#Summer Escapes: The Maine Chance

[pinchofhoney]

be careful what you wish for

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: platonic relationship, quite angst-ish, text in italics is a flashback

summary: Turning in a district boy to the authorities felt like the right thing to do for Coriolanus. But what if, in doing so, he betrayed you as well?

a/n: absolutely no one asked for it, but i'll deliver it to you anyway<33 i'd say have fun but i'm not sure i'd be appropriate here

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The moment Sejanus shared Billy Taup's escape plan with you, there wasn't much hesitation on your part. It's not that you acted without thinking; it's just that you didn't need much time to decide.

The summer was scorching, feeling like an unending oven. The sun never let up, and even when you hoped for cooler nights, the heat lingered. You've gotten used to the coal dust that's practically become your second skin in District 12, but what truly got to you wasn't the clinging dirt. It was the musty scent of men's sweat, a scent that clung to the air, heavy with the hard work that defined your daily life.

Being one of the few female Peacekeepers among a crowd of men wasn't your ideal situation. Many other girls had come and gone, unable to stand the sacrifices the job demanded, but you stood your ground, determined to prove yourself in this role, even if serving in this particular district wasn't your dream come true.

At least until a certain point.

When you first arrived in District 12, your main goal was to pass your officer's exam as quickly as possible and secure a transfer elsewhere. But when young Plinth kindled the idea of a life beyond authority and rules, the seed of belief in freedom took root within you. The very thought of it resonated in your mind, sounding truly incredible, and you couldn't wait to leave the filthy district behind, escaping through a gap in the wire mesh fence.

But, of course, life wouldn't be too easy if everything just went as planned, right?

One moment, you were getting ready with Sejanus and the other rebels, gathering the basics for your escape north to the supposedly destroyed District 13. The next, you found yourself standing behind one of the empty houses on the Seam with Coriolanus. He held onto your shoulders, telling you urgently that you had to leave the District as soon as possible.

“What?” was the first word that slipped from your lips, your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at your friend. “Isn't that exactly what we're working on?” you added, slightly amused, pushing Coriolanus' hands off your shoulders.

Shaking your head, you were about to update him on your progress when he caught your forearm again. “I think you misunderstood me, Y/N,” he said, his face dead serious. “You need to get out of here now,” he continued, and seeing your raised eyebrow, he almost gritted the last word through his teeth.

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you asked, breaking the silence after staring at him for a while, tired of him speaking in riddles.

Now Coriolanus was the one staying silent, his cool eyes fixed on you. You couldn't decipher his expressions; it felt like he was betraying a hundred feelings at once and, at the same time, nothing at all.

“I… um, there's…” the blond man started, stumbling over his words, unsure how to share the information he needed to tell you. “There's a chance that the talk Sejanus and I had, which you joined not long ago, about your escape plan, might have been fully recorded by one of the jabberjays.”

You seemed not to grasp the gravity of Coriolanus' words, so you stared at him, searching for any hint in his eyes that he might be joking.

“Okay, so what?” you eventually asked, once again furrowing your brows, this time with a bit less intensity.When a twig snapped around the building's corner, you quickly turned, thinking it might be someone eavesdropping, but finding only a small hedgehog, you shifted your attention back to the boy in the bluish uniform.

“So what?” Coriolanus repeated your question, unable to believe your difficulty in connecting the dots. “Y/N, these birds are headed to the Capitol. To the lab of the woman who’s the Head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games. And do you know what the Capitol authorities do to rebels?” he asked the question, not waiting for your response. “They hang them on the hanging tree, Y/N.”

You stared at Coriolanus, steadying yourself with a hand against the wooden building. With every word he spoke, you felt the color drain from your face.

“How… How did this happen?” you asked, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Coriolanus happily took care of the mockingjays, moving their cages, tagging them, and passing them along. As Bug left with the fiftieth cage, Sejanus burst into the room, full of excitement. He shared the good news about the upcoming package from his mother with his friends, watching Bug leave with a smile before turning to Coriolanus, who had just finished dealing with the bird marked as number 1.

The bird chirped in its cage, mimicking the last mockingbird, but once Bug was gone, Sejanus' cheerful expression faded, replaced by a troubled look. He glanced around the hangar to ensure they were alone before speaking in a quiet voice.

“Listen, we've only got a few minutes. I know you might not like what I'm about to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”

This was the moment, the confession.

Now was the time for the pieces to be explained, especially about the alliance with rebels and money that he found in Sejanus' belongings. Once Coriolanus heard it, he'd be as good as one of them, a traitor to the Capitol.

Panic, running, or trying to silence Sejanus could be expected, but Coriolanus did none of these things. Instead, his hands moved instinctively. His left hand adjusted the cover of the jabberjay cage, while his right, hidden from Sejanus's view by his body, reached for a remote on the counter. Coriolanus pressed RECORD, and the jabberjay fell silent.

Turning his back to the cage, Coriolanus leaned on the table with his hands, waiting.

In the middle of Sejanus' explanation, you dashed into the hangar like a hurricane itself.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, both happy and a bit annoyed to find young Plinth. “Why didn't you wait for me? I said I wanted to go to Coryo with you,” you added, crossing your arms on your chest as you closed the gap between the boys and yourself.

It seemed that Coriolanus, noticing you in the hangar, tensed up a bit. He glanced briefly at the cage with the bird recording the conversation on the table, but neither of you or Sejanus noticed, and together, you continued explaining your plan to him.

During your report, where you and Sejanus competed over who could give Coriolanus more details, he lowered his head and rubbed his brow with his fingertips. It looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts, unsure how long he could stay silent without seeming suspicious.

But Sejanus rushed on, “I couldn't leave without telling you. You've been like a brother to me. I'll never forget what you did for me in the arena. I'll find a way to let Ma know what happened to me. And my father, too. I'll let him know the Plinth name lives on, even if it's in obscurity.”

The mention of the Plinth name was enough.

Coriolanus's left hand found the remote, and he pressed the NEUTRAL button with his thumb. The jabberjay resumed its earlier song.

Something caught Coriolanus's attention. “Here comes Bug.”

“Here comes Bug,” the bird echoed in his voice.

“Hush, you silly thing,” he scolded the bird, secretly pleased it had returned to its normal pattern. Nothing to alert both of you. He quickly covered the cage with a cloth and marked it with J1.

“I swear, I have no idea,” Coriolanus lied, wearing a worried expression. “While rearranging the cages, one of them must have snagged the remote control.”

You lightly bit your lower lip, eyeing your friend. Without any reason to doubt him, you finally let out a shaky breath.

Gazing up at the sky, you counted to three in your mind to steady your nerves. Then, you looked back at Coriolanus.

“Does Sejanus know?”

“Of course, I told him first,” he lied again, his gaze fixed beyond your shoulders without losing the concerned look on his face.

“God, what are we going to do now?” nerves took over every cell in your body as you asked another question. You leaned against the wooden building, slowly lowering yourself until you were sitting on the ground.

You lifted your head to meet Coriolanus's eyes, and he crouched in front of you, placing his hand on one of your knees.

“Hey, don't stress. You're heading back to the base now. Pack what you need, and tonight, you'll slip out of the district just like you planned with the rebels. You'll meet Sejanus at the lake, alright?” he spoke with a calmness, almost like talking to a kid, trying to reassure you.

Even though Coriolanus despised rebels — those who went against the Capitol's rules — he didn't want you to suffer the consequences that would surely befall Sejanus. He had nothing against you; in fact, he genuinely liked you. Your innocence about a better life beyond the Capitol's control wasn't his concern because you hadn't caused him any trouble, unlike young Plinth who had stirred up problems more than once.

“But won't it be suspicious if I suddenly vanish? They'll be searching for me, Coryo. They'll find me and punish me,” you said, placing your hand on his.

“I told you not to worry, remember?” Coriolanus replied, a bit sharper but still maintaining his reassuring tone. “I'll figure something out. No one's going to harm you.”

“But Coryo, you-” you began, but he quickly cut you off.

“Enough, Y/N,” Coriolanus said firmly, standing up from his crouch. “Get up. We're heading back to base,” he reached out a hand to you, which you took after a moment's hesitation. He helped you stand, silently conveying to act naturally before stepping out from behind the building.

You had no choice but to go along with Coriolanus' questionable plan, clinging to the hope that he knew what he was doing.

Little did you grasp the reality—that he was the cunning architect behind the recorded conversation. Sejanus wouldn't show up at the lake beyond District 12's boundaries. Instead, his fate would take a dark turn as he dangled lifeless from a tree in a matter of days.

#president snow #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games headcanon #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes headcanon #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow headcanon #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow scenario #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games headcanon #hunger games x reader #ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #ballad of songbirds and snakes headcanon #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #x reader #x y/n #x you #angst #not proofread

[eddiernunson]

The Taste of You | Modern Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem Reader | 18 +

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: after attending a successful and rather sweaty concert from Corroded Coffin, you send the front man a rather thirsty DM on his instagram. You wake up to his response...and an offer to go backstage to follow through.

Warnings: lowkey unrealistic, alcohol, oral (f + m receiving), marking, begging (both), no protection, cream pie, use of aftercare

MINORS DNI

Based on my friend @bebe07011 going to a concert and DM'ing one of the band members (who looks a lot like Eddie) about how much she was enthralled by his performance and him responding back. This one's for you <3

Thank you so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you again for editing, you're my lifesaver.

-

You lean on the counter at work, distracted by your Instagram feed. Well, not distracted, per se. There are several more productive things you could be doing, but with your manager out on an errand and no customers to serve, there isn’t really anything stopping you. A post from Corroded Coffin comes up, a few images from their latest stop on tour. You can hardly prevent an excited squeal from escaping your lips, scrolling through their images, and rereading the end of the post over and over. ‘See you next, Indiana!’

You’ve been looking forward to this since buying tickets at the announcement of their tour nearly four months ago. It’s been a summer of anticipation; each post a countdown to your own concert date.

You discovered Corroded Coffin through suggestions from Spotify, the algorithm having picked up on your tastes in rock music and suggested a more modern band. Their music is good, you discovered. Their first album Freaks in the Streets came out about two years ago, and it’s raw in its talent but their latest album, Hell’s on Fire (And So Are You) shot them into stardom. You had it on repeat for months, and their lead guitarist being hot as he was had nothing to do with your fixation.

Okay, discovering Eddie Munson, (said lead guitarist) the main lyricist on the album, had everything to do with your fixation. Every late-night TV host offered a slot for them to play their music and Eddie’s charisma as he cheekily answers questions about his off-putting lyrics drove you into over-excitement mode. You can still hardly believe you're going to be able to watch his sweaty chest perform live.

Your concert date is tomorrow, and you have everything set up. You booked it off from work, got the perfect outfit, and the tickets are waiting on your apple wallet. You set your phone down, locking it. As always, the phone lights up when it faces up and you catch the image of the glistening sweat on Eddie’s chest during a performance from a tweet that went viral a few weeks ago, a photo you immediately saved for your phone. God, he’s mouthwatering. There were several hundred women in the retweets praising him as well, so, of course, there’s no chance in hell.

But it’s nice to fantasize.

-

You sit comfortably in the level 100 seats, dressed in a somewhat alternative outfit, high waisted black shorts with a fringe hanging off them, a chain on your belt loops, and a ripped crop top with the bands logo you found in an urban clothing store. You hold a beer in one hand and your phone in the other, recording the opening act as they sing to an audience that is only half paying attention.

Luckily, you know some of their songs on their short 8-song setlist, half-heartedly singing along but saving your voice for the main act. Though, you know your heart isn’t in it when you notice the placement of the jewels you glued to your temple is awkward. When you squint your eyes in a certain way they seem to threaten to fall off. Whatever, they were dollar store jewels, anyway.

The band finishes their less than overwhelming act, thanking the audience, and teasing them with the fact that the main act is backstage and apparently excited to put a show on for their home state. Somehow, it keeps escaping you that you happen to live about 60 miles away from where Eddie Munson grew up, Hawkins, Indiana. That place certainly had a reputation for itself.

You make small talk with your best friend, who is as excited as ever, if anything, to see your face when you melt to the floor. Natalie isn’t into their music like you are, but she can admit that their music is objectively good. Free concert and the power to tease you? Natalie is SO in. “What outfit you think he’s gonna wear tonight?” You shrug, sipping some wheat water. You don’t like beer, but the venue’s options when it comes to alcohol are…limited to say the least. Natalie leans in to you. “You think he’s gonna wear a shirt this time?”

You elbow her, your cheeks heating up. Some places he wears a shirt, and it’s a day of tragedy. Some places he comes out with his chest already bare, and it’s pure heaven. Although, he is known to rip a shirt off occasionally, and you have far too many videos of that saved on your phone. “I don’t know. We’ll find out when he comes out.”

You’re in the middle of a conversation about the politics of the latest show you’re watching together and the lights go down. An electric guitar is heard but out of sight. Subconsciously, you grab your friend’s forearm as your eyes widen in anticipation, your ass literally hovering on your chair as you’re at the edge of your seat. You hear her laugh, but you can’t focus as the lights on stage dramatically light up two at a time, and out of nowhere you can see the four band members, Eddie second to the left. Oh god, he’s wearing an open jacket with a metal chain. Holy shit.

You’re on your feet and screaming lyrics before you even know it.

The night goes by in a blur, and none of the videos you’ve seen online do Corroded Coffin any justice. Their online stage presence is unstoppable. And while Eddie was a large part of the crowd draw in, you watch as he interacts with each band member, using their energy to amplify his own. He really couldn’t do this without them, which is why he’s so insistent in every interview he’s given. Halfway through the show, Eddie does a quick run backstage, claiming his jacket was ‘too fucking hot’ and when he comes out in a fishnet shirt, the crowd goes absolutely nuts.

You sit in the back of a cab, buzzed and rewatching the multiple videos you’ve taken repeatedly, smiling giddily to yourself. “That was such a good show.” You mumble to yourself, sipping from the drink you promised to the cab driver you wouldn’t spill from. You’re so drunk you barely even notice the taste of the beer anymore.

The cab driver pulls up to the hotel and you drunkenly climb out, handing him four 20-dollar bills on the way, making sure he’s tipped well for having to put up with your drunk ass. He doesn’t seem to mind too much, but then again, you’re too busy rewatching your thirst caught in 4K to even notice. God damn, the video really doesn’t put his glistening chest any justice. It was even better in person. If you could just lick up his chest, you knew every problem in your life would be solved.

Your best friend laughs behind you, escorting you to the hotel room. As the hotel room door opens you just want to climb into bed and scroll through your phone, but Natalie makes you wipe off your make up and get dressed into some pajamas. You check your Instagram, Corroded Coffin’s post from tonight at the top of the feed. There were some high-quality shots of him in his fishnet shirt that you immediately save, going over to Eddie Munson’s personal Instagram from where he’s tagged in the post.

God, he must get hundreds of DMs in a day. One raindrop doesn’t affect the ocean. I wanna lick the sweat off your chest so fucking bad just gimme a chance. Your thumb hovers over the send button, but you’ve sent several messages to celebrities before, and they never respond. So, you hit send, and you’re asleep within minutes, your lamp still lit next to you as the water from the shower in the bathroom less than ten feet away from you lulls you into a deep sleep.

-

Your 10AM alarm rings, yanking you out of a deep sleep.  If you could, you’d spend the next ten hours sleeping to shake off the hangover, but you've gotta get up to have time to pack up and get changed before check out. You can shower tonight at home. As you sit up on your bed, dismissing the alarm, the headache kicks in, making you groan. Oh, fuck, are you hungover.

You check your phone quickly, and as you scroll down your notifications, you triple check a notification just to make sure you’re reading it right. At first, you’re confused. Why would he be messaging you? Your eyes widen as you promptly yeet your phone to your friend's bed when you remember what the fuck you sent to him last night. You curl in on yourself with your knees up against your chest and your hands over your mouth in disbelief.

