offered Mulan, and Belle let out a hollow laugh.

“I’m fine. Or at least I will be,” she amended. “I mean he’s right, isn’t he? It’s not like we had any kind of future together.”

“He’s still an ass,” said Mulan, and Aurora nodded.

“I know.” Belle toyed with the edges of the newspaper, irritated at her own sadness. “I just thought - well, I thought we had a connection, that’s all. I was wrong.”

“Maybe we can get info from someone else,” suggested Aurora. “Ruby might open up, if we speak to her. Or maybe Lily.”

“She could tell us about the Coven,” agreed Mulan. “We could see if she’s up for talking about it. She doesn’t seem all that happy at home.”

“Maybe she knows something about that weird magical energy I keep feeling,” said Aurora. “We were going to refine that spell to track the source, but she might be able to tell us something about it.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard Emma saying something about them going to the Rabbit Hole today to play some pool,” said Belle. “We could check it out.”

Aurora pulled a face.

“I have to sleep,” she said. “You two go. You can fill me in later.”

“I’ll walk you to the hospital when it’s time for your shift, and call back for Belle,” said Mulan. “I start my shift not long after, so we’ll be killing two birds with one stone.”

“Three,” Belle corrected her. “I plan on drowning my sorrows.”

#fic: closing the circle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic #vampire!gold x monster hunter!belle #excuse any typos #covid seems to have stolen my ability to spell

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ceruleanmusings · 6 months

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Flutter

Becca asked me nearly a year ago, ssssh!, to write something inspired by the first clip in this tiktok for Mel and Isaac. Short, quick, and fun. Isaac’s a goner from the day he met her. This is super cheesy but I like it anyway. I love them.

“Why’d you put on a filter?”

“Huh?” Mel’s thumbs stilled on her phone and she looked up at Isaac. The golden light bathing the streets of downtown Beacon Hills made her squint one eye to battle the overexposure. Adding in the wrinkle to her nose, Isaac could’ve died on the spot being in such close proximity to the cuteness. “What d’you mean?”

He used his chin to motion to her phone. “The picture you just posted. You put a filter on it.” The crowds from the emptying movie theater moved around them. He took a step closer to her, freeing up space on the sidewalk. That was the second reason, anyway.

“What? No I didn’t. I never put a filter on my pics.” Her thumbs moved across the screen, quickly adding a caption to the picture still on display before posting. Chimes went off seconds later indicating a shower of likes and comments. Barely giving her screen a glance she shoved it into her pocket and looked up at him. He always seemed to have her full attention. “This golden hour light is as close as I’ll ever get to using one.” She shrugged. “Instagram can get really fake, I don’t like adding to it.”

“It has to be one,” he insisted. “I mean, look at your eyelashes.” Anyone else would have laughed at his lame attempts at conversation (or, rather, to keep conversation) but not her. She took anything he talked about seriously, as if everything he said was important. And the way she looked up at him, round electric blue eyes beneath a long, thick rim of black, as if she were riveted? He’d do anything to keep her looking at him like that. Case in point: a dumb conversation that didn’t need to happen but he made happen if only to squeeze more time with her. “They can’t actually be like that. I mean, are they real?”

“They grow out my face like this.”

“If you say so.”

She put her hands on her hips, squinting up at him while lifting up on her toes. “Are yours real?”

“Of course they are.”

“They’re really long. it’s almost unfair. Guys should’ve had eyelashes that long. It should be against the law.”

He shrugged. Yeah, this was really dumb. But he’d bend over backwards doing just about anything dumb for her. Because she made him feel not-so-dumb and, after living with his father for so long, it was nice being silly without being punished for it. “Don’t know what to tell you.”

“Wait, so yours can be real but mine can’t? That’s kinda rude.” Even as she admonished him, she cracked a smile so wide sunbeams may as well have embedded themselves into her teeth with the way it sparkled. And he, somehow, was the lucky loser who go to bask in her spotlight.

Isaac held up his hands. “I mean, girls have the help with makeup and stuff right?”

“I can prove it. Look.”

His breath rushed out all at once, not from the jarring scratching of the brick against his back when she pushed him into it but from the heat sinking into his skin from her hand on his chest. Her smile faded, just slightly, as her eyes closed and she tilted her face up towards him, giving himself an up close and personal view of her gorgeous face. And her lashes, too.