Natalie comes out of the bathroom after hearing your phone bounce off the bed and land on the floor. “Whoa,” Natalie breathes, seeing your stunned stature. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, shellshocked.

“Okay, can you at least tell me what happened? You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

“I sent a really, really thirsty message to Eddie Munson last night and I saw a notification saying he responded.” You admit, no higher than a whisper.

“What?!” Natalie nearly shouts, a bit loud in the quiet morning of the small hotel. “Well then open it and read it! What did he say?”

“I’m scared too look!” You admit, grabbing a pillow and holding it close to your chest.

Natalie grabs your pillow and tosses it to the side, her wet blonde hair shining prettily in the morning sun. “Get up, you big baby! Open the goddamn message!”

Fuck, Natalie’s right. Doesn’t mean you liked it. You bend to pick your phone up, sitting next to her on the bed as you open your Instagram notification. Fuck, he responded only fifteen minutes after your message. “Oh you sent him a very thirsty message.”

“Look what the fuck he wrote back.” You whisper, eyes wide as your heart pounds out of your chest.

apricothamster147: I wanna lick the sweat off your chest so fucking bad just gimme a chance.

eddiemunson: Well, damn baby, are you still in town for tonight’s show? Come backstage and we’ll see about making that happen. (Send me ur email for tix)

“Holy shit.” Natalie mutters out loud, her eyes bugging to his response as well. “Well? Are you gonna accept?”

You chortle, holding your hand out to her comically. “Do you have enough money for another night?”

Natalie shrugs. “I have my dad’s credit card.”

“Are you allowed to use it?”

“Only when I need it.”

“Shit.”

“Honestly, girl, you need it. Go ahead, send him your email, I’ll get us another night.”

Your thumbs move fast, hoping his offer wasn’t due to a lack of sobriety or a glitch in the Matrix. If you’re still accepting my offer, my email is [email protected]. You add a heart emoji just to be safe and send off a message to him.

Your best friend is in the middle of a phone call with her father to get him to call the front desk. They would only accept the credit card if they could speak to him. “Thank you!” Natalie hangs the phone up, looking at you. “Hotel is taken care of!”

You’re lying on your bed at this point, still in your pajamas with your palms stacked on your forehead. “What the fuck am I even gonna wear?”

“You brought multiple outfits, right?” Natalie asks you, sitting on her bed and laying down now that she no longer has to get ready to leave.

“Yeah, I brought some back-ups.” You sit up quickly, eyes wide. “I need your expertise in styling it, though. I have to look hot.”  

Natalie sits up as well, serious as she can be. “Oh sweetheart, he won’t know what hit him.”

-

An hour into her crusade, styling your hair, your phone lights up in a notification. Your phone is closer to her, so you ask her to check it, Natalie knows your passcode, anyway. You know what it is immediately based on the expression you see on her face in the mirror. “Did he respond?”

“Yes!” Natalie answers, placing the hot tool down and putting the freed hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god, gimme that!” You respond, too impatient to wait for her to calm down.

eddiemunson: See you tonight (with a winky emoji)

“Oh my fucking god.” You let out, and suddenly it occurs to you that you’re seeing him in concert again. There’s even a slight possibility of you meeting him, however slim that he may remember to even do it.

A notification from your gmail rings, and you see ticketmaster. You hit it hard, seeing First Name, ‘Unknown’ Last Name, ‘Stranger’ has gifted you two VIP Floor Tickets with Back Stage passes, apparently just scanning the barcode will get you backstage. No. It wasn’t…no. This isn’t real. You stared off into the distance, eyes up from your phone. This doesn’t happen…

“Babe!”

You’re snapped out of it, realizing you zoned out in disbelief. “I’m just…a little in shock.”

Natalie smirks at you, tilting your chin on her fingertips gracefully. “Well now we know it’s fucking real, so let’s party hard, babe!”

Your eyes roll at her antics, but you love them. “Thanks for asking your dad.”

“Bitch, what’s a rich daddy good for if not for my friends?” Natalie laughs, starting to use the iron on your hair again.

Your makeup is done, rhinestones on the inner corners of your eyes, and you're wearing fishnet tights under a jean skirt and an oversized Corroded Coffin band tee. You usually used it as a sleep shirt, but Natalie insists it would work its magic.

Butterflies invade your stomach as soon as your black boots hit the pavement outside the hotel, the sunset cascading across the sky in a beautiful haze of orange and pink. As your thighs feel uncomfortable against the fabric of the cab, you hope your insides will feel as nice as the outside looks right now.

You pay your cab, all on the card, and get out, your stomach in knots. Well, it's now or never. Hesitantly, you hold your phone out for your ticket scanner on the main floor and she approves, giving you the thumbs up. “Wait.” the ticket scanner holds her hands out when she notices the big red letters, BACKSTAGE PASSES. You think you’re in trouble when you’re both handed the Backstage Pass Lanyards, decorated with the Corroded Coffin logo.

This is where you start to believe that you might’ve died last night with alcohol poisoning because there’s no way in Gods’ Green Earth is this real.

You both thank the attendant and walk to your seats, front and center, third row back. You could see the scratches on the sticker on the speakers from the inspector in the factory. Damn, were you close. “We’re going to go deaf.” Natalie comments, a half smile on your face. “Need a drink?”

“Please.” You answer, eyes wide. Natalie laughs and gets up to walk towards the bar, which is much less crowded around in the VIP section of the floor. Fucking wild.

You hold your phone and sing along to some more of the opening act's songs tonight, now gaining some familiarity with it. They’re great musicians, but they’re just not on Corroded Coffin’s level yet. They definitely have the potential to get there.

Their set list ends, and you notice that the lead singer is close enough for you to see the beads of sweat on his forehead.

Oh god, you’re going to die.

Natalie tries to keep you entertained by chatting about anything she can, but it does so little to prevent time from crawling by at a snail's pace.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and it’s a message from him. Wish Me Luck! You swear up and down it’s immediately after when the lights go down and the guitar starts playing off stage. Did he really just text you right before he started his show? Did that really just happen?

If there’s one thing about being in the third row with little to no one to block your view, it’s that no amount of high quality photos on twitter will ever amount to the real thing less than ten feet away. The sweat that drips down his leather vest for the night is mouth watering, the dark eyes in his expression as he performs hypnotizes you. You sing the lyrics, and jump and dance and occasionally drink, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t tear your gaze away from him.

And for a few moments, it’s like he holds your eye contact. No, that’s crazy. Nothing is happening. He has a million other girls to choose from, why would he choose you?

The concert happens in a blur, Eddie flings off the vest about halfway through the show, splashing some of his hair with his sweat. Your friend laughs at the sharp inhale that leaves your chest as you watch it. Man, he really had you in his clutches.

Eddie holds his arms out for his band as they close off the last song, all bowing together. “Thank you, Indiana! You’ve been a fucking fantastic crowd, thank you!”

“You ready?” Natalie asks you, holding out her lanyard cheekily.

“Nope.” You admit, taking a large gulp of the beer you barely touched. “After another beer I might be.”

“You really wanna meet him tipsy?” Natalie asks, raising her eyebrows at you.

“I don’t wanna be afraid to say anything!” You shoot back, leading her to the bar. You buy another one, and it’s down your throat within five minutes. You inhale deeply, wiping your face off from the excess beer around your mouth. “Does my mouth smell like beer?” You ask, suddenly worried.

“If you have to ask, I think you already know.” Natalie tells you, patting your back and leading you to the sign that says BACKSTAGE in all caps with an arrow pointing left.

A big security personnel blocks the big black curtain to the backstage area. You hold out your lanyard to him, and he gruffs as he holds his hand out for it. He takes a scanner to check out its legitimacy, and once both lanyards are in the clear, his face breaks into a smile, stepping aside to allow you through. It's almost comical.

The backstage area is busier than you had expected, arrows pointing you to where the visitors go, narrowly avoiding the crew as they bustle around. You both walk into a large area where several band members talk to friends or family, all sporting towels to dab their sweat away.

“Oh my god thank you for sending that DM.” Natalie whispers to you, looking around while starstruck. “I’m sure half these people aren’t even celebrities, but this is so cool! I’m going to go and mingle, you stick around for—”

You grab her by the collar, “Don’t you dare leave me alone here.”

“Ok, how bout we both grab some food? Maybe sober up?”

“Only because I’m hungry and free food tastes the best.”

You’re slowly picking at the fruit tray when you hear someone near you call out, “Eddie! My man!” You turn around to face him, the half-eaten strawberry you drop landing on the plastic tray loudly. You quickly finish the fruit and watch as he hugs his bandmate. “What, no shower, bro? You stink!”

The room echoes in laughter, and you join them. He does stink, and he stinks marvelously. The very scent makes you salivate. His laughter, it’s even better in person. He’s never laughed like this in any interview, all calm and toned down for the camera. This is genuine, heartfelt laughter.

You turn around to lean on the table, Jesus you need to calm yourself. Seeing him up close is sending a heat to your center that you're going to need to resolve quickly.

“Fancy seeing you, here.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine, barely five feet away. You turn and face him, your breath knocking out of your chest. Words cannot describe how little all of the photos in the world do him any justice. He is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

“Thanks for i-inviting me.” You answer, gulping at the slight shine his sweat still gives him. “You’re a really great performer…” You find yourself distracted by his chest. He’s probably going to get all sticky soon… he smelled even better up close…

“I’m gonna go mingle.” Natalie says, pointing towards a crowd of people talking to the band members. “Text me to let me know if you’re meeting me at the hotel.” Natalie gives a shy smile to Eddie and walks away before you could answer.

“Thank you.” He nods his head, giving you a smirk. Then, the unthinkable happens as he uses his thumb and pointer finger to lift your chin to capture your eyes with his own. How are they so pretty? “Are you going to make do on your promise?”

You gulp, your eyes flickering down to his pink lips. You’ve stared at his lips, how many times now? You nod slowly, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more quiet, then.” He offers, extending his hand for you.

You take it silently, his rough hands feeling warm and rough, but perfect. He leads you about ten steps down the hall, a doorway marked with his name over the words Dressing Room. As the door shuts behind him, he locks it, flinging his towel across the room. “C’mere.” He offers, extending his hand to you. You follow his instructions, sitting next to him on the couch. “You haven’t said a goddamn word, yet your message said fucking everything. Is the pretty girl shy?” He asks, thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod your head, gulping as his touch lights your skin on fire. “I—I was six drinks in when I sent you that message. …I wouldn’t have even remembered unless you replied.” You admit, leaning into his touch.

“C’mon baby, let’s see it.” You raise your eyebrows, inquisitively, wondering what he meant. “Your message! Couldn’t stop thinking about my after-show treat all day, a pretty girl begging to lick up my sweat. Show me.”

You nod to him, your near trembling hands reaching out for his chest. Eddie nods, a wild look in his eyes that nearly has you passing out. A loud exhale leaves your body as your hands reach out and reach contact with his chiseled, tattooed, chest, some sweat beads still lingering. How, you weren’t sure. Your eyes rake across his chest, taking in every tattoo you can, your heartbeat racing faster as you lean in, to finally, finally, rake your tongue up from his stomach to his chest, breathing heavily when the taste of the salt and his pure essence is even better than you imagined.

“Holy shit, she’s a fucking freak.” Eddie mutters, you feel his breath getting shallower under your mouth working on him.

You lean in again, nails digging into his skin as you give another long stripe across his skin, the taste of salt and delicious B.O. on your tongue and you let out a sigh of contentment. You crawl up to his collarbones, having noticed a pool of his sweat there gathered while he was performing.

Your tongue slides into the dip, moaning at the salty taste. Your teeth graze the bone, nibbling a little to leave little tiny bruises. You can’t wait to save the HQ pictures with these marks.

You leave one last long stripe on his treasure trail, having stared at many photos where his pants sit low. You’re nuzzling at it, breathing it in when you can feel him. Holy shit, Eddie Munson’s cock is only inches from your face.

You look up at him, and the back of his palms are connected to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, and his chest heavily breathing. He looks down to meet your gaze, and suddenly he sits up, grabs your face and plants a wet kiss to your lips. Your entire body tenses up, barely able to believe that it's real. Your brain eventually catches up, responding in kind, crawling so your bodies fit closer. Eddie pushes you back lightly before you get too close, having you lie down on his couch.

“Can I, sweetheart?” He asks, moving down to where your cunt has been begging for attention.

“A-are you sure? I don’t mind just sucking you off.”

He chuckles, leaning in for another kiss. “Oh baby, you just earned so much more than that.”

Eddie trails down your body, placing kisses on your exposed neck, lifting your shirt lightly as his hands move to cup your tits. You whimper in kind. “Baby, do you know what it’s like having the most gorgeous woman in the world offer to lick sweat off you? If you just give her a chance? I saw your picture you posted from the concert and fuck, you’re a goddamn smoke show. Those eyes, your gorgeous tits, your thighs, oh my god, baby, your thighs.” He talks through wet kisses trailing down your body until he’s face to face with your jean skirt.

He pulls twice, asking permission. You place your hands on your button to undo it and Eddie playfully swats your hands away. Your skirt is pulled off your body, leaving the fishnet tights and your thoroughly soaked panties. He leans in between your thighs, and your thigh muscles slightly convulse as you feel his hot breath against it. “Shh, haven’t even touched you yet, baby.” He hushes you, his big hands gracing your thighs gently. He leans in and you can’t tell what he’s doing until he starts pulling down, and you notice one of the strings from the tights in his mouth. He can’t seem to pull them off like he wants to, and after a last try he gets frustrated, ripping them off, instead. “There, that’s fucking better.”

You let out a tiny giggle, and then you feel so exposed to him, your lacy panties drenched as he stares between your legs.

If you told yourself this would be happening 24 hours ago you’d call yourself insane…or a silly goose. You were incredibly inebriated.

He flings the fishnets across the room and reaches out to touch your soaked panties, the touch inducing a whimper from you. “You’re soaked, huh, baby?” He murmurs, petting along your panties gingerly. You whimper in response, your hips lifting to meet his delicate touch more firmly. He chuckles, watching your face all scrunched up. “If you want me to touch you, beg for it.”

“Eddie, fucking touch me please, want it so bad.”

“Yeah, you want me to fuck you with my fingers, baby?”

You nod, starting to hopelessly grind your hips up. “So fucking bad, please.”

He smiles, watching the outline of your pussy as you get wetter. Without warning, he hooks his fingers around your waist band and tugs it down, and suddenly you find yourself exposing your pussy to the man who took most of your gallery's storage space on your phone. The way he looks at your pussy is damn divine. His eyes darken with lust, pink lips shine with spit, and his cheeks flush; it makes you want to close your legs in embarrassment.

They stay open, because you’re afraid to move, this must be a dream. This is too fucking good to be real.

“Fuck, I knew your pussy would be pretty, but I didn’t know a pussy could be this fucking gorgeous, look at you.” He rambles, you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy. He places a thumb gently on your slick, stroking lightly up and down, the sensation sending fire rippling across your skin. He sees your thigh shake the littlest bit. “Feel good?”

It does, but you want so much more from him. “Mmm hmm.” You answer, toes flexing with anticipation.

“Do you need something?” He asks, stroking your lips too lightly, not necessarily getting closer to anything. He just narrowly avoids your clit, watching you squirm as your eyebrows furrow lightly.

“I need more-I need more.” You choke out, your hips desperately rutting against his fingers. “I want you to touch me harder, or move faster, I need more.”

Eddie chuckles, hardly believing how much better you had turned out to be. “You need more? Okay, sure. I can give more.” He leans in to lick a stripe right on your neglected clit, and your hips rut up in surprise, a yelp of pleasure jumping out of your throat. It doesn’t even phase Eddie, now that he's tasted you, he doesn’t want to let go. “How do you taste so fucking good?” He asks, his voice low and husky. “Doesn’t make any fucking sense, this should be a fucking crime.”

You moan, hips grinding up against him, head back in pure ecstasy. “Your sweat shouldn't taste so good. I could bottle it like ketchup and eat it on everything.” You admit, your fingers flexing as a wave of heat runs right through you.

Eddie barely lets up, even as the sentence makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. He pumps one of his digits into you, a ringed finger, no less. Your jaw drops as he fucks into you, the hot pool of pleasure in your stomach starting to form. It's the best this has ever felt by a long shot.

Eddie continues to attack you, adding a second finger as his tongue swirls over your clit repeatedly. “Eddie…fuck…so good.” You can barely talk, your bliss radiating in every extremity. “K…Keep doi’ tha’…”

He stares up at pride at your cocked out expression, panting heavily as you feel yourself on the brink. Out of nowhere Eddie picks up his speed into hyperdrive, and you fucking keel over him, high whines escaping your throat as one hand flies into his hair and the other on the couch’s arm rest to keep you grounded.

The orgasm hits you slowly but leaves your thighs shaking underneath him in its wake. It's the best goddamn orgasm you’ve ever had. Eddie continues to place kisses on your pussy, licking up your cum from your entrance, seemingly quite satisfied with his hard work.

You're breathing heavily, looking up at him desperately through half open eyes. “You have to let me suck your cock, please Ed.”

He gives you a half smirk, you’re barely recovered and you’re begging to suck his dick? Did he win the lottery? “No, I need to feel that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock before I cum from the sounds you’re making, alone.”

You lift your heavy head up in confusion. “Sounds?”

“Have you heard what you sound like when you cum? If I had the patience, I’d be making you cum here, all night, but I fucking don’t. I need to know what the fuck your pussy feels like.” Eddie admits, and his voice sounds desperate.

You let your head fall back down, your legs falling down in unison, spread eagle. You shoot a smirk at him. “What if I told you to beg for it?”

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, and you see a light flicker on in his eyes.

“Beg for my pussy, Eddie. Wanna hear that pretty voice.”

Eddie grins widely, fuck, you just keep getting better. “Please, baby. Please. Let me fuck that tight, perfect pussy of yours. Please let me feel those hot, warm walls fucking pulse around me while I give it to you hard and well, just like she deserves.”

It's more than you could ever hope for, but you find yourself feeling greedy. “Hmm…not desperate enough. You don’t really sound like you want to fuck me all that badly.”

To this Eddie actually whines and groans in frustration. “C’mon, baby, please. Let me fuck you, I will do anything to feel that perfect cunt around my cock.”

Your legs hitch around his hips, pulling him in so his hard on in his jeans meets your bare pussy. You lean into his ear, inhaling his shampoo. “If you let me mark up your neck so I can have all those petty bitches be jealous of me at your next show, then go right ahead.”

“Oh, fuck, deal.” Eddie yanks his belt and his jeans and underwear off in one fell swoop, and the sight of his cock is better than anything you could’ve imagined. He kicks them off smoothly, lining himself up with you again in a matter of minutes. “Shit, you want a condom?” He asks, used to fucking bare back.

“I’m on birth control.” You tell him as he hovers over you.

“Oh that’s a good girl.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss at your neck. “You ready?”

“Fuck me, already, Ed, I’ve been ready since this morning.” Eddie chuckles and he slides himself in, the head of his cock burning only slightly, but feeling fantastic. “Oh, oh my god.”

“Fuck…” He grunts, waiting for your go ahead. “Better than I thought you’d feel. God, is this heaven?”

You giggle in response, your pussy pulsating around him in beat. “Your cock…so fucking full.” Eddie lifts his hips experimentally, and you let out a gasp at the burn and the pure pleasure it sends through you. “More.” You choke out when he doesn’t continue right away.  

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to listen to your request, your arms wrapped around his back as you clutch onto him for dear life. He ruts into you harshly, his hips snapping as it hits your g spot intentionally at every rut.

Your mouth seems like it’s trying to form words, but your head is so foggy by the time you open your mouth, the sentence is nowhere to be found. “Look at this cock drunk little slut.” Eddie laughs, watching your fucked out face.

Your hands tug on him, forcing his chest closer to your mouth. He lets his arms buckle down, slowing his pace down as his face finds refuge in the smell of your hair, while you start sucking lightly on his chest, leaving little bite marks. As you suck on his chest, your pussy sucks him in simultaneously, causing Eddie to moan from both sensations you were giving him.

Eventually, you have purpled your way across his chest, admiring your hard work as he continues moving slowly over you. “Eddie, can you go faster again?”

“Sure, baby. Be a good girl and turn onto your hands and knees.” You listen and turn around, tilting your ass up so it’s easy for him to slide in. “Oh, thank you, baby. Now lift your head up.” You do and he yanks on your hair, pulling a good chunk at the root. “That’s good.” He puts himself back in you, causing a guttural moan to leave your lips.

“Eddie…” You gasp out, the first hit surprisingly harsh against your hips. Not a part of you remotely minds, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as Eddie seemingly fucks you as hard as he can.

“You wanna still blow me, baby? Because I’m about to blow…” Eddie doesn’t have to say another word, you getting up and onto your knees on his animal carpet to wrap your lips around his cock and bob your head. “Use that pretty mouth…”

The feeling of you choking on it, your mouth desperately trying to take his whole length sends him over the edge. Eddie moans loudly, and you do everything you can to memorize this moment for the rest of your life, because nothing will top this.

Your mouth is overloaded with his thick cum, and one last load shoots out of him onto your face as your mouth pops off him, and ok, now nothing will top this.

He’s breathing heavily, staring down at the white shiny substance that made it’s way all over your nose and lips, some dripping down your chin to land on your tits. You start to gather it on your fingers, dipping it onto your tongue like it’s donut frosting. You hum to yourself at the salty taste, looking up at him through your eyelashes for approval.

“Shit, ain’t that a sight.” Eddie mutters, watching as you hopelessly attempt to clean yourself up before his cum goes everywhere. “Here, hold on.” Eddie yanks on a pair of low sweats and grabs something, walking towards the sink in the dressing room. He walks up to you and cleans his mess off your face and your tits, his hands behind the warm cloth gentle. He tosses it to god knows where and grabs one of the waters from his mini fridge.

He hands you the water and watches you as you slowly come back to yourself, the haze in your eyes raising. Your phone buzzes on the table next to the couch, and Eddie picks up the phone to give it to you and you call out to stop him a moment too late.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at your choice of wallpaper, it couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than thirst. The sweat glistening, his hand holding the microphone delicately, his face looking rather passionate about what he was singing about. Damn, that's a good photo, Eddie thinks. “So, did I just check something off your bucket list?” He asks, holding your phone out before tossing it to you.

You get up from your knees on wobbly legs, still needing some water, apparently. “Uh,” you take a sip, wondering how to answer as a wide smile settles on your face. On the one hand, you’re embarrassed. On the other, he had to know how viscerally thirsty you were after him. “No. I just did my bucket list.” You answer, taking another sip of your water as you stand in front of him, still head to toe naked. “Didn’t think I’d get this far.”

Eddie laughs at this, the same genuine laughter you heard from earlier.

You walk around the couch, bending over to locate your skirt.

“Lookin' for something?” Eddie asks, playfully pushing your buttons.

“My skirt…” you answer, peering across the room at this point.

“Can I be honest?” He asks, peering over your shoulder comically as you look around.

“Hmm?”

Eddie’s hands land your bare hips, tugging them backward so his boner hits your ass. “I could go for round 2.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” You whisper, turning around to face him. Eddie guides you, your steps messy as you back up to his vanity, a few brushes and the eyeliner he sports scattered. He lifts you easily onto it, your legs wrapping around his torso, pulling him in. You can’t tell when he removed his sweats, but the head of his cock unexpectedly against your heat already pulls a high whine out of you, sighing in relief. “Put it back in.”

“Fuck, don’t need to ask me twice.” He mumbles, lining himself up.

Your jaw drops as he pushes himself in, watching with a heavy chest as Eddie stares down at the sight of his cock entering your slick, a gulp leaving his mouth. “Holy shit, baby.” He mutters, exhaling as he bottoms out, his eyes closing. “How have I already forgotten how good your pussy is around me?”

Your breathing is shallow, watching with heavy eyelids as Eddie closes his eyes to seemingly gain his composure. “Eddie.” You whimper, your legs around his torso tightening. “You’re the…the hottest person I’ve literally ever seen in my life. Nothing will compare to this.”

You can feel his cock twitch in response, and you flutter around him as if to second it.

“Good.” Eddie grunts out, moving ever so slowly, eliciting a whimper from you. “Nothing better fucking compare, your pussy is too good for that shit.” His tongue sweeps a long lick in the crook of your neck, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as it feels dirty, in the best way. “May I return the favour?”

You’re about to ask when you realize his question is rhetorical, and you feel his teeth start to nibble, bite, and suck hard at your throat. He feels you suck him in as you breathe out little whimpers, the relief of his tongue against your skin followed by more stinging of his teeth working on you was everything, your nails scratching down his back in an involuntary response.

“Eddie…” you moan, head tilted back in ecstasy, nearly colliding with his mirror. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Baby, fuck.” He mutters, his breath hot against your neck. “I wanna mark you up everywhere.” You fucking tighten up in response, drawing a nearly cruel laugh from him. “Yeah? You like that?”

“Uh huh…” You admit, the feeling of his hips slowly drawing in and out of you and his hot breath on your chest becoming too much, but perfect at the same time.

His tongue makes its way further down to your tit, one hand rubbing your sternum desperately as his teeth work expertly on your bud. He’s not too harsh with it, knows the exact amount of pressure to make it hurt in the best fucking way. “So fucking pretty, baby.” He mutters, his hips starting at a faster rate. He lets off your tit with a pop after sucking on it gently, admiring the bruising that’s starting to take shape across your sweaty form.

You can do nothing but cling to him, all coherent thoughts gone the moment he started sucking on your collarbone sharply.

“Got any…any summer plans?” Eddie asks, out of breath. He moves a leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, deeper than before.

You let out a gasp of pleasure, the sound nearly feral. “Y-you.”

Eddie laughs, his ringed hand rough as he grabs at your thigh on his chest. “Oh fuck baby, I’m close again, your pussy is so fucking good.”

“Cum in me.” It almost sounds like you're begging. 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, his jaw dropping comically as he takes in your request. “Fuck, you sure?”

“Want you to fill me up, Eddie. Please.” You plead, and who is he to deny such a pretty girl?

“Gonna cum with me, pretty girl?” He asks, watching in marvel as you look more and more cocked out. You pull on him, yanking his lips to yours. You kiss him wantonly, deeply, all teeth and tongue as you do your best to express what you cannot with words. You don’t have a big enough vocabulary for the moment, anyhow. Eddie takes the lead and tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, drawing a high whine out of you. “Gonna answer me?”

The edge is so close, an all encompassing heat invading your lower stomach as a palm of his hand toys with one of your nipples. Suddenly you’re aware this could be the last time you ever get the chance, so you sweep one last lick on his chest, lapping at the fresh coat of sweat like it was your first drink of water after a long week in the desert.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna—” He doesn’t even finish his sentence, his hips stuttering as you feel his sticky ropes of cum fill you up so deliciously.

In his haze, his fingers latch to your clit, expertly working on it in small circles to send you over your edge as well, your pussy fluttering perfectly around him.

The smell of sex in his dressing room is evident, the air thick as you both catch your breath. Your leg falls down off his shoulder like a weight is stored in it, your foot landing harshly on the linoleum tiles of the stadium. Your head rests against his chest, eyes closed as you breathe in the stench of his sweat. You need to memorize everything you can, sure you’re about to be escorted back to the main party.

Eddie surprises you, his hands soft as they cup your face, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. His mouth is gentle as he works it against yours, the light taste of pre-show alcohol on his breath. He methodically uses the kiss to distract you as he pulls out, but you still whine desperately into his mouth from the loss. A laugh escapes his lips, and you swallow it, still needing his gentle kiss. He finally separates from you, kissing your forehead as his thumb caresses your cheek.

“So…are you?” He asks, taking in your fucked-out face. Maybe you’ll let him take a post sex selfie if you reject him to remember you by.

If. There’s no way on this earth you would ever reject him, but of course, Eddie doesn’t know you’ve been stalking his Instagram.

“Hmm?” You ask, not a thought in your head for the moment.

“Doing anything this summer?”

You shake your head no, gulping. Eddie saunters around his dressing room, grabbing his sweats and another white cloth. He returns to situate himself between your legs, sporting his sweats, the hot cloth causing you to yelp in surprise.

He laughs quietly, a fond smile on his face as he continues to clean up the mess he left in you. At least, you think it’s fond. “You feel like following a ragtag band of misfits around for the summer?” He asks you, voice soft as he holds your eye contact while his hand moves idly.

“Ragtag?” You ask, remembering their electric energy. They’re rockstars, no doubt about it. There’s not one person who can deny that they earned their spot on the stage.

Eddie breathes another laugh, tossing his cloth to the side. “We are as ragtag as it gets, doll.”

You sigh, searching those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes for any signs he was joking. “I-I will quit my job…are you serious?”

He laughs, caressing your forearm. It occurs to him you’re still naked, so he walks to the couch to gather your shirt and skirt. “Dead serious. I can’t let a face like yours and a pussy like that go very easily.”

“Okay…” you answer, your heartbeat loud in your chest. You were so sure this was just a one-time (two rounds) thing that the idea of him wanting more of you never even occurred to you. It’s just too good to be true, no one is this lucky. “If I quit my job, I can’t afford to pay my own way…”

Eddie smiles, handing you your clothes. “If you don’t want to wear that skirt, I can get you some sweats from the merch table.” He offers, before sitting on the chair a few feet down from you. “Baby, I’m on the cover of Rolling Stone. You’ll be fine.”

Your jaw drops open, staring openly at the man as he watches your facial expression. “I’ll need to go and pack up…”

“Babe.” He stops you, getting up to hold your shoulders with his hands. “I don’t even know your name, yet.”

“Y/N”

He lets out an exhale, fuck, that makes sense. “I didn’t even know your name, and all I know is if I let you go then I will never be able to get you out of my mind. Whatever is stopping you, I can throw some money at it or call someone to get it done. Do you want to stay with me?”

“Yes.” It leaves your body in a sigh of relief, like coming home. Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead; you can feel his lips moving upward into a smile. “Also, sweatpants sound really nice.”

Eddie saunters over to a walkie you hadn’t noticed. In fact, you start to look around his dressing room, noticing a duffle bag by a rack with empty hangers, half opened bottles of water, and his phone sitting faced down at a table nearby. When he asks for your size, you provide it, putting the graphic tee over your head. He plops down on the couch, waving you over to sit right next to him. “Need to text your friend?” He asks, teasing you.

“Actually, can I invite her in? Natalie’s my best friend and she won’t let me live this down if I send her back without bringing her in to introduce you.”

Eddie shrugs, starting to pat his pockets for his phone. You grab it on your way to sit next to him, falling easily into his arm. “Yeah, sure, if you’re ready for her to tease the shit out of you.”

“Are you kidding?” You ask, somewhat giddy. “I’m about to go on twitter after your next show and see dozens of people asking where the hell you got your hickeys. Nothing can bring me down from that right now.”

Eddie chuckles, crossing one leg over the other in an L shape. He plants a kiss on your lips, his tongue sweeping against yours delicately. “Fuck, I’m so glad you fucking DM’ed me.” There’s a knock on the door, your sweatpants from the merch stand are delivered.

“You have no idea how much I keep thinking I’m about to wake up.” You confess, your fingers playing with the light stubble on his chin. “Thank god for cheap stadium beer.” The laugh that escapes him is melodic and gorgeous. “Thank god for cheap stadium beer.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read comments and replies and tags and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

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#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar! eddie munson

[mizusnose]

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

no grave can hold my body down, i’ll crawl home to her

cannot express how absolutely insane i’ve been feeling about soft, sweet, tender, vulnerable mizu lately. like, it’s been consuming me. so here’s a little thing :)

summary: takes place in ep.5 where instead of finding her “mother”, mizu loses her way and finds you and the shrine you take care of instead. aka that flop m*k** doesn’t exist and no chance for angst!!