Ok, this was torture. But what did he expect goading her with such a dumb argument? His fingers twitched and he curled them into his palms, lest he do something astronomically dumb like touch her face under the guise of moving her hair out the way.

Though he topped himself on the dumb scale a second later when he leaned down, just enough their noses almost touched, just enough he could count the tiniest freckles dotting her nose, just enough for his lips to...

Her opened and she ducked her head. Apologies thundered like a waterfall out his mouth for, well, for being such a guy. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Maybe he deserved his father’s punishments if he kept screwing up like that. They were friends. That’s all. He should’ve known.

“It’s okay,” Mel said beneath his rapid-fire stammers. “It’s okay. I’m not mad or anything. Just, kinda...distracted?” She pressed a fingertip to his sternum. “You got nacho cheese on your shirt.”

Humming, Isaac looked to where her finger had pressed into his chest only to be overwhelmed by the essence of her when she popped up on her toes and kissed him, causing his heart to flutter. And when she pulled away, she brushed her nose against his and leaned back on her heels, smiling up at him while whispering, “Gotcha.”

#my writings #teen wolf ficlet #isaac lahey #melanie crowe #teen wolf #teen wolf oc #melisaac #otp: the song and the howl #ficlet: flutter #excuse any typos

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inkskinned · 10 months

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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME #there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing #and the writing is what i need to be doing #writeblr #this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to #edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol #i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means #i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong #i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse #i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO #i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness #and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it #im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us #i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer #and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work #even if it means being miserable #but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.

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l3viat8an · 5 months

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Nsfw ♛

Happy birthday Solomon you old ass mf mwah <3

CW: Blowjob, fantasizing / dirty thoughts- Idk it’s basically Solomon having a dirty imagination- light bondage mentioned + Solomon sending you a dick pic- I think that’s it helppjsjs

Solomon had been thinking about it all morning….about how you had to leave early as usual to help those brothers with some minor disaster or another.

How you left him in his big, lonely, bed with only the memories of the night before.

He’s stuck thinking about how good you felt, your lips wrapped around his cock while his hand was tangled in you hair, stroking, guiding, gently tugging every now and then when he felt like you were teasing him too much.

His other hand holding yours, fingers laced with his so you can squeeze if it’s too much. The way you looked up at him, your eyes looked so bright and eager.

“O-oh. fuck… little star, right t-there,” he praised, when your tongue kitten licked the tip of his cock. watching your face relax as you leaned forward taking a deep breath, and letting Solomon buck his hips into your face, your muffled moans vibrating around his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his still messy bed head, the other hand slipping under the waistband of his pajama pants, pulling his cock out and groaning as he starts to jerk off.

The things you do to him- just the thought of you tearing up, being on your knees for him and ready to have his cock down your throat has him leaking, soft moans slipping past his lips as he slowed his pace, idly rubbing his thumb over his tip as he lets his mind wander a bit more.

Still full of thoughts about you, maybe a new scenarios? One with him, tying your hands behind your back with your uniform tie.

the light pink material tied, just tight enough to sting, but not too tight that it’ll stop your blood flow.

Gods, the image he had in his head made him want to go and drag you away from the others and just…help him, focus on him.

He can picture it so clearly in his head, you’re not even out of your uniform yet. Already on your knees as you take him as deep into your mouth as you could, your nails digging into his thighs as his hips bucked into your face, his cock making you choke and gag, your face covered in your drool and his cum….

a fantasy he needs to come true. and that’s when he decides to text you, ‘When will you be home?‘ a small pause between his texts, ‘I need you :(‘ ‘Need to fuck that pretty throat of yours.‘ followed by a picture of his flushed red -and still hard- cock.

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the-clotpole-and-the-disgrace · 9 months

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barbie is one of the best aroace characters ive seen on the big screen yet. in a world where aspecs are slowly getting more recognition, hence increasing the targeted negativity from others that comes with not confirming to societal standards, having such a well known character not only have no interest in sex or romance while others in her environment do, but showing that her lack of romantic or sexual feeling is not something that stands in the way of her being her true fulfilled self sends a powerful message against amatonormativity. in this essay i will

#excuse any typos barbie broke my brain #i hope this makes some lick of sense #barbie is a cinematic masterpiece 10/10 recommend #i literally saw it twice in one day #that one scene with the bench just >>>>>#oh and oppenheimer was good too ig #asexuality #ace pride #asexual pride #asexual #lgbtqia #aspec #aromantic #aroace #aro pride #aromantism

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krismiss-cos · 1 year

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DPxDC idea thing

Now with AO3 post!