———

Mizu doesn’t remember passing out in the middle of the woods. Only that she’d felt like a blur of colors and heat and blood before she dropped off into a vivid dream of finding her mother again. Her dreams dwindled and led her to a semi-awake state of being nursed back to health.

You notice Mizu’s fluttering eyelashes and quickly set your hands beneath her neck, the tender curve of it. you can feel the bumps of bone there, warm skin and the dried-over blood.

Mizu gasps and coughs, you push the bowl of water against her dried lips. The fire crackles and spits out sparks.

“Thought you’d died.”

You remark, titling the bowl further when you see the muscles of Mizu’s neck work. more, more, more.

“Who. are. you.”

“The one who saved you from frostbite. Don’t get up, your stitches are still fresh.”

Mizu glances down at herself after you’ve left to tend to the fire. The plane of her stomach stretches and she hisses despite the warning.

“Told ya.”

You’re back in an instant. The same hand placement as before, steady against mizu’s neck. You ignore the glare she throws your way and instead poke gently at the stitches. Mizu tenses and curses. You marvel at the muscles pulled taut in her throat.

“D’you have a death wish?”

“Mph..! fuck, can you stop—touching it.”

You sigh, pushing away and standing. The half-dead stranger you found in a snowdrift some kilometers away from the main road wasn’t on your to-do list this week. Dealing with her was also gonna be troublesome.

“You’ve gotta stay, got it? It’d look bad if I turned you away.”

“Is this…?”

“Yama jinja. Small, I know. We get some worshippers here and there. Family-run.”

Mizu cocks a dark eyebrow.

“Plus you’d bleed out on the way back with your injuries. A bloodied path is not very auspicious, you know.”

Of course, Mizu initially tries to leave regardless of your opinions and later, demands. She’s a dam. Closed off and waiting to burst the longer she stays. It’s only with poking and prodding that the pressure starts to break.

It starts with a fever.

You tend to her as best you can, medicinal herbs and tea and salves. You’ve learned that Mizu’s annoyingly stubborn, but the fever persists.

She’s delirious half the time. In and out of dreams and nightmares, rarely awake to notice the crease forming between your eyebrows. It’s violent, the way her body fights to survive.

It’s only after she recovers that you realize she’s an animal: a fawn entrapped in the yawning mouth of a wolf. a raw, bloody thing that’s barely escaped death. That something’s been chasing her.

Mizu doesn’t leave after that. You don’t ask her to.

Mizu remembers little of her fever, but when she lays down on the tuft of hay near your bed every night, she dreams. It’s smeared, the version of you she’s conjured. Barely distinguishable, but Mizu swallows around it. The wide open of her belly, full and warm and vulnerable. She allows it.

Days turn into weeks and then months. The cold fist of winter opens up around spring and then summer floods in.

“You’re going to the river later right?”

“Mn. Need anything?”

“Just some…well, I’ll do it myself.” You say, the same time Mizu says, “Okay, I can do it.”

You look at one another, smiling softly. The cicadas scream outside and the sun is melting into the earth like the yolk of an egg. You nod and she quirks a grin.

“Be careful” You tell her. Her kasa shields her face, but the sharp of her chin moves and you know. Know what she’s doing with her mouth: the lick of her tongue, the bite of her lip. You know.

Mizu doesn’t take long. She’s returned by the time you’ve started dinner, and Mizu thinks of herself months ago. Bleeding out, covered in a pack of snow, barely noticeable, barely alive. She should have died. Didn’t know how she didn’t.

She casts a glance to you, unashamed, staring. The skin of your neck covering the bumps of spine. Right where you’d held her not so long ago.

The thaw of the earth has given way to soft dirt. When you realize this, you get your farming equipment out.

Mizu joins, delighted to be under the skim of sunlight and carrying the bags of rice grains. You don’t comment on the smatter of freckles that have bloomed on the bridge of her nose. You only stare and hope she doesn’t sense it, the way you feel about it all: Her and her voice and her hands and her body and, you both.

It’s with both your arms dug into the dark of the earth that Mizu quiets and stills. The wind settles and the cicadas shudder and stop their song. You hesitate to speak and when you do, she starts:

“You’ve never asked me. Not once.”

You think you know what she’ll say, and you start and she starts and you stop, and she continues.

“The wrong I did. It’s..it’s bad. Worst than you can imagine—than you should imagine. It’s, it’s dishonorable and disgusting and—and.” She’s looking at you then, eyes unfocused and red-rimmed. There’s a freckle on the curve of her forehead. You want to touch it, kiss it, soothe her. You wait. “The gods wouldn’t forgive it. You wouldn’t..wouldn’t forgive me.”

Your palms are damp and you breathe once, twice, stand and settle them back into the wetness of the earth. Right atop Mizu’s shaking hands.

“If the gods don’t forgive you, you’d still have me, and I, you.” You hope it’s enough, the touch, and the words and the way your body wraps itself around her. The plane of Mizu’s back shudders, stops, starts again and you lay your fingers into her. The same place you’d had them the first time. The bone, and the skin, and the person she is.

You think: the chase is over. The blood has been shed. The mouth has fed, belly full.

Mizu kisses you later that night.

Deeply and softly in the low light of the dying fire. It simmers into you, pooling low between your legs. Mizu pulls away, nose crushed up against yours, happy and proud and so beautiful.

“Couldn’t help myself. Was hoping you’d—“ a laugh. “Hoping I’d what” You say, hands rubbing up and down Mizu’s arm. Her shoulder, the elbow, back up again. “You’d kill me. Get mad. Throw me off you.” Another kiss, heady and slow. “Not strong enough for that.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.”

The monsoons start the night she kisses you. It beats down onto the pebbles surrounding the garden and the wood of the roof and the cicadas are white noise. The thunder and lightning fight to be louder than your moans.

Mizu doesn’t stop laughing, doesn’t stop smiling and kissing you, doesn’t stop. Not until she’s pushed up against you body. Both your legs, chest, and forehead touching. Curled into the soft of her.

“I tried, you know” You say.

“Hm?”

“Tried stopping it. This. Couldn’t.” You felt puffy and raw. Couldn’t say it clearly.

Mizu observed you, amused. Her hair down and her freckles dark, and her mouth red.

“Me too. Don’t worry, me too.”

And the summer felt like years. And mizu thought, as she held you: The ground had thawed. It’s thawed.

It’s thawed.

———

title and work inspired by work song by hozier bc cmonnnn

#mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x fem!reader #hozier inspired work #fanfiction #i am on my period and crying abt soft mizu ok? ok

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Historical AUs!

We have 26 incredible fics submitted to this list, stretching from the fifth century up to the 1990s. We have stories that fit into just over 2,000 words, and others that are more than 200,000! This list includes one LiLo fic, and we also have our first ever non-English rec, with a French language fic -- truly the language of love.

To all my fellow history lovers, it's time to go apeshit. Read, reblog, comment, kudos, bookmark, tell your friends, all that jazz -- your local fanfic writer appreciates it!

Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds (88649, Not Rated, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Violence, bullying, homophobia, slurs

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

Reccer says: The beautifully chosen words, the captivating story, the queer joy!!!

Unrequited by babyhoneyhslt (144000, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Omega Prince Harry is send to France to marry Prince Louis, but instead of the nice boy he knew when they were children, he is met with a cold and distant husband and no idea as to why.

Reccer says: It was so interesting to follow along with this and try to figure out why Louis was behaving this way. And then later see them fall in love. Really liked it and can't recommend it enough.

Danger I can’t hide by CelticSky (227290, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: War, homophobia

Flying Officer Styles and Sergeant Tomlinson would have likely never crossed paths in a time of peace, their lives laid out neatly, predictably before them. But then the world became unrecognisable. Too soon they grew accustomed to fear, surrounded by death and destruction, not even their freedom a certainty any more. Until they found each other. Comfort. Companionship. Understanding. Another person to lose.

Reccer says: It's one of those fics that I'd describe as monumental, masterful, epic. In my opinion, it should be made into a film, and brought to everyone's attention. The script is brilliant and relentless. The characters are subtle and nuanced. The writing is exemplary. A masterpiece.

Secrets in Winter by softfonds (82582, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

Reccer says: I loved the plot and the character development of the main pairing.

A cycle of recycled revenge by Brokenbeaks (103302, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Foxburgh, England, 1983. In the heat of summer, wreathed by pastures, rolling knolls, and thatched-roof cottages, Louis takes on a new job: caretaking for a recently blinded man named Harry. As it begins, what seems like a simple task turns into a quest that costs him every last bit of his pride and tolerance. Harry is, in practice, a two-legged curse. And Louis is just gonna have to put up with it. Or: The one where Harry likes to infuriate Louis almost as much as he enjoys straddling his lap.

Reccer says: Absolutely excellent. I was a bit worried about how Harry's blindness would be handled, but it was done wonderfully. Perfect fic. Perfect writing. Perfect plot.

Through Lonely Streets and Neon Lights by Sweetly_disposed (25107, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

1920's era, Great Gatsby inspired. Harry is a poor boy living in the South Village. Every night he watches the North City come alive and longs of crossing the river to be a part of it and escape his dreary life. The infamous Mr Tomlinson lives across the river from Harry. His parties are the stuff of legend; people on both sides know about them, and all Harry wants is a chance to go to one. When fate swings his way and he finds himself in Mr Tomlinson's house, he gets much more than he could ever have bargained for.

Reccer says:

Chasing empty spaces by Lis (Domesticharry) (79028, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

Reccer says: This fic is simply magnificent. A must read

An invincible Summer by Brooklyn_Babylon (44627, Explicit, Harry Styles Louis Tomlinson)

Never content to stay in one place for long, a few months down south researching for his novel seemed like an idyllic, slow-paced summer to Louis. He wasn't ready for the blistering heat, the backbreaking work of watermelon picking, or how stifling the attitudes in rural Georgia would feel. And he definitely hadn’t anticipated falling in love with the farmer’s son. The summer of 1946 would turn out to be everything worth writing about.

Reccer says:

Box of Rain by Indierection (amandamoraisa) (26631, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

1970 AU, Louis is a boxer and Harry a ring boy

Reccer says: The era is well transcribed (the way of life, the music), and the story is very charming.

Cela aussi passera (French-language fic) by Hazzunah (110721, Not Rated, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

1993: Louis is 16. It's summertime, by a lake in France. He meets Harry. 1999: Louis is in Japan; he hasn't seen Harry for 6 years, since that fateful summer. He thought he'd lost him forever.

Reccer says: For years, I've been reading only in English, but there's still the odd French fic that I come across that's really good. "This too shall pass" is one of them. It's set in the 90s, it's beautifully written, it's moving, and the characters are well characterized. For me, it's a gem. So I recommend it. For anyone who can read in French.

You Make The World Taste Better by LiveLaughLoveLarry/loveislarryislove (10000, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Harassment and threats from the rival baker, culminating in physical violence and a grisly end in keeping with the fairy tale

A twist on Hansel and Gretel as a rivalry between bakers, based on Hans Traxler’s fictional non-fictional text "The Truth About Hansel and Gretel"

Reccer says: This fic is such a wild adaptation of a story almost everyone knows, capturing both the sweet (literally, since Harry is a baker haha) elements and also the darkness of the tale.

No One Like You by myownspark (20000, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles were noted painters in the 19th century. Louis was a Neoclassicist, Harry a Romantic -- totally different, nothing in common, no connection. But centuries later, art historians Niall and Liam find something that suggests perhaps the two were more intertwined than people think.

Reccer says: I love the parallel timelines, watching Louis and Harry's relationship develop and fracture and heal at the same time as watching Niall and Liam discover things. We see pieces of history they're trying to puzzle together, and then we see the history as it happened, what it really was and what it meant to them.

Bloom by LadyAJ_13 (28909, Teen, Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Non-graphic violence, period-typical attitudes

In early 1970s Oxford, Detective Sergeant Louis Tomlinson has to deal with the dual pressures of a case that hits too close to home, and the arrival of new colleague Liam Payne.

Reccer says: This was an incredible, atmospheric, moody historical mystery fic. Topped off with a lovely, happy ending that had me tearing up.

Under Electric Candlelight by littleroverlouis (5051, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

In the 1970s, small town veterinarian Louis moves to NYC and meets a beauty at the bar named H who sometimes goes by Lola.

Reccer says: So immersive you feel like you're in 1970s Manhattan. The characters are truly electric and lovely.

this is my jam by disgruntledkittenface (4513, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Harry goes to a gay bathhouse for the first time. 90s AU.

Reccer says: This story is so much more than it first appears. I could feel the atmosphere and the emotion of the moment of the characters finding a freedom that didn't exist for them outside of the bathhouse's walls. It's an absolutely beautiful (and hot) exploration of such a specific time and place. So layered and thoughtful and hopeful and real.

After Dark, After Light by QuickedWeen (71440, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Kidnapping, battlefield

Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses. As the winter draws nearer by the day, the two are thrown together to prepare for the invasion that they expect as soon as the ground thaws.

Reccer says: This fic just sweeps you away to the Scottish Highlands! Such a fun historical romance!

the sanctity of patience by scrunchyharry (22521, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

When young Lord Harry was chosen by King Louis of Bavaria to become his husband and prince consort, Harry thought all of his dreams had come through. His illusions came crashing down when he understood it meant living in isolation in the alpine castle of Neuschwanstein with a husband who turned out to be far from what he had hoped for.

Reccer says: The writing is gorgeous and immersive. The characters are so vivid and I loved the way their journey to love played out.

Ace of Spades by allwaswell16 (78000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: depictions of violence, drug use

Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.

Reccer says: Once I started reading, I couldn't put it down. The plot twists! The suspense! The intrigue!

Adore You by Isthatyoularry (66979, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Arrange marriage AU, Harry initially hates Louis and their arrangement but goes along with it for the summer. Louis is perfect for him tho, as much as harry hates to admit it. They last.

Reccer says: The word building. Stubborn harry. Pining louis. Catching feelings. Hate to love.

We Can Find a Place to Feel Good by yeah_alright/uhoh-but-yeah-alright (8000, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

1960s AU inspired by Treat People With Kindness. Harry attends school dances over the years, meeting Louis and learning more about himself and what he loves.

Reccer says: Just so completely sweet and hopeful! Captures the vibe of the song so well!

The Garden Part 1 by Throwthemflowers/hazzabeeforlou (13000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Major character death, war

Biblical AU - 5th Century. A prince (Louis) falls in love with his father’s musician (Harry) in the midst of war.

Reccer says: This story is so hard to describe (it's Part 1 of a truly incredible 3-part series) but it's intense and brilliant and epic. The love here is all consuming and it comes through in the writing. Completely unique.

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by fairytalefemme (25896, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: internalized homophobia

40s/50s AU. Harry leaves his bride-to-be at the altar, runs away from his life, and finds a kind farmer who lets him stay.

Reccer says: Such a sweet, tender exploration of love and self.

With Words Unspoken by jacaranda_bloom (18000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Older Louis and Harry. 50ish Louis returns to a cabin he'd visited many years before and it's a hippie commune type place where he finds Harry.

Reccer says: It just made me SO HAPPY. Peaceful and lovely.

1957: here to take my medicine by zita17/louisandtheaquarian (2652, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Beat poets Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles blow off some steam before a reading.

Reccer says: Literally transports you to this particular time and place. And so so hot.

The murmur of yearning by Mediawhore (93300, Mature, Harry Styles/ Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: Rape/non-con attempts, death of character, slurs etc

Harry upon the death of his husband he was forced to marry find companionship and support in the arms of Land steward mr. tomlinson. Together they try to prove harry didnt murder his husband.