So picture this, the Justice League have just captured the new vigilante called Phantom. So far he has refused to talk to any JL members and seemingly vanished every time they tried to speak to him. After a particularly difficult battle Superman is finally able to put power restricting cuffs on Phantom and bring him to the Watchtower. Phantom has been silent since being subdued and looks like he's being walked to his execution.

Meanwhile, Red Hood has been brought in on an unrelated case and is speaking to a League member when he feels a kind of tugging in his chest. He starts walking in the direction he's being pulled and looks through the one way mirror looking into one of the interrogation rooms. He locks eyes with the green eyed boy and feels fire start burning in his chest as his brain screams protect king help. He's consumed with a feeling almost like the pit rage as he bursts through the door and makes a beeline to Danny. Batman starts to step in front of him but Jason throws him into the wall and undoes Danny's cuffs. Once Danny is free Jason blinks and looks around, feeling unbalanced now that the all consuming need to protect Phantom has subsided.

Danny is completely stunned as he looks at this leather clad mountain of a man that radiates safe protected friend. He's quickly snapped out of his shock as Superman enters the room and starts to grab Jason's shoulder. Danny's protective king instincts kick in as he darts between Supes and Jason, in a voice filled with static and cracking ice he says, "Don't touch my Knight."

#ghost king danny #dpxdc #justice league #danny phantom #batman #jason todd #jason is the new fright knight #please take this idea and RUN with it #please tag me if you write a fic based on this #please excuse any typos #I'm writing this at 3am #how do I tag #i'm new to tumblr #send help #danny and jason being super protective is my fav trope #revnant jason todd #Phantom's Red Knight

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kianely · 5 months

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okok hear me out ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

being needy and riding re6 leon’s thigh and he starts sweetly mocking you for being so pent up and vocal even though he hasn’t even really touched you at all

i’m not usually this horny but :( next time i’ll send some fluff into your askbox

Omg anon I’m hearing you out, you got me thinking about this…just imagine how much muscle his thighs have 😵‍💫 I wrote a little gender neutral drabble on this under the cut I hope that’s okay

Thank you for sending an ask I love interaction AHH

“That’s it,” his murmurs fan against the sensitive skin of your ear, and they turn your brain into mush with each syllable that emits from his lips. “You’re so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a noise complaint.”

Your pajama pants are discarded somewhere on the floor of your shared living room as you rut against him. Leon has been so busy that you couldn’t help but pounce on him when he got some free time, scrambling over to him as soon as he sat down on the couch.

The scent of his cologne and pheromones fills your senses, a combination that makes you press your face against the crook of his neck in an attempt to get more.

And you’re so noisy—grunts and whimpers spilling from you with each roll of your hips against his thigh. The rough fabric of his denim jeans against the flimsier and thinner fabric of your underwear (which are pretty wet with your arousal, dampening up Leon's pants as well) has you rolling your eyes back.

“Don’t even need to lift a damn finger. Love me so much I bet you could come untouched.”

Surely he wouldn’t be that mean, right? Though…you could definitely come untouched. Hell, you gushed at the mere sound of his raspy morning voice; you got all excited whenever you got a peek of his happy trail.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” God, his voice is gravelly. His hand slides up to rest against the arch of your back. “You’re soaking my pants just from dry humping me like a damn dog.”

“Leon—“ you want to protest against those words, you feel a little bit embarrassed (and very turned on) and in turn, you dig your nails into his shoulder blades. He cuts you off with a low rumble of laughter, catching onto your embarrassment and pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Bet you’d grind against my leg if I put you on your knees, hm? Poor baby can’t even go a day without being all over me.” He brings his hand to your jaw, cradles it, and brings you in for a kiss. It drowns out the loudness of your drunken sounding noises. His stubble brushes against your chin, and he gently pats his fingers against your cheek.

“You can be my sweet lap dog and keep me warm all day. What do you think?”

#leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #you know what…maybe i will watch some gameplay for re6 #excuse any typos i didn’t proofread this it just…flowed out ig #is this even a drabble? i get confused with the difference between blurb and drabble #like idek at this point it’s whatever #leon kennedy x reader

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headphonegrl · 1 month

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“Do you feel old?” You ask Jude, your voice hoarse from performing multiple songs back to back on the garish karaoke machine his mum had rented out for the occasion. There are now at least a dozen badly shot videos of you singing in Jude’s camera roll, including a rendition of ‘happy birthday’ sung by you and his brother where half his index finger is covering the lens.

“What’d you mean?” After hours of displaying nothing but rash energy, Jude finally feels himself getting sluggish while trying to endure the unbearable gnawing feeling of pins and needles rising up his legs; a big plush sofa sits untouched on the other side of the living room but you’ve both decided to drunkenly cram yourselves onto the armchair in a mess of tangled limbs.

“Just a silly question.” As you flutter your eyes shut, Jude tries to get a proper look at the glitter eyeshadow you had meticulously applied earlier that evening. In the wake of a large round of tequila shots, some of his friends had insisted on having their own ‘sparkle stuff’ and began queuing at the bathroom door like kids waiting to get their face painted like a tiger at the zoo. “Do you feel any older yet?”

“I’m not sure.” It’s the kind of question he’d once been asked in the primary school playground, with a blue birthday badge pinned proudly onto the fabric of his uniform. Back then it seemed very easy and obvious to answer plainly with a ‘no’, though now he’s finding himself stumped for a reply entirely. “Do you ever feel like that?”

“I think the last age I felt was seventeen.” You say definitively as if you've thought about it at great length before. Jude hadn’t known you at that age, but his home screen for almost a year was a photo your mum had shown him of you pulling a horrific face while blowing out the candles of your seventeenth birthday cake.

“That’s probably the same for me.” Embarrassingly, Jude had once referred to himself as a ‘seventeen-year-old’ during a frenzied post-match interview and then had to sheepishly correct himself by clarifying that he had just turned nineteen. Sometimes he feels like the years are slipping through his fingers like sand and there’s no sufficient way to stop them.

“Then before that it was twelve.” You continue as you do a little cat-like stretch with your free arm which Jude finds incredibly endearing along with everything else you do; he supposes it’s a very common side-effect when it comes to being in love.

“I found being twelve proper boring.” It was something he remembers expressing even at that age. Just as if he had been dropped off somewhere by his childhood and was painstakingly waiting for his teenage years to finally pick him up and take him somewhere exciting. “It’s such an in-between age.”

“That’s true.” The sky in the open window behind you is that awkward shade of grey that appears just before sunrise, like a page when a printer begins to suddenly run out of ink.

“I wish we’d known each other as kids.” Jude feels as though he goes through life with your name humming inside his chest like a second heart and yet this sentence seems so intimate that he can’t even look at you as speaks. Instead, he takes extra care and attention towards staring at the ceiling and inspecting all the sparse helium balloons that have floated up towards it.

“So do I.” Your words come out as a dozy whisper and Jude finds himself smiling up at a star-shaped foil balloon. He’s not twelve or seventeen, but he’s just turned twenty and loves you so much that he doesn’t even care that both of his legs have gone completely numb from sitting with you on this unbearably uncomfortable armchair.

#hiiiii everyone #excuse any typos etc just turned 3 am #headphonegrl comeback era 4 REAL #my writing #football imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fluff #footballer x reader #footballer x you #footballer imagine #footballer fanfic #jude bellingham one shot #footballer one shot

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daenerysies · 3 months

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i think the biggest problem i have with the whole team discourse in f&b + hotd is that it isn’t just about which characters you like more/who you want to sit on the throne at that end; it’s that each side is fighting for completely different ideologies, regardless of one members personal beliefs. grrm could not have made it anymore clear.

team black isn’t just fighting for rhaenyra to be queen, they’re fighting for the monarch’s right to choose an heir, for the oaths they swore years before, for the complete opposite of precedent/tradition: the king’s word is law. team green isn’t just fighting for aegon to be king, they’re fighting for tradition, that no matter the words of a king being law sons will always come before daughters, that oaths are fickle and don’t matter. each side is in some way fighting back against what’s already been established for the kingdom, but the end goal is completely different.

we’re not given as much insight into why most of the houses initially sided with rhaenyra, but we do have an inkling into how the green council felt and acted, however. jaehaerys choosing baelon over rhaenys (against andal tradition, the king can choose his heir) is one point. the great council of 101 is another. alicent, despite being the leader of the council, is removed from the equation and shoved off to the side when it comes to swearing oaths of loyalty between the members on account of her womanhood. daemon being a second coming of ‘maegor’ (despite what we know would be a better suited title for aemond, but i digress) is also used. when discussing who would side with them the vale is automatically disqualified from the list, due to them presently being ruled by a woman, jeyne arryn. she doesn’t choose to fight for rhaenyra for the sole reason of them being kin, but because her own right to rule can and will be put into question if aegon steps over rhaenyra. because she is a woman. she does so in spite of her dislike for daemon (and his supposed maegor-ness) too.

even if one were to look at each characters personal feelings about the succession the fact of the matter is that rhaenyra is usurped because she is a woman. it’s stated almost blatantly multiple times before and during the war. the greens use scapegoats and smokescreens in attempts justify it (her ‘bastards’ chief among them, but legally her sons live and die as the trueborn children between her and laenor, with the reminder that septon eustace refutes this claim to begin with). even when she is killed grrm has her breast pricked to arouse a dragon that doesn’t want to kill her (and why is that?). aegon ‘wins’ against her and is king, but then why is jaehaera, as his last living remaining child not named his heir? why is aegon iii put ahead of her, despite being the enemies son? these are rhetorical questions. aegon had no plans to ever consider her his heir, he made it clear with how excited he was to marry cassandra baratheon and produce more ‘strong’ sons. his dragon (who had fought and bled for him the entire war) wasn’t mourned properly, he couldn’t wait to hatch a ‘new dragon, prouder and fiercer than the last.’ yet he wasn’t even capable of doing that in the six months before he too was killed.

it’s also safe to mention that grrm created an entire separate lore story, one that would seem to have no bearing on the original story unless you’re capable of understanding symbolism. the amethyst empress is usurped by her younger brother the bloodstone emperor, and the first long night ensues from this decision. rhaenyra (amethyst = arryn blue + targaryen red) is usurped by her younger brother aegon ii (bloodstone = hightower green + targaryen red) and the dying of the dragons, the very creatures needed to stop the next long night, are eradicated, along with the magic needed to hatch them and keep them alive (until). the war is the blacks (power, death, grief, rebellion, restraint) versus the greens (ambition, greed, jealousy, anger, wealth). the amethyst empress is important to the main story in the same way that rhaenyra is important, that snubbing the women (an integral aspect to the power the targaryens held) of house targaryen can lead only to disaster. daenerys is the key, the one to break the cycle and fix the wrongdoings caused by her ancestors obsession with power. mother of dragons, mhysa, breaker of chains, slayer of lies, daughter of death, the dragon queen, azor ahai come again, the prince that was promised will bring the dawn.

you can argue for technicalities sake all day, but there is a meaning to this story beyond the scope of rightful heirs. and it shouldn’t be shoved off to the side just so you can praise your favorites and hate those who go against them. it makes for a poor consuming of the actual story. fire and blood was created as a history book to expand on daenerys as a character. her family, what and where she’s come from, and how she relates to them. she’s the antithesis to every targaryen that’s come before her, a hero in her own right. the only targaryen’s we can say are radically important to dany’s story are the conquerors (aegon the conqueror with teats) and rhaenyra (the amethyst empress). i don’t know, just some food for thought.

#asoiaf #fire and blood #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #pro rhaenyra #daenerys targaryen #pro daenerys #team black #anti team green #anti aegon ii targaryen #the amethyst empress #the bloodstone emperor #the amethyst empress 🤝 rhaenyra 🤝 daenerys #i’m sick and incredibly tired so please excuse any typos in my ramblings lol

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starrystevie · 7 months

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18+ | modern office steddie au | cw: public sex, undernegotiated kinks, unsafe sex | crossposted to ao3 here

eddie doesn't do it often. okay, maybe that's a stretch. frequently might be a better word for it, more accurate. but he wouldn't say he does it everyday or anything. it's just a little break from the day, an escape from the monotony of corporate america.

he's only been in this new tech support job for a few months but he's already comfortable enough that working on his next novel at his desk doesn't give him anxiety anymore. he isn't afraid someone is looking over his shoulder all the time like he did when he first started with the company.

the thing is, eddie's good at tech. he's good at finding the problems, finding even better solutions. half the time all he's doing is updating and restarting people's equipment that hasn't been refreshed in years. so he finds himself with enough free time at his desk to work on the second installment of his fantasy novel when the problems seem to be at a low.

as he waits for his laptop to boot up, eddie cracks his knuckles and grabs his phone to send a text to his editor that may or may not also happen to be his best friend so he could cut back on over exuberant editing fees. he doesn't read the message over, just fires out a text to nancy quickly before pocketing his phone.

he only realizes the typo once he gets a laughing emoji in return and cackles at what he actually sent.