Reccer says: Regency era. Dark academia. Mystery and suspense. Forbidden love trope. The angst and mutual pining. Harry in corsets!

Love you in the dark by Perzikze (9225, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: Dubious consent i think, loss of virginity

Story of a historical wedding night. Innocent Harry has no idea what goes down during the wedding night; Louis eases him through it.

Reccer says: Innocent harry. Supportive Louis. It's adorable and sexy at once!

Stay tuned for the next list theme! It's similar... but different... ;)

#rec list #category 5 #historical au #one direction #louis tomlinson #harry styles #liam payne #niall horan #zayn malik #1dsource #1dficvillage #ficsfor4am #tracksintheam #trackinghome #allwaswell16 #alwaysxlarrie #1d rare pairs #hlcreators #girl direction source

[ghouljams]

How would fae!Ghost react if Darling somehow got away? Like once in a million chance and left. How would Ghost react? What would he do? How would he feel?

Darling likes leaves the town and moves like to the other side of the world because of how frightened Darling is.

This is extra but how would Ghost react if he knew Darling left him for another human friend/almost boyfriend of Darlings? Same thing, Darling left to the other side of the world to be away from Ghost and to see their boyfriend.

Oh! How would he feel if Darling left him for another fae, possibly one as old or more powerful than Ghost? I'm thinking Price maybe! Oh, course, it's up to you for whatever you want to do with this, but the main thing is Darling leaves/escapes Ghost.

Lovely writing and I can't wait to see more! Good wishes <3

You are trying to get this woman killed...

It would be incredibly hard to get away from Ghost in the early days of the relationship but where Love and Ghost are with their relationship now it would be impossible. Love can run but she can't hide. But let's say she did run in the early days, before she was love. If she decided that Ghost was too much for her to handle and she needed an out I think she could find one but it would hurt a lot.

I do not consider this to be a Love story, it is pure x reader because I trust you all are smart enough to run from the fae...

The fae that burns Simon's mark off of you and rips half the tangled tethers from you is not what you would describe as kind. He seems angry, it feels personal. It hurts more than you expected. You think he hopes it kills you when he rips them out. You certainly feel like you're dying.

It happens quickly. The burn and then the tear. He says it has to happen like this so Simon can't get to you in time, you don't know enough to say he's wrong, but the way he looks at you draws you back to thinking this is a personal pain for him.

"I have a friend," he tells you, "She'll get you somewhere safe." But what you think he means is that she'll keep tabs on you. Ensure that you're somewhere this fae can reach you for payment. This is a serious debt you've incurred and if there's anything you've learned about names its that "Price" must be a threat as well as a nickname.

You think of Ghost, of the mask and the insidious magic he worked on you without regard for your feelings. The ways he kept you docile and stupid, never knowing whether it was him making you forget or if you were truly losing it. The thought that it might be your mind failing you still hadn't left.

He was always so kind, but it was an act, specialized to trap you. Whatever he wanted with you, he'd shown himself one too many times, chased you too hard, tapped you until you felt like you were losing yourself to him.

Your skin is quiet as you follow Price through his home, through the strange door that leads to a silent snowy landscape. The warmth of summer is long gone here. Harsh reality has taken its place. It's strange how you can feel disquieted by normal. Ghost's shadow had never truly settled in you. You'd been holding on too tightly to your freedom you suppose.

You have your name back, at least, as you trudge through the snow, following your silent companion. Well, you suppose Price has your name now too, debts and all that. He turns a hard right and the trees start to slowly regain their color, the snow giving way to green grass and clover.

"Any life you create with the freedom I've given you is mine." Price explains, you nod like you understand. It sounds like a big ask, you don't really have the wiggle room to haggle. You don't really understand how all these debts work, which is exactly how you ended up in this situation.

"Who's your friend?" You switch topics, not wanting to discuss the finer details of your deal with the devil.

"You can trust her." That isn't what you asked, but you suppose it's as good as you'll get.

"She got a name?"

"Laswell."

"Is it her name?"

"Is now." Price hums, his hand slides along your back and guides you forward. You haven't been walking long but your feet feel like they're starting to blister as you hit some perimeter and pass through.

You're steered towards another door, a small fenced garden with a gate overgrown with vines. Price raps his knuckles against the wall and waits.

You don't know this man well enough to make conversation, and he doesn't seem to like you besides, so silence lapses. You both watch the wooden door in the other side of the garden, the one attached to the neat brick house. It opens after what feels like a long moment, a woman in a sleek ponytail stares at the two of you before crossing the distance.

"What's this?" She asks Price, all but ignoring you.

"Ghost's new ex."

-

Laswell is nice. Nice enough at least. You think she sort of... resents having to look after you. The check-ins feel forced, cold, they're a chore that you don't think either of you want to deal with.

For freedom from one fae you sure feel imprisoned by another. How you're supposed to build a life out of this you don't know. It doesn't feel like anything anyone would want as payment, fae or no. Your world consists of your work and your home. Your isolation follows you like a specter of your relationship with Ghost. The tethers that are left make you feel cold, there's deep empty hole in your soul where the tethers were ripped free and you hope every day to find something to fill it. You feel hollow. You thought you'd feel better, you have your freedom, Price hasn't come looking for payment, what more could you want?

You find yourself thinking of your boogeyman. The way he touched you, the way he talked to you, you think of the fear as often as you think of the infatuation. You hesitate to call it love. You don't know if Ghost knows how to love someone. You think about it though, in the wee hours of the morning. You think about how badly you both wanted it to be love.

Price assured you, you'd be safe. Laswell assured you, you are safe. Even the tethers still tying you to Ghost have no pull if he doesn't know where you are. But you'd know Simon blind.

You know as soon as he sets foot in the little Cafe, you don't even have to look up from filling the order. His presence in the doorway draws stares from the other custoners, something you never saw him deal with when you were together. When you look at him it's like you never left. His eyes burn into yours, and your heart clenches, the pathetic leftover tethers giving their best effort at lighting up. He looks bad, worn, like he's been wrung out and left to dry.

You tell your coworker you're taking a break and go to call Laswell. It's all you can think to do. You already know the room when you open the back room door. The hard wood floors and velvet drapes so out of place. An invitation. You close the door, and Ghost's hand closes over yours on the handle. His forehead drops against your shoulder, you wonder when the last time he slept was.

"You left," he tells you, as if you don't already know. He doesn't sound anything, you'd almost hoped he'd be angry if he ever found you. This is so much worse.

"I had to," you whisper, "you would've killed me."

"I'll get it right this time," you press your forehead to the backroom door, and squeeze your eyes shut, "I promise."

#simon ghost riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #cod x y/n #ghost mwii #x reader #in all seriousness Ghost would straight up kill his darling if they left him #ripping the tethers out woukd kill at least one of them #which is why Price was so mad he didnt want ghost to die #and he was looking st the tethers knowing what they meant to ghost knowing what you must mean to ghost #and he hated you for leaving one of his dearedt friends #this is some real x reader shit #not canon at all people Love has no mind to leave but the reader is smart enough to try #ghost would hunt you to the ends of the earth i promise

[celeryb1tch]

cruel summer!

an abby x reader x ellie summer camp counsellor fic! (aka my magnum opus)

jackson, wyoming.

not much to it other than the acres of land with groupings of small cabins sparsely spread. traced with wood plank fencing, and a front entrance with a hand-painted sign that read "welcome to camp!"

it was a long story as to how you ended up here. the start of a gap year after graduation had left you aimless, or so your parents believed. it was your dad's college roommate, a man you rarely saw past the age of ten, who proposed this opportunity. this connection had led you to standing in the middle of fucking nowhere, now a camp counsellor for the next two months.

"tiny!"

the childhood nickname almost paralyzed you. glancing around, your gaze landed on a large frame you didn't recognize. this person bounded up to you, surrounding you before you had a chance to wriggle away. when you looked up in fear in order to plan your escape, you met familiar eyes.

"abby?!"

"obviously, who else d'you think it'd be? my dad told me you were coming!"

"put me down!" you squeaked, thrashing your legs about to emphasize your point.

"sorry, sorry, got a bit carried away there," she said with a chuckle, easing you back down to your feet.

and this was when the full reality hit. abby- who was taller than you by only a smidge; abby, who was kind to you when no one else was; abby, who stuck up for you because everyone respected her and she couldn't bare to see you upset; your abby, from childhood- was here now. yeah, you had been told that abby anderson was gonna be here- but you hadn't seen her in at least five years, and now she was so incredibly hot.

she rambled her welcomes and introductions, taking your bag without even asking, ushering you toward the main circuit where you'd be working in a few days when the kids arrived.

you took the opportunity to really take her in. abby had always been muscular, playing any sport she could get her hands on as a kid. but now she had grown to be gorgeous- nearly six foot, broad arms and freckles dotting every inch of visible skin. a dirty blonde braid trailed down her back and bobbed as she took each step forward.

"-so that's about it. hey, you with me?"

you couldn't be sure how long you'd been unaware of your surroundings, only that it was enough to justify Abby's hand waving in front of your face, brows furrowed in concern. awoken from your ogling, your cheeks heated as you nodded up at the woman. "sorry, uh, it's a lot to take in."

"you'll get a hang of it in no time," she assured, that breezy smile returning to her face. "here, this is the girls' staff cabin- pretty simple, but you'll have plenty of space to lay out your things and—"

"fresh meat, huh?" called an unwelcoming voice.

the both of you turning around, a new figure appeared- a lean girl with shaggy brown hair, somewhere in height between abby and yourself.

"not now, williams," abby huffed, clearly accustomed to her unwelcome antics. you wondered if you should be equally wary.

"oh come on, anderson," the girl quipped, "won't you let me introduce myself? it's only polite."

abby's arms crossed, taking a step toward her. "you can introduce yourself, but that's it. anything else can wait until dinner, we have shit to do."

as this girl drew closer, you could see abby's jaw wound tighter. but still, she stayed to the side and allowed what was asked of her.

"ellie, but you can call me anytime," was spouted towards you, accompanied by the cheesiest wink imaginable.

you smiled, allowing a nervous giggle to pass through your lips. "nice to meet you, ellie," you began to reply, "i'm-"

"tiny, we gotta go," abby chimed in, cutting the moment just abruptly enough to disallow ellie's flirtatious introduction to continue.

ellie smirked, tipping her head toward abby as she leaned against the doorway. before she could cook up a reply to rattle abby further, the latter girl tossed your bag and pillow onto the closest bunk.

"we have more to cover before the meeting tonight, so if you'll excuse us, williams."

with a sly nod, ellie shifted to allow the two of you out of the cabin. you shot her a small wave when you turned to look back, before abby began lecturing about some other miniscule task on the grounds.

—

by the time the sun was low in the sky, you were sure you had seen every square foot of the fucking campground. abby had dragged you here and there and back again, certain to cover everything you could possibly need to know(and to keep you away from ellie, of course). she had showed you the nurse's station, the washrooms, the bunks, the washrooms again.

"it's my first time in charge this year, so i really can't afford any mistakes. my uncle would be so pissed with me," she confided, once the two of you had stopped at a picnic bench.

your hand reached out before you could consider otherwise, fiddling with the end of abby's braid as you always had as a child. whenever she was stressed, you would wind your fingers in her hair and soothe her through touch. it hadn't hit you that the custom might be strange now, given how long it had been. her small recoil of hesitation was unfamiliar, but after a moment she relaxed into the gesture.

"you're doing great, abs," you assured, "and i'm so happy we get to spend time together again. i really missed you."

a light blush dusted her freckled cheeks at your words. "i, uh- really missed you too. but hey, dinner's soon. i'll leave you to wash up or whatever, see you in a few."

with that, she had semi-abruptly stood and walked away, long strides carrying her quickly. had you made her nervous?

—

after switching to something covering your appendages to protect from mosquitoes as abby had warned, you made your way to the mess hall.

"tiny, huh? that on your birth certificate?"

you jumped a little, but recognized the voice of ellie williams behind you. her arms were crossed, with what you assumed to be her signature smirk as it was on her lips so often.

"abby called me that when we were kids, please don't... tell anyone else. it's embarrassing," you divulged.

she nodded, head then quirking to the side. "you haven't given me any other name?"

"oh!" you squeaked, once again embarrassed in front of this girl you had just met. "it's just (Y/N)!"

"alright then." she opened one of the screen doors to the building, holding it so that you could walk through. "see you later, tiny."

you tried your best to brush off the interaction, making your way to the front table where Abby sat. she smiled in your direction as you approached, and it warmed you like the sun.

abby stood, placing her hand on your shoulder and lifting a hand in the air. "everyone, attention please! this is our new recruit, (Y/N)! be nice, it's her first time."

there were nods and grunts of acknowledgment before everyone turned back to the food that was hot and ready on the table. self-serve platters of greens and chicken breast were spread across the three tables housing the camp employees.

smiling at you again, abby sat and motioned for you to join. as you pressed into her side to fit, you could feel the definition of her arm. in an effort to distract yourself, you surveyed the others at your table. you were met with friendly, sun-kissed faces of athletic young adults- all seemingly like-minded to abby. you smiled at the idea that she was loved and appreciated here, though that had never been a feat for her. abby anderson was easily likeable.

this summer would be fun. you would bond with your childhood best friend, make memories, and try desperately to act like you weren’t dying to finally kiss her… oh fuck.

thank u for reading!! i’ll be continuing to upload parts of this here + on ao3 (same user)!! have a great day!!!

(ps. do u like my little ms paint art hehehe)

#abby anderson x reader #ellie williams x reader #abby x reader x ellie #ellie x reader x abby #molly’s! #college!ellie williams #college!abby anderson #abby anderson smut

[eggymf-archived]

no place like home;

ft. garreth weasley with f!reader/mc (one-shot)

themes: hurt to comfort, angst to fluff, established relationship, aged-up characters, post-hogwarts, fiance!garreth, ex!dark!mc, slytherin!mc, 3rd person pov

warning: two idiots in love arguing, mc being the bigger idiot for once, implied traumatic events, implied violence, not spoiler-free, get a load of this sap

summary: she couldn't bear to make him suffer with every horrific danger that constantly chases her, hence she decides to run away one rainy summer night.

word count: 3.2k

a/n: happy weasley wednesday! this is my first entry and fic of garreth actually. i’ve decided to frankenstein the [lyric prompts] sent by @applinsandoranges​​ a while back along with the weekly prompt for weasley wednesday, “wet”. also, if you have read these two smut oneshots (pt.1 and pt.2), this fic features the same mc (just older). that aside, enjoy? :D

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3

bonus: audio

It was during the summer of 1892 — the year when they finally graduated from Hogwarts. 

She never expected to be given the privilege of spending the summer after her 7th year with Garreth. It was undoubtedly what she truly needed: an opportunity to escape from the utter chaos of the life she has within her own family home in London: specifically her father's seething wrath after that stunt she had pulled, which almost destroyed their own family’s stellar reputation within the wizarding world's pureblood society. 

Family drama aside, not only was it the perfect time for her to rest and recuperate, but it was also the chance for her to contemplate the future now that she has broken free from the shackles of her responsibility as an heiress (temporarily, that is). Perhaps in the midst of it all, she could also make amends for her past wrongdoings.

Oh, but [what on Earth can atone for all the wrong things that she had done]? 

It wasn’t an easy task, to say the least, for the blood that was spilled on her hands all in the name of the greater good has long stained her psyche. There was an insurmountable amount of filth that resides within her as the vessel of accumulated pain, and all she could do was endure the ordeal. The moment she had made that dire decision in the repository during her 5th year, she was doomed to a life of loneliness, but all of that changed during her 7th year when the threads of her own fate were intertwined with his.

She never would've expected that Garreth Weasley out of all people would serve as the beacon that would lead her back to all that had been long forgotten — her own happiness. 