"getting ready to write some smut on the cock!!!!!"

it doesn't take long to send a winky face before correcting himself to say " on the clock obviously", before pocketing his phone and opening the document where his novel is. just as eddie is about to start typing, a voice behind him makes him jump out of his skin.

"what was so funny?" steve asks, arm propped on the top of his flimsy cubicle wall, legs crossed over one another, smirk on his face.

eddie forces himself not to swoon. he takes in the way his white button up stretches across his chest, dress pants oh so snug over his thighs, hair pushed back in the way that only steve harrington could pull off. he may have only been at the office for a few months, but ever since he first saw him, steve very quickly became the only thing eddie could think about.

"i'm sure you wouldn't find it funny," he starts, tilting his laptop screen halfway shut so steve can't catch him doing his other job, his favorite job, while at work.

steve smirks again, his cheek lifting enough to crinkle his eye. "try me, munson."

with a dramatic push, eddie rolls in his wheely chair and stands up so he can keep his voice low. "i sent my editor a dirty text on accident."

if steve's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"editor, hmm? for what?" his voice is as low as eddie's and it makes the cubicle feel even smaller than it is. like everything in the world has zeroed in on their whispers to each other.

"i might be writing a book. well, technically i've already written a book. this is just the sequel."

steve's eyes flick from eddie to his laptop and then back once more. "is it anything i'd know?"

he cackles again, picturing steve reading his smutty fantasy novel, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to make any sense out of the haphazard world map eddie drew for the back page. but then again, he could easily picture steve in the world he made. he'd be a prince- no, scratch that, an elven prince- just like the one he's writing about in this one.

"i do read, you know. i'm not entirely up to date with everything but i do like books." steve says it like he's almost hurt and it makes eddie look back up at him, mellowing out his wide grin into a softer smile.

"oh, i wasn't doubting that. i just doubt you read elf porn in your free time."

whatever hurt was lacing through steve's face is gone, replaced with wide eyes and eyebrows to his hairline and a bright smile pulling at his cheeks.

"yeah," he says a little breathless, "yeah, definitely not the first thing i'd reach for."

eddie gives him a told-you-so head nod and brings a hand up to run through his hair, tracking steve's eyes as he follows the motion for a moment. having his eyes on him rushes through eddie like a wave crashing and he's halfway tempted to do it again if he didn't think it would look forced.

"well you probably don't know mine then."

as he turns to go back to his chair, he hears steve cough to get his attention back, arms crossed over his chest to make his shirt pull taut over his beautiful, gorgeous, annoyingly perfect biceps. "so what was the dirty text?"

"well, it was actually a typo," eddie starts, cocking his head to the side with a smirk as he pulls out his phone, "so an unintentional dirty text. but still funny, none the less. and i don't think i can say it out loud without getting hr called on my ass so-"

he holds up his phone so steve can see the brief conversation between him and nancy, watches his eyebrows shoot back up to his hairline, watches as his mouth drops open for a millisecond before giving eddie another goddamn smirk. steve leans back, drops his arms to put a hand on his hip, and looks eddie less than subtly up and down.

"so... do you want to?"

eddie can feel the moment his heart stutters in his chest. a combination of steve's general... steveness plus the implication of what the text said and his mind travels to a dirty, dirty, not meant for work place until he pieces it somewhat together and asks-

"...are you asking if i'm gay?"

steve huffs out a laugh and takes a step further into eddie's cubicle. there already isn't much room and with him coming in the tiniest bit closer, their toes are almost touching.

"sure," he says like it's the easiest thing to say on a thursday afternoon. "it can be a two-part question if you want."

a few things run through eddie's head all at the same time:

steve's close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off of the arm he now has resting on his desk, and he's really about to come out to a coworker which he normally leaves for at least 6 months into a new job, and that he thinks he's going to pass out if steve is actually asking what he thinks he's asking.

do you want to write smut while you're on my cock?

he doesn't know where he finds the courage, honestly. call it a slow thursday, call it a little extra motivation for his novel. eddie scoots closer and throws caution to the wind.

"then yes to both."

he's never seen steve's office. he's been to the top floors before when some higher up needed him to install a web browser on his new desktop so he has kind of an idea of what the private offices look like.

eddie didn't expect the first time that he got to see steve's office would be spread out, bent over his desk with his novel pulled up on his laptop while steve runs his hands over his ass.

"here's how this is going to work," steve whispers close to his ear while he lays against his back, snaking a hand up to undo the knot of eddie's messy tie, popping open a button on his dress shirt in the process. "you stop writing, i stop fucking you."

with a hum, eddie presses his hips back, up on his tiptoes with his off brand dress shoes pinching his feet tightly. "i think i can manage that."

"i'm not finished," he bites gently at eddie's ear lobe, returning his hands to palm over his ass cheeks. "everything i do to you, and i mean everything, needs to be written down. turn me into a character or something, i don't care, but i expect you to be thorough."

he doesn't mean to moan at the instructions, really he doesn't, but it's so easy to picture steve morphing into a character in his world. his mind races trying to figure out how exactly to write him into the scene that had already started, but with a snap of his fingers as the idea clicks, he writes out a quick line and looks at steve over his shoulder for approval.

"who's sylvar?" steve asks, pronunciation clunky on his tongue.

"sylvar is an elven prince, might as well make you him. besides, you both have an s name."

steve chuckles, his breath ruffling eddie's hair. "okay, fair. prince, huh?"

he doesn't have to look over his shoulder again to know that steve's smirking so he rolls his eyes and finishes the sentence, only breaking away to gasp as steve brings his hand between his thighs to spread them further apart.

"i'm gonna take a wild guess and say that elidyr is supposed to be you?"

eddie nods and pulls his tie off the rest of the way. "let's see, he's one of the prince's newest attendants, known for being a bit out of control, gets chastised for staring at the prince's ass in his khakis too much-"

"you're making that one up, huh?"

he tosses his tie to the side and brings a hand up to tangle in steve's hair, pulling his lips down to his neck and waiting for him to get the hint and start kissing. "steve, i'm making all of it up. that's the way writing a book goes."

"is that so?" he murmurs playfully against his neck, teeth pressing against the skin as he smiles, hands yanking on his hips to get eddie flush against his cock. "...i don't see you writing."

eddie huffs and shakes his head before writing out quickly how sylvar grabbed elidyr by the hips roughly to show him how excited he was. steve takes the typing as the go ahead and quickly undoes both of their pants before running his hands up eddie's now bare thighs.

he didn't really have any idea of how well he'd be able to hold out to steve's ministrations while having to write them out at the same time, but any confidence he had in himself leaves when steve's palm cups his cock through his briefs. eddie cants his hips forward and brings his hand back up to tangle once more in steve's hair.

and just like that, the touch is gone.

"oh, come on!" eddie whines and brings his hands back to the keyboard, typing in random filler words until suddenly he has no underwear and hands pulling his ass cheeks apart.

"gonna fucking take you apart... shit," steve whispers and eddie doesn't think he was supposed to hear it, but he writes it into the scene anyway.

there's a cool dribble of what must be lube on his hole and he fights against the shiver it sends up his spine. "you have lube in your office?"

"no, i have lube in my briefcase. big difference."

eddie doesn't really see how to the two are different, but he laughs to appease steve before getting cut short as a finger starts to enter him. he must whine, must jerk or do something wrong because it's leaving almost as soon as it had arrived.

"steve, i swear to god," eddie groans, head dropping down as he types without looking. poor nancy is going to have a hell of time reading and editing over this draft.

they both sigh when the finger presses into him once more and steve weaves his other hand into eddie's hair to pull him up and look at his screen. "there you go, just keep typing. write about how good it feels."

and shit. that's hotter than he expected it to be.

it goes well for all of a few minutes, eddie typing and steve reading over his shoulder, scissoring his fingers to get him nice and wet and open. they both somehow manage to keep their composure, filthy words being muttered out loud that then end up on the screen.

it's after steve gets him cock in him that it all goes down hill.