Truth be told, she wasn't the most forthcoming with the notion of romance in general due to her unsavory experiences and personal issues, opting to steer clear of the entire topic in general. In fact, she was better off alone, but for some miraculous reason, the fiery-haired male had managed to creep into her heart, taking his rightful seat on its long-abandoned throne. It was truly a mysterious outcome, for nobody would've foreseen the unusual relationship to even happen, much less prosper.  

A Slytherin and a Gryffindor; the celebrated hero and an aspiring potioneer. They were like day and night; the sun and the moon — ever so different, yet fell in love too soon. Perhaps the irony of it all was what truly brought the both of them together, regardless of all their atrocities, differences, and follies combined. 

But even the greatest of love stories always had their own fair share of trials and tribulations, and the silly, dramatic little tale of her and Garreth weren't an exception. She remembered it all vividly: the times when she'd discourage him from pursuing her, only for her to fall harder and harder for him in the end.

“You'll never know peace a day in your life once you decide to be with me, Weasley.”

“I'm not good for anyone, lest you want a head full of gray hairs before you reach the age of forty.”

“You're better off without me, I assure you.”

“Garreth, please don't. I'll ruin your life.”

Yet her words, no matter how grim, threatening, or incessant, would always be met with his adorably goofy little grin along with the same simple reply that held the undying promise of his devotion and loyalty.

“I know.”

If only things were that simple.

From this moment onwards, ["I know" is never good enough] — not when she's aware of the dire consequences that would soon follow should she decide to pursue the yearnings of her poor, naïve heart. It was too huge a risk to gamble the life of the man who had brought her solace and joy amidst the pandemonium that rages within her blackened soul, for he was all she had left — the only person who would never treat her as a pawn across the chessboard; her most trusted confidant, companion, and lover: her chosen family.  

The musical incantation of Vulnera Sanentur from his Aunt Matilda's lips was all that she heard whilst she silently wallowed in her own thoughts of self-blame, her eyes darting around the damaged parts of their humble abode out of pure guilt. She glances at Garreth's father, who winces as several hands aided him to sit more comfortably on the sofa. His younger sister and older cousins scampered around to repair the several damages within the house whilst checking up on the others after the incident.

It was an ambush by dark wizards: the ones who sought to covet the corrupted power within her. Despite her not being a family member of the Weasleys, they fought gallantly alongside her, defending her as if she was one of their own. Although they are well capable of empathizing and understanding her prior violent display of magic within the heat of battle, it did not quell the bubbling shame that stews within her being. 

It was almost the norm for her to be targeted by the enemies that she had made in her past battles, but to be attacked while she was in Garreth's family home? To put the Weasleys in danger? Preposterous. Utterly preposterous. She'd never forgive her enemies for it. Hell, she'd never forgive herself for it either. 

The warmth of Garreth's palm on her arm startled her from her train of thought whilst she was in the middle of repairing the broken walls, offering her a kiss on her forehead the moment her head turned. 

“Garreth…” her voice, uncharacteristically small and hesitant, trails off while he cups her cheek, tracing his thumb over her delicate face as a form of reassurance.

“It’s not your fault, so please don’t think about it too much, alright? We’ll handle it from here,” he reassures.

Despite her evident disagreement with her fiancé's words, she bit her tongue, not wishing to add any more fuel to the fire. She gave the Weasleys one final glance as she headed to the kitchen to help his mother prepare their dinner for tonight while the others focused on either healing their mild injuries or fixing the damages within their house.

The Weasleys were a beautiful family. It was the ideal family that she would truly love to be a part of in a heartbeat: they were kind-hearted, selfless, and honorable, never swayed by the adversaries that came their way. It was for this very reason that she decided to protect them with all that she has, and she would never allow a single soul to harm even the hairs on their head even if it means that she has to bring herself out of the picture in the end.

Thus, she has made her final decision. 

[She's only safe when she's alone], just as they'd be a whole lot safer without her presence. She could easily slaughter anyone who stood in her way without fear of disappointing anyone with her ruthlessness, and none of her loved ones would be used as ammunition to make her submit to her enemies’ bidding. This painful choice was truly for the best — such as the fate of all fallen “heroes” who walk a lonely, dark path.

Yet despite all the danger he'd have to face and the sought-after coalesced filth of humanity that literally resides within her, her departure was Garreth’s greatest fear.

It was on the same day of the incident that he received the heartbreaking news in the middle of that particular rainy night. His sister was about to pay her a visit for their usual heart-to-heart session, only to find out that she was no longer in their home.

“Gone? What do you mean she’s gone?!” he bellowed, fear lacing his voice as he sped towards the guest room with soft footsteps trailing after him.

“Garreth, I'm sorry. I went to her room and—”

Not giving his younger sister a chance to finish, Garreth barged into the guest room with evident panic, only for his heart to sink at the sight of a room that was entirely bare of her belongings except for a note that she had hurriedly scrawled before she left.

I'm sorry. I love you.

Garreth quickly ran down the flight of stairs and straight to the exit of their home. The shouts and cries of his name fell on deaf ears as he bolted out of the house, racing into the chilly night with a million panicked thoughts buzzing unpleasantly within his head as raindrops drizzled upon his form.

[She had his heart, and he could only hope that she wouldn't hurt him] permanently with one measly written goodbye. He was angry and dismayed with her drastic decisions that lacked his consultation, but he simply couldn't allow all that they'd built to just disintegrate in a blink of an eye. She was, after all, his dearly beloved — the person he'd give his all without a second thought.

As soon as the thunder rumbled, he hurriedly took out the piece of parchment that she had left, casting a tracking charm with his wand. The piece of paper immediately bursts forward, leaving a trail of glittering golden dust for him to follow before the increasingly damp piece of parchment falls to the ground. The spell worked, and it only meant that she hadn't wandered off too far.

He knew exactly where she was from where the trail was heading. With the location clearly visualized within his mind, he apparates to their usual spot, hoping that she was still within the particular vicinity.

Needless to say, he was right.

There she stood in front of the tree where they often frequented for their usual picnics — the place where it's usually just the two of them, gazing upon the meadows of the countryside whilst enjoying the summer breeze. She looks upon the ring that was on her left hand, admiring the ruby and two small diamonds that glimmered under the moonlight. With great reluctance, she attempts to slide her engagement ring off, intending to keep it within their box of little keepsakes before she leaves, which was contained within the tree's hollow.

Amidst the soothing pitter-patter of raindrops, the sound of an audible crack was soon heard from a distance followed by several thuds of footsteps, effectively stopping her. She whips her head in the direction of the sudden noise, only for her eyes to meet a pair of emerald-green orbs. 

[Sometimes, she forgets that she was his] — he'd always find her wherever she may be simply because he knew her that well. She should've expected that he'd figure out her whereabouts within minutes after she had left the Weasley family home. He was, after all, her dearly beloved — the keeper of her heart; the one who knows her better than herself.

“Blast, I shouldn't have loitered around…” she thought ruefully as she faced him completely, a shaky breath escaping her lips as she braced herself for an earful. Instead, he runs towards her with a relieved expression, pulling her into his embrace before kissing her fervently. 

As if it were right on cue, the rain began to pour harder, just like those dramatic little romance novels written by Muggle authors. His touch, although scorching against her cold, damp skin, brought relief to her mind, body, and soul. 

It was only he could bring her such solace, nobody else.

As soon as his lips parted from hers, he grabbed her bag nearby before turning to her direction once again with a tired sigh. Before she could retaliate, he swung his arm around her, engulfing her in his arms before apparating back to his home — specifically into the living room, where the rest of the family was awaiting their return. A blush crept up to her cheeks upon feeling their eyes on her and Garreth, who held her by her waist. The both of them were soaked to the bone with their clothes and strands of their hair clinging uncomfortably onto their skin.

Wordlessly, Garreth set her bag on the ground before flicking the tip of his wand at both of them, casting a drying spell before making his way to the kitchen. She winced at his deathly silence, while the others glanced at each other with an evident grimace as well.

“... Alright, you lot! Off to bed, we go. Come along now!” his mother urges, pushing the other family members right towards the staircase, much to his younger sister's and cousins' chagrin.

“But mum—!”

“Shhh!”

She received several apologetic looks and pats of good luck from his cousins, for she was obviously going to need it. Garreth was upset — abysmally upset to be precise. It was a rare occurrence, but whenever it happens, it was a painful punch to the gut.

Silence looms over the living room, the thumping of footsteps dying out as they scamper to their bedrooms, leaving her and Garreth alone on the first floor of their home.

“Garreth…”

Silence.

“Garreth, please say something?” she pleads, all to no avail. He remains tight-lipped, averting his gaze from her as he grabs the nearby teapot to pour each of them a cup of tea.

She hated it when he was like this, but his reticence was definitely warranted. She sighs in defeat, finally deciding to stop beating about the bush.

“... The attack from earlier—”

“—Was, again, not your fault. And you ran away because you didn't want any of us to get hurt. I know that,” he cuts her off bitterly before he sips his cup of tea in hopes of calming himself down. 

“Then you're aware of the dangers, Garreth. You've seen what they're capable of. You've experienced it for yourself.”

“Yes. So?”

“So why did you bring me back? You know that chaos ensues whenever I'm around, and it's never the good kind.”

“Really, now? Seems like a pretty peaceful night to me until you decided to leave,” he sarcastically snapped, much to her exasperation.

“Garreth, for god's sake—”

He slams his cup on the countertop, nearly shattering the object. His frown deepened, finally looking at her with a glare.

“A note with no explanations? Sneaking out right under my nose? Is that how trivial our relationship is to you?” he asks with a tone mixed with anger and hurt. She visibly pales at this, panic evident within her eyes that he would even think of such a thing.

“Garreth that's not—”

“—what you meant? Oh, believe me, I know. But it certainly feels that way and it's really upsetting. I'm not mad though. I could never be mad at you, but I'm sick and tired of you pushing me away at every bloody inconvenience!”

“I'm doing this for your sake! As long as I'm around, you and your family will always be—”

“I didn't ask you to play hero for us!”

“So you'd rather thoughtlessly sacrifice everyone else just to keep me around?!”

“YOU'RE MY FIANCEE FOR GODRIC'S SAKE!” 

She was stunned into silence by his raging outburst, all retaliations within her head immediately disappearing as he ran his mouth, pouring out every single trace of frustration that had accumulated within his chest.

“Don't you know you're just as important as everyone else in here?! I know what I signed up for — mum knows, dad knows, my little sister knows, every single relative knows! You're already a part of this family at this point!” he continues exasperatedly, running his fingers through his hair out of sheer agitation. “Gods, you’re always like this! I hate that you feel the need to constantly tell me I shouldn’t be with you! I’m still here, aren’t I? Is that not enough for you?!”

She looks away, letting out a shaky exhale while she clenches her fists, her eyes becoming glassy with tears. His heart was thumping loudly, his chest heaving as his emotional hurt slowly descended from its peak. His glare soon faltered the moment he realized the aggression of his words, his fiery anger slowly dissipating as he stared at her with guilt simmering within his gut. Her eyes were downcast while she chewed on her lip, desperately keeping her emotions under wraps while placing her arms gingerly around herself to soothe her nerves.

With an aggravated sigh, he gently pulled her into a warm embrace. She whimpers at his display of tenderness despite the prior exchange of heated words, finally letting her tears run free as she wraps her arms around his waist, a string of apologies pouring out from her lips. He pressed his lips at the side of her head before parting from her as he cupped her face with both of his hands.

“Darling, listen to me. Look at me.”

She acquiesced, her bleary sight slowly trailing up to meet his verdant-hued eyes, which gazed upon her with pure love and adoration despite his recent display of anger. 

“I know I may not be the best man for you, but you best believe that I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe. When I swore to you that I'll accompany you to the ends of the earth, I meant every single word,” he whispers with heartfelt sincerity, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “But all I ask of you is to please have a bit of faith in me; in us — that we’ll manage all of this just fine. Please, I love you too much to let you go...”

“But… Your family…” she meekly sobs.

“Then we'll live alone together, just the two of us.”

“But what about you?”

“Then I'll be stronger for you! Hell, I'll beg Sallow to teach me how to duel better if I have to so please…” he begs, his voice cracking. 

“Don't ever leave again. Stay with me until the very end.”

At that moment, she finally caves into her heart's desire, standing on her tiptoes to urgently plant her lips on his without hesitation while his hand flew to the small of her back, the other placing itself at the back of her head to press her further into him. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally parted, gazing at each other's eyes with a smile of relief etched onto their faces. A surprised yelp escaped her lips as he scoops her up into a bridal carry, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Well then, now that's done and settled, let's get you to bed, shall we?” he grins, his anger completely appeased by her response.

“At least let me bring my bag upstairs first, love. I need my clothes,” she laughs.

“Clothes? For what?”

“...To change in?”

“Oh, trust me. You won't be needing them tonight,” his voice drops into a teasing whisper. 

Her eyes widened, warmth creeping to her cheeks at his insinuation. He chuckled at her reaction, planting a kiss on her cheek before heading upstairs with her in his arms. The tense aura that loomed over the entire building was now completely gone, her soft giggles of sheer elation filling the halls before a peaceful silence ensued the moment the door to her room was closed shut.

Like the moon and stars that reside in the night skies, this was where she truly belongs — right in the arms of her dearly beloved; her most cherished abode.

#garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley x f!reader #garreth weasley x f!mc #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley oneshot #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy garreth #hphl #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley fluff #garreth weasley angst

[steventhusiast]

STWG daily prompt 23/9/23

prompt: summer camp

pairing/character(s): steddie, robin, dustin, will, lucas

CW: robin calls steve a whore but like. in her mind. and then a slut to his (and eddie's) face. but affectionately. they're besties.

-

"Robin, Robin!"

Robin's alone time is very rudely interrupted by a small group of pre-teens running over to her. Being a camp counsellor this summer has been fun, but she very much values her alone time by the lake. What can she say, she enjoys staring at the water and occasionally aggressively throwing pebbles into it.

So she may glare a little as she turns to look at the little terrors.

"What." She says more than asks.

Dustin, Will and Lucas are the boys standing before her, and the only one of them that doesn't wilt under her slight glare is Dustin. In fact, he lifts his head in retaliation and meets her gaze.

"We can't find Steve." He explains, and it's then that Robin notes the worry in the boys' eyes. She sighs, and fully turns away from the lake to focus on them.

"What do you mean you can't find Steve?"

"He said that he was gonna go get a change of clothes-" Lucas starts.

"And we were just gonna wait for him by the treetop course, but we wanted to get changed too-" Dustin continues.

"So we went back to the cabin and he's not there!" Will finishes.

God, this particular group has to be the weirdest group of pre-teens she's ever met. At least the rest of their 'party' aren't here, or the finishing-each-others'-thoughts thing would be a lot creepier.

"Okay, so," She starts, and gets up to start walking toward the cabins, the boys following her, "have you actually looked anywhere else before coming to me, or..?"

They stay silent at her words, and she sighs. The lack of an answer tells her everything she needs to know.

"You know he could have gone to the bathrooms? The cafeteria? One of the other cabins-"

She tops in her tracks as she cuts herself off. He wouldn't. That whore.

Before her precious lake-time, she was on an activity with some other counsellors, including none other than Eddie Munson. AKA Steve's summer camp fling. Who coincidentally also went to get a change of clothes a few minutes before Robin told Chrissy she needed a break and escaped to the lake. She bets he's also missing in action right now.

"Why don't you guys go back to the treetop course? I think I know where he is." She suggests to the kids, who immediately start protesting.

"What if he's hurt?"

"What if he needs help?"

"What if he got lost?"

She rolls her eyes at their worry. It's kind of cute, but so unnecessary. She knows exactly where Steve is (and Eddie, too).

"Don't worry. I know where he is." She says, and when that's not enough, continues, "Besides, if you run around with me you might miss the chance to go on the treetop course."

The kids run off in one direction, and she marches in the other toward the cabins.

Frankly, Steve's lucky the kids didn't think to check any of the other cabins. Especially Eddie's.

When she gets to cabin 5, she steels herself before going in. If they're doing anything nefarious, she's actually going to murder Steve. No. She'll murder Eddie for corrupting Steve. Steve never would have done something like this last summer.

"You better be decent!" She calls out as she loudly opens the door to the main room where the kids sleep. She starts toward the cabin leader's room with equally loud steps.

She just wants to give them as much time as possible to not be in a compromising position because... She does not want to see that.

"Heyyy, Robbie." Steve greets guiltily as she slowly opens the door to Eddie's room.

They're sat together on Eddie's single bed, cheeks flushed and polo shirts looking very rumpled. Eddie doesn't look guilty at all, with the wide and pleased grin on his face.

"Can't believe my alone time got cut short for this. Were you sluts planning on going back to your activities any time soon or were you just waiting for one of the kids to walk in on you?" She asks, one eyebrow raised.

Steve continues to look guilty, and Eddie snickers under his breath. How dare he.

"I'm serious! At least go into the woods behind the cabins!" She exclaims, and then shakes her head at them, "amateurs. Me and Chrissy would never."

#steddie #stobin #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #stwgdailyprompt #poor robin #she's tired of their bullshit #mywriting #dailydrabble

[padfootagain]

The Last Ones on Earth (III)

Chapter 3 : A Little Palace

Hello, hello! Here is a new chapter for my Darkling series!

I’m using elements of the plot that come from the books (the attack on the Palace in the second book… with the attack on the Little Palace by the Darkling, which I’m obviously changing here because reader has a good influence…). I know the series changed that part but I found it interesting to reuse that part from the books.

I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings for the series: mentions and depictions of violence and warfare, mentions of trauma

Warnings for the chapter: None

Summary: You and the Darkling are a team, even if no one knows it. Beyond being a team, you are the only one he trusts, and he's the only one you care about, and you're each other's true love. But if you've kept your secrets hidden for a long time, now that the Sun Summoner is fighting against you, it's time to reveal who you are, and what you are capable of...

Word Count: 3523

Masterlist for the series – The Darkling’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

The Darkling is standing at the top of the hill.

Under a tall oak tree, he stares down at Keramzin. The place where Alina and her tracker used to live, where they grew up, where they met. A place of memories.

He looks down at his palm, the wounded one, the one where the stag’s bone used to sit.

A place of memories… he has many of those, filled with thoughts of you. An old cabin lost in the woods on the edge of Fjerda, a large golden field in Shu Han, the empty halls of the Little Palace at midnight, a river by a summer afternoon, a wintery night spent by a fireplace, the details of your skin across white sheets…

He closes his fist, digging his nails into the wound that won’t properly heal, until it hurts, until it almost bleeds again. A blood darkened by merzost. A blood that isn’t really his anymore.

He has plenty of these sacred places too. They all faded, with time, with fire, with smoke and ashes and tears and nights spent trembling in fear…

“All the children are gathered, sir,” reports Fedyor.

“Are they well?” the Darkling asks in a cold voice, impersonal, but he still asks.

“Yes, sir. They’re all well.”

“The adults?”

“Botkin is wounded, he gave us a rough fight. A Corporalnik, an Etherealnik and two Maternialnik were there too. We’ve talked with them. Two have agreed to help us, the other three are unsure, still. I don’t think they understand what’s going on.”

The Darkling clenches his jaw. He wants to kill them all. It would be easier, it would make an example.

But if you were here, you would tell him to spare them. He can hear your voice speak the words.

They’re Grisha too. You can’t kill them. Give them another chance.

And the Darkling wants to see them all hanged at that tree, at one of the branches under which he stands. But it would be a mistake. You are trying to convince Alina and the others that there are no other way. He can’t be a mere villain anymore. His plan has changed.

“Make sure everyone is healed properly. Botkin fought against us, he can’t be trusted. Make sure he’s under heavy guard, and that he can’t escape. Let the Grisha free to choose, they can come with us, or go wherever they please.”

Fedyor nods, before turning away again to give orders.

And a part of the Darkling regrets his decision already. It doesn’t seem safe, it doesn’t seem punishing enough. Maybe there’s a part of him that’s cruel that screams for him to make them pay for leaving the Little Palace under Alina’s orders too...

But then, there’s a part of him who thinks of you, of the way you say his name, of the smile you gave him that day, on your horse, before leaving to find Alina Starkov.

And for a moment, Aleksander remembers what it feels like to be kind, and the regrets vanish like fresh snow under the sun.

He hopes you are okay. He hopes you are succeeding. He hopes all is fine for you. He hopes, above all else, that you are not making a mistake. You will reveal secrets both of you have kept safely hidden for a long time. What will happen then? When your enemies know what you mean to each other, when they know that you are each other’s weakness and strength alike… Will they use it against him? Will they hurt you to get to him? It happened before, and history has a tendency to repeat itself, over, and over again…

From the hill where he stands, he sees a large group moving towards the road. Children, guided by his soldiers, a mix of Grisha and otkazat’sya. Children who will grow up, one day, in a world he hopes is better for them.

If you don’t come back from your talk with Alina, he wonders if he’ll let them live, if he’ll see the children in them despite his hunger for blood and destruction.

A part of him is not fooled though. If you die, the last glimmer of kindness he has left will fade too. He won’t make a difference then, between Grisha, otkazat’sya, adult, child…

He’ll just destroy it all, until the ones who hurt you are dead, buried, and gone.

Three months earlier

An empty field, near Os Alta

“Alina has taken control of the Second Army, which means that our Grisha will follow her, whether they agree or not.”

Your voice was slow, your words cautious.

By your side, Ivan was biting at his nails, sitting in a chair too small for him, but there wasn’t much you could carry across the country. Your army was quite miserable, indeed…

Most of the Grisha who were following you had been rescued from prisons, from cages, from gallows. They were tired, hungry, wounded, terrified. But they were angry too, and traumatised, and they wanted blood as much as they longed for rest. It was a dangerous combination, indeed.

“How many Grisha are still in the Little Palace?”

The Darkling aimed his question at Ivan, but the Heartrender didn’t have that kind of information. He shrugged, apologized for not knowing.

There were two Etherealki in the room as well. Only five of you to decide what you should do next. You had to step up, after what happened in the Fold, and you knew that Aleksander didn’t like it. It put a target on your back. Still, there was nothing else to be done, you didn’t have the men to act like a tamed Materialnik anymore.

“We must protect them during the attack,” you said, but Ivan shook his head.

“They are traitors…”

“They don’t know that they have a choice. Most of them are still children, or were still at the Little Palace when all went sour. Alina going there first simply means that they had only her version of the story. They probably think the Darkling is dead. What choice do they have then?”

You turned towards the Darkling, his tall figure all wrapped in black, because of his kefta, but also because of the shadows stretching behind him. You were gathered around a small campfire, the golden flames spreading enough light for you to see the features of the Grisha gathered, but beyond their frames, all was dark.

You waited for Aleksander to speak, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared at the flames, lost in thought.

“If we hurt our own, we won’t be better than the people we are trying to fight against.”

That made him react, and he knew you spoke such words simply to draw his attention back to you, back to the present.

He had to be careful with his choice of words though. If you were stepping up in his group of Grisha, no one could know that you meant everything to him, and that he meant everything to you. That you were married. That he listened to you more than anyone else.

If they knew, you would be in danger. No one could know. Even if he longed to listen to you, to discuss the matter only with you, he couldn’t.

He heaved a sigh.

“It is more complex than that,” he argued. “They will probably fight against us.”

“Not if we refuse to fight them.”

All around the fire turned to you. This was a crazy idea. To attack the Palace, try to kill the king and his heirs, capture Alina Starkov… and spare the Little Palace? Refuse to fight the soldiers who were there, and who, without a doubt, would be called to help?

“We will never manage to approach Starkov without fighting our way through the Little Palace,” Ivan argued.

“The General was close to her. Maybe he can try to talk to her, convince everyone that he merely wants to talk.”

“It will not work,” the Darkling shook his head.

“Then we don’t get Alina Starkov, that’s alright. She’ll be on the run, much more vulnerable than she is now. We will have another chance. But if we attack the Little Palace and kill our own people, we will be seen as enemies even in our ranks. We can’t afford to be this way.”

“And so, you would choose mercy, sparing traitors, instead of making examples out of them? How soft,” the Darkling snarled, his tone mocking.

You thought for a moment, the others kept on talking. When silence settled again, you broke it, trying one last argument.

“Then, we can give them a choice. We will spare anyone who takes our side, welcome them into our ranks so they can fight with us. And we will kill anyone who chooses the king’s side. May they be Grisha or not. But we must give Grisha a choice. They must choose to fight with us. If we scare them too much, if we are too violent, they will feel safer with Alina, and follow her instead of you, sir.”

Aleksander almost let a smile spread across his features. You always knew what to say…

But he didn’t. Instead, he slowly nodded.

“Sounds fair enough. Those who were misled by the Sun Summoner will be given a chance to make the right choice. The others will be considered as our enemies and killed.”

Os Alta

Three days later

Night was heavy. The moon and stars were shining, yet they seemed shier than usual. Something in their light wasn’t as bright as they should have been. Shadows were thicker, they clang at skins and frames, they made the world outside the safety of torches and chandeliers unbearably blind.

It should have been a sign for the guards that the Darkling was here, but they weren’t wise enough. Perhaps they were still too naïve, perhaps they were tired. Whatever was the reason, taking them down was easy.

The attack in itself was quick, almost orderly, on your side of the fighting. Breaking into the Palace, attacking the Royal Family… it was easy. It had been made easy by the idiotic Prince who had emptied the watchtowers and fortresses on the road leading to Os Alta…

Your plan was rather simple: Aleksander would take care of the Royal Palace, while you took a handful of Grisha with you and headed to the Little Palace in order to talk with whoever was there.

And you were not disappointed. The remnants of the Second Army wasn’t much to be accounted for, but there were a few dozens Grisha there. When you arrived, they were evacuating the children from the school. You decided to let them go. You already had enough things to deal with.

You were met by a handful of Grisha at the door. It was rushed, messy. Your arrival was a surprise alright.

“Stop! Don’t come closer!”

You recognized the voice instantly, even if in the darkness you couldn’t see his features.

“Fedyor?”

“Y/N?”

His stance didn’t change. Hands touching, his stance anchored and stable. A Heartrender ready to kill…

“Are you alright?” you asked, genuine worry shaking your voice.

“Yes, but… What… Are you with the Darkling?”

“Yes, he’s in the Palace.”

“He’s going to kill everyone.”

“Not everyone.”

You risked to take a step closer, but you noticed the way the five Grisha by his side tensed, and you didn’t dare move further.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“I’m here to get you out of here safe and sound.”

“You?”

You recognized the voice coming from Fedyor’s right. An Inferni. Salomon.

“Weirdly enough, even Durasts can be useful. Especially when you’re so ridiculously outnumbered.”

“We’re part of the Second Army, Y/N,” Fedyor spoke again, ignoring Salomon’s remark. “We can’t let him hurt the King.”

“The King is not doing much to prevent Grisha from being killed all over his Kingdom, these days.”

“But the Darkling does?”

“He does. He did when he got me out of a cage four weeks ago right before I would be hanged.”

An uncomfortable silence settled on the stairs leading to the Little Palace.

“I escaped as well,” was all Fedyor answered, but he didn’t need to say anything else.

He understood. He had been through the same thing. Only, the Darkling had not reached him in time…

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. Were there more Grisha with you?”

“We all escaped. And then we came here.”

“Good.”

“Alina told us what happened in the Fold.”

“It was a mess, apparently.”

“Is he really going to use the Fold as a weapon?”

“If he can. It seems to be the plan.”

You didn’t want to lie. Not tonight. That was not how you would get people to join your side.

“We can’t let him do that, Y/N.”

“Why not? Would you rather remain here and fight for the King against your own people?”

“Because that’s not what you’re doing?”

“I’m not the one with hands touching now, Fedyor.”

He seemed to relax a little at that. At long last, he lowered his hands.

“I don’t want us to fight,” he admitted.

“Me neither.”

“What’s the Darkling’s plan for tonight?”

“Wreck chaos in the Palace, find Alina, try to convince her to come with us.”

“And if she says no?”

“I highly doubt he will kill her, if that’s the meaning of your question.”

“And if we try to protect her?”

You remained silent for a couple of seconds, letting it hover in the night, so the tension would rise, so it would all seem more frightening when you would speak.

“He doesn’t want to hurt any of you. That’s why we’re here, talking, while he’s busy wreaking havoc. But I reckon we’re past talking about sides now. To me, it doesn’t seem like we have a choice.”

“You want us to join the Darkling,” it was more of a statement than a question, but you nodded anyway.

“He’s the only one who is going to defend us, Fedyor. Alina is not interested in Grisha, she wants power, and she wants Ravka.”

“You’re wrong.”

“She has two amplifiers, Fedyor. And I know she’s looking for another one.”

He remained silent, apparently taken aback.

“She talks about saving Ravka, doesn’t she? Well… I’d rather have us save Grisha first.”

You let your words sink in.

“I’m not saying that the Darkling’s plan is perfect. But I know that he won’t give up on us. And I know that he’ll use the Fold as a threat, not an actual weapon.”

“He’s already moved the edges of the Fold. He’ll do it again.”

“He’s the only one who will give us freedom and safety, Fedyor. Alina may be able to tear the Fold apart, and then what? We’ll go back to our status quo? Until the next excuse to turn against Grisha again? We can’t keep on living like this, Fedyor. And Alina is not strong enough to offer us safety.”

You shook your head, playing with the man’s heartstrings, but it didn’t change the fact that you believed every word that left your lips.

“We’ve tried being gentle before, and it didn’t work. Alina can’t do this on her own. We need to stay together, Fedyor. Maybe the Darkling and Alina can unite, I don’t know… but what I know is that we are Grisha, and that means that no one in Ravka trusts us. If we don’t help each other, we’re all going to die.”

You heaved a sigh.

“The Darkling has secured a place for us. It’s not as fancy as the Little Palace, but it’s safe. We’re tracking Grisha all over the country to rescue them. We’re trying to get everyone to safety while we still can. The Fold is a problem for later. For now, we need to regroup and help each other. Is Alina doing that as well?”

“I don’t know,” Fedyor admitted, and you could see that he was beginning to doubt her.

“Come with us. We have time to decide what to do with the Fold. It doesn’t change the fact that we must take care of each other. And the King is not the one who will give us protection. He never truly did. You are prisoners here. Even if Alina keeps you busy, we all know that the palace is heavily guarded. We killed the guards as we arrived. This is temporary, Fedyor. You’re a prisoner here, you simply have a beautiful cell and the illusion of freedom with walks under the sun. But you can’t come and go as you please, and we both know this won’t change for as long as Ravka doesn’t change. And Alina can’t do that, not on her own, at least.”

You gave the small group a moment to consider your words.

“We’ll give you ten minutes to tell everyone hiding in there that we’re ready to welcome whoever wants to join us. If they want to help Grisha escape and be protected, then they should join our side. If they want to, they can remain with Alina, as I highly doubt that she will want to leave with us. But staying with Alina means siding with the King, and that means we’ll be enemies.”

Fedyor and his Grisha disappeared inside the Little Palace.

Meanwhile, the Darkling had joined you. Wrapped in his shadows, you guessed he had been listening to the conversation for a while.

“Alina?” you asked him in a whisper as he stood beside you.

“She fled from the Palace, she’ll be here soon. How did it go here?”

“Fedyor is gone with our message. He has ten minutes left.”

“If it should come to that… if we must fight our own… stay close to me.”

You couldn’t refrain a tender smile.

“I was about to say the same. You need your old bodyguard back.”

He scoffed at that, holding his dark cloak closer.

“You were never my bodyguard.”

“I have at least three dozens of examples popping into my head right now to contradict your statement.”

“I could say the same about protecting you.”

“That’s why we’re such a good team. Equals work well together.”

You exchanged a smile, but the door of the Little Palace opened, and you focused on the building again.

Fedyor was standing by the door, alone. He talked directly to the Darkling as he recognized him.

“Sir.”

“Fedyor.”

“Sir, do we… do we have your word that if we come with you, nothing will happen to us?”

You glanced at the Darkling, standing tall by your side. So much charisma, a cold sensation of calm oozing from his frame. Not five minutes before, he was killing people and now… now he was perfectly stern, completely composed.

He gave Fedyor a nod.

“We are fighting a war,” he spoke slowly, his words heavy with meaning. “I cannot promise you that you will be safe. But no harm will come to you from me, if it is what worries you. I know that the Little Palace was heavily guarded. I know that most of you must be terrified with what is happening to our fellow Grisha all over Ravka. I understand that you thought it was safer to stay here. And I am certain as well that Alina Starkov had good arguments to make you stay. If you come with us, you will be fully trusted, like you were before.”

Fedyor nodded, slowly. He turned around, seemed to talk to someone, and then he was walking towards you, hurrying down the stairs.

You were relieved as you noticed several more Grisha following him.

“How many decided to stay with Miss Starkov?” the Darkling asked Fedyor as he joined your group.

“About a dozen.”

The Darkling heaved a sigh, but nodded.

“You can’t hurt them,” you whispered to him, making sure no one else could hear you. “Unless you are defending yourself. Otherwise they’ll be too scared of us…”

“I want them to be scared of me.”

“Not the Grisha. Alina, yes. The entirety of Ravka, yes. The whole world, yes, but not the Grisha. They are the only ones we need on our side, but we do need them to trust us. I’ve convinced them by offering them freedom and safety. Do you understand?”

He seemed to weigh his options for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was loud enough to be heard by all the Grisha surrounding you.

“Can you and some of your Durast lock the remaining Grisha in the Little Palace?”

“It will take a few minutes, but yes. It will slow them down, at least.”

“Then do it.”

“And if they try to stop us?”

“Defend yourselves, if you have no other choice. But we won’t be the first ones to strike.”

You exchanged a discreet nod, and you brushed your fingers against his, a tender gesture signifying that you agreed with him. And he kind of hated the way he longed for such an approval coming from you.

He turned to the rest of his Grisha.

“We need to find Alina Starkov. Come with me…”

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

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic @budugu @sayumiht

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling x y/n #the darkling x you #the darkling fanfic #the darkling series #the darkling fanfiction #aleksander morozova #aleksander x reader #aleksander x y/n #aleksander fanfiction #grishaverse #grishaverse series #grishaverse fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

[ourlonelymoon]

One thing I didn't truly realise until I started writing fanfiction, is how good for you it is. And it took writing an angsty Tanthamore fic to realise it.

Like, I have loved writing since I was a little kid: I planned this whole series of dragon books when I was 9 (only the first got written), I write poems, and I journal every night. But it's not what I do - my main focus, my day-to-day, is very very STEM heavy. Writing is my hobby, my outlet. It was just for me.

And then I started posting my works and I was writing about characters in different realities, characters than I love, rather than people I knew and my own personal pining. It uncovered this whole other layer of escapism that I, even as someone already using writing as an escape, hadn't realised was there. It became a catharsis.

Tell Me When Its Over has elements of myself, in that I think it's impossible for a writer not to leave traces between their sentences, but it's another fic that has really hammered this home for me.

I have a half written, unpublished fic called An Ode to Letting Go sitting in google docs that I started writing just over 6 months ago. When I started it, I was dealing with the end of a summer fling with an ex-girlfriend (lots of history, messy, emotional, good and bad) that ended when I wasn't really ready for it to. We were friends before and after, but I've always said we weren't very good at or very committed to being truly platonic. The basis of the fic is Jade and Kit as ex-childhood-sweethearts, turning into this toxic on-and-off couple, sort of by mistake, as they try to deal with their outgrown love for each other. It is, undeniably, a story about my own relationship, albeit adapted to work for the characters.

And this is my point, because I wrote myself an ending. I gave the characters their motives, and I got them to explain, and they didn't end up together but they were happy. It was this accidental love letter to myself to show me the light at the end of the tunnel when I was miserable. Yesterday, I reread it for the first time in months and it sounds cringy but I could feel the growth in myself. There's a high chance that this fic will sit unfinished for the rest of my life because I don't need it anymore, but if it ever gets shared there is real peace in knowing that I can give other people these parts of me. And that is the magic, I think, of fanfiction and writing in general - how it can show you who you are, and heal you. When we exchange fics it's like we're all shouting out "Look at this piece of me in this character! Show me where you are.", and I think that is so so lovely.

#writing #fanfiction #also if you want to find out more about the dragon series do get in touch #it was truly groundbreaking stuff #oh and me and the girl are genuine friends now #promise #willow 2022 #willow series #kit tanthalos #ourlonelymoon #jade claymore #tanthamore

[ameagrice]

Reflecting Light

Once the annual Reaping has passed, and summer rolls out, Winter is the next toughest part of the year—another season of survival. Fortunately, best friend Treech knows exactly how to brighten up the stormy days.

Treech X Lamina | The Hunger Games

IT’S RAINING, just as it was the day she met him. The clouds are so thick you could just reach up and eat them—they do nothing to quell the rumbling in Lamina’s stomach; unfortunately, tesserae doesn’t do much to quell an appetite.

School’s out for the day—mostly everyone has left, besides the few troublemakers that still roam the halls, trying to escape detention. Perhaps, to them, Lamina looks the same. Or at least she hopes she does; it might keep them off her back. She watches as they jostle around by the door, trying to shove one another out into the heavy rain, thunder rumbling every few seconds. They laugh and shout as boys typically do, the way her cousins do when she sees them.

The sound of new footsteps growing closer prompts Lamina into action, turning her head. Newly-cut hair tickles her neck, but it’s forgotten quickly when Treech’s sharp, cheeky grin comes into sight.

“Thank goodness,” Lamina pushed herself off of the wall. “I was starting to think you were going to ditch me.”

“Ditch you?” He gasped, as though it were a crime worth the punishment of a hanging. “How dare you think so lowly of me.” He swung a heavy arm around her neck, pulling her along to the door where the boys are still shouting. As it always does, her heart speeds up ever so slightly at the chance of an altercation, but it doesn’t matter now that Treech is here—he’s popular within the small school.

She grimaces as the first few drops hit her face, and then all at once as Treech throws them out into the weather, at its mercy. Its cold texture shocks her at first, but Treech just laughs, as if there could be nothing better in the world than to be exposed to the elements, feeling life itself. Perhaps, though she’d only realised it now, he always had been that way.

“Oh—no, let’s go back inside—” she tries, resisting against his hold. “We’ll wait the rain out.”

He’s stronger than he looks, she’s always said so. Tall, firm around the shoulders when he swings her over his shoulder. In this last year of school, it’s like he’s shot up at a thousand miles a second. Lamina yells in surprise, protesting.

“Don’t be a baby,” he calls. “What’s a bit of rain?”

“What will your mother say?” She rolls her eyes playfully, “when you return home with ruined clothes?”

“Not much!” He bounces down the steps of the building, Lamina jostling at his shoulder. She can’t help the laugh that escapes. Treech’s hand on her ankle, just over her boot, holds tighter on the last, steepest step, the other hand he has raised to her hip holding her there.

This isn’t helping the accusations she thinks to herself, flexing her hand against Treech’s neck. My mother will never let this go.

Another part of her brain whispers, do you want her to?

No. She isn’t sure she does.

She’s shaken to life when he suddenly leans forward, hands releasing her. Lamina’s boots crunch the gravel and stones. They’re on the Main Street now, through the town. And she’s drenched from head to toe. A glance up at Treech shows her that he is, too. What were this morning dirt-brown curls, shiny and soft, are now flat against his head like a wet dog, his jacket dripping water. He still beams at her, and snatches her hand.

“Come on, then!” He calls, yanking her into a run with him. “I got something for you!”

She pants with exertion, trying to keep up with him. He doesn’t let go of her hand, warming it up. “Like what?” She manages. They fly past people on their work breaks, sitting outside their stores. They fly past the peacekeepers patrolling, who simply follow herself and Treech with calculating eyes. They shoot past the barbed-wire fences separating the soggy, dirty woodlands from the town, and the people working out there, axes coming down every few seconds, the people slick with rain and sweat.

She tries not to think of the future. Of what will be for her and Treech in only five months. A torturous summer, a lifetime of work. Another Reaping. If they can make it this final Reaping without being called up, they’ll be safe for the rest of their lives. Just let them turn eighteen, after the Reaping. They’ve been lucky since the Reapings started, just before they turned seven years of age. Luck has been on their side, mostly. Ten years, no calling their names.

Lamina hopes with all her heart, so hard, that it physically aches.

Treech finds a spot just behind a building due for demolition in a couple of weeks. There are no peacekeepers this far out of town, there’s nobody this far out of town, especially not in this weather. You’d have to be insane, she thinks.

“What is it?” Lamina’s brows raise, staring Treech down. His own eyebrows jump, a sly little grin coming to his face; it fits him well. Tanned hands dig around in the pockets of his pants, until finally he pulls out a small, white package.

“What is this?” She snickers, in a way she only does around Treech and her family. “Some sort of deal?”

“Only just,” he shrugs his shoulders, gesturing for her hands. She holds them out without question—trust came easily between them. He tipped the package until two little things fell into her palm.

Her eyes wide, Lamina can’t believe it. “No. Way. But—how did you get these?” The two small, wrapped candies are a delicacy she only had the luxury of tasting once, in a memory before the war, before the first games.

He winked. “Well now, I can’t go ‘round just telling anybody the tricks of the trade, can I?”

She rolled her eyes, a smile betraying her, and moved to pull her hand away. Treech’s larger one shot out, clasping hers closed around the candy.

“What, changed your mind?”

“Don’t I get a reward for my hard work?” He asks, not shy in the slightest.

She scoffs loudly, shoving him away softly. “My presence is enough, don’t you think?”

They sit, knees knocking in the rain, eating stolen candies.

Anything for one another.

Summer comes around much too quickly. School ends, the weather ramps up and sooner rather than later, the days are scorching.

Lamina knows, this is where things begin to head downhill.

Working in the woods is torture, in the heat. Peacekeepers guard the place, and have it surrounded. No breaks are to be taken unless they say so. Her skin is burned and sore before she knows it, and she hasn’t talked to her friends even once in the last two months. The shifts are exhausting, and prompt no want to so much as visit anybody quickly. It’s tedious, tiring work, but she becomes quick with an axe before she knows it, as if it was second nature. There’s always the fear of striking herself, something she tries to not think of before bed at night. But it never comes.

The Reaping is approaching. Only a matter of weeks away. And she prays to whatever is up there, whoever it is that her grandmother prays to, also, that she will be kept safe and granted this final wish.

Two months after the start of working long days, Lamina finally catches a glimpse of Treech. He’s just a few yards away, swinging that axe into the base of a tree with another guy on the opposite side of it. Under the unforgiving sun, his tan skin shines with sweat. He’s built up more muscle than he had at school, but the little amount of food everyone receives even after working isn’t enough to build up the way anyone should in District 7.

A peacekeeper notices she’s stopped working, and yells, jabbing her in the neck with the end of his gun. The altercation causes people to look and stare, until she raises her axe on sore arms and brings it down once more, splitting wood over and over again. People go back to work, but she slows ever so slightly, looking to her left.

Treech, dark-eyed, sleeves rolled up, watching.

He looks away before she can smile.

Reaping day comes around.

And the world comes crashing down.

Her name, the mayor calls.

Treech’s name, last.

He doesn’t look her in the eyes.

She can’t stop the crying.

She can’t believe their luck.

Or rather, lack thereof.

It happens quickly.

A long trip to the Capitol, embarrassed on live television. A capture in a zoo enclosure. A mentor in red shows up for one of the tributes, a Lucy Gray Baird. Where is Lamina’s tribute, she wonders? What about Treech’s? Don’t they care?

It’s the first night in the zoo that he talks to her.

“I’m sorry.”

The whisper comes when everyone else is asleep, the zoo empty of visitors, the night cooler than it gets in the district.

Lamina turns her head, aching on concrete. At her side, Treech is watching her. She’d been watching the starry sky, wondering if it would be the last time she saw them ever. Who knew; maybe she could win this thing.

Her eyes burn with tears again, throat closing up. And she nods.

“It’s okay.”

He reaches for her hand, and she lets him take it.

“I’ve got your back, alright? You can trust me.”

They meet with their mentors the next day. Treech has a girl who is soft-spoken and almost kind. Lamina gets a harsh boy, who smugly states, “You will win, Lamina.”

But not for her sake.

She can’t stop crying in there, either, under the judging gaze of her mentor, who runs through a list of everything she can do to win this game, including a detailed plan of which tributes to take out first—Dill, an ill girl who coughs through the night; Wovey, she’s young, an easy target. And then the ones to look out for—Treech, he says, but she knows he won’t touch her; Coral, who has been eyeing her up already, looking for her weak points.

They’re led back to the zoo straight after the meeting. Visitors come and go—Lamina almost wished they’d stay, and make the day last longer, to avoid the games tomorrow morning.

On the edge of sleep, she can’t quite grasp what is is that’s happening when peacekeepers burst into the zoo and demand they get in the truck. Panic strikes her so firmly in the face that Treech has to pull her along into the vehicle, by the hand, like they’re back in school.

They’re shown the arena they are due to fight to the death in from tomorrow morning. It’s huge, and she tries the best she can to take in all the places she could hide—there aren’t many. It’s one big, open space. She feels more hopeless and desperate than ever.

“Hey—lumberjack,” the girl—Coral, Lamina remembers her as—calls over to Treech. “Come here.”

Treech nods his head over to her. “Lamina—”

“No. Just you,” Coral says firmly. She eyes Lamina up and down. “Just you.”

And now she wants to scream. Wants to tear down the arena inch by inch with nothing but her hands, even if they bleed. Wants to shoot the peacekeepers away, wants to pull Treech back to her and demand he doesn’t let her go.

But, wishes aren’t granted when you’re from the districts. She should have been used to it by now.

People are watching them when Treech abandons her, walking over the Coral.

That’s when the bombing starts.

‘Rebels’ she hears a peacekeeper cry. The arena begins to fall to pieces and she can’t believe her eyes. Dust, fire and sparks fly up from everywhere, making it hard to breathe. The dirt in her eyes stings and burns, and she stumbles for a second, rocks and pieces of rubble hitting her skin, hurting her. She can’t see anyone, but she hears him.

“Lamina?”

It’s a loud, terrified shout of her name, and it hurts her a little bit more.

Treech shouts again, less sure this time. In a way, she’s glad he’s worried. On the other hand, she’s just as scared for him. At least he isn’t dead.

Someone picks her up from the floor with such vigor that it makes her dizzy, still unable to see. People are shouting and crying all around. All she does is hope the person pulling her along is someone good.

It’s a peacekeeper. He shoves her back into the wagon, falling into Dill, one of the other girls. One by one, the tributes are rounded up again, and taken back to the zoo. Treech is the last to be put on the wagon, heaving for breath. He blinks wide-eyed at Lamina, wiping his hands across his face, trying to get as much dirt off as he can.

She’s hurt. Physically, it’s easy to deal with the pain. More than once she’s fallen in the woods and had more splinters than she can count stuck in her hands. But emotionally, she’s scared. Treech has willingly offered himself up to another group—an alliance, she wants to call it, without a second thought. They’re supposed to be partners—if not district partners, at least friends.

That night, Treech sleeps away from her, on the other side of the pen.

And in the morning, when the games begin, he doesn’t talk to her. She cries the whole way to the arena, trying to hold it all inside, but she’s loud. Reaper, one of the boys, keeps glancing over at her, and she’s terrified. He’s sizing her up for the kill, she knows he is. He’s bigger than her, a lot