"oh fuck-" eddie moans as his leg gets hoisted up for a better angle. steve's grip on his hip is brutal, bound to be leaving bruises, as he pulls eddie back to meet him in the middle.

his chest is rubbing against the pleather desk cover, nipples catching on just the right side of painful when steve pushes his shirt up and out of the way. his dick is flopping against his thigh with every thrust, the lack of friction driving him insane.

he swears he only takes his hands away from the laptop for a second but then steve's pulling out quickly, dropping his leg and getting eddie off balance. he whines like he's throwing a temper tantrum before bringing his fingers back up to type more nonsense, gasping when steve slides back in like no time has passed.

"read it," he huffs next to his ear, "tell me how perfect you make fucking me sound."

"oh my god," eddie croaks, eyes rolling back as steve lets go of his hip once more to pull his head upright. "sylvar fucks wi-without abandon, hitting every right spot possible inside elidyr, the heat of his h-heavy cock punishing him making him mad with lust."

"good, yeah that's good. like when i fuck you hard?" steve grunts out before pistoning his hips even faster, eddie's moans bouncing off the bare office walls. "tell me more, keep going baby."

"the grip he uses to hold onto elidyr's hair is the only thing keeping him upright. this is all he could want, tending to the prince's every desire, being whatever the prince wants him to be." eddie expects it when the fingers in his hair curl even tighter, his back bowing against the desk with the pressure, but he still keens loudly at the pull.

steve chuckles roughly, like he's barely holding on himself, hips stuttering before evening out. "is that what you want?"

"wha-" eddie murmurs, not trusting his voice much more than that, his brain turning into mush. "is what what i want?"

"want to tend to my desires, want to be for me to use however i please?"

and the thing is, realistically, eddie knows this whole thing is weird, blending his two worlds together in a way he's never done before, but it doesn't stop him from forgoing the rules and bringing a hand down to work over his cock. "god, don't stop. please, please, please..."

steve must be tired of the game, too, because he doesn't even attempt to quit what they're doing to punish eddie as he stops writing. he barely has time to appreciate that the game is finally over because the hand in his hair slides around to rest gently around eddie's throat, pulling him up so his back is to steve's chest, every thrust punching out another gasping breath.

"answer the question," he says, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips. "gonna let me use you how i want?"

eddie has died and gone to heaven and the cause of death is a mixture of steve's tongue, hands, and cock. his mind wanders to what else they could do together, what else he'd let steve do, what else he wants steve to do. he sends up a quick thank you to whoever is listening that he saw the job posting for this company so he could be here in this moment with a possible sex god in his midst.

the hand that he had braced on the desk for support makes its way up to cover steve's on his throat, a barely there pressure combined with his quick fingers on his cock that sends him over the edge.

he breathes out a "yes" as he shoots come across the stop of steve's desk and see stars dancing in his eyes. steve fucks him through it, whispers filth of what he wants to do to eddie right into his ear, and when he comes back to himself, he digs his nails in the top of steve's hand.

"want it, want you, however you want me-" he chokes out.

and when steve finally comes inside of him, eddie makes sure he bends back down with his cock still pounding into him to write some line about how nice elidyr thinks it feels to filled up from someone who probably shouldn't be giving him the time of day. he tries not to find parallels as steve kisses up the back of his neck as he rocks his hips for the final time.

eddie's bare ass is in a mixture of their come as they maneuver him around to let him sit up and wrap his legs around steve's hips, pulling their spent cocks together while they lazily make out. steve's hands dance softly over his bare thighs, eddie threads his fingers through steve's hair.

"how does it end?" steve whispers against his lips.

"i don't know yet," eddie says truthfully, his mind wandering as kisses start to trail down his jawline. "how do you want it to end?"

"i don't suppose they have bars in this elf world, do they? one where they can go on an actual date to before going back to the palace or whatever to ravage each other?"

eddie grins, tipping his head back to catch steve's lips one more time in a slow kiss. "i can arrange for them to go to the tavern. i think they'd both like that."

the next morning, slightly hungover and draped over each other in steve's way too large bed, eddie ignores a text from nancy asking why the names change halfway through the draft and wondering who the fuck steve is. eddie silences his phone and goes back to sleep, so glad that he didn't double check his first message yesterday for typos.

#HI this got long so i will be posting it to ao3 #shoutout to mickala and alice for turning me into this monster #pls excuse any and all typos because i wrote this at work and just want to go home #steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie smut #modern steddie #steddie au

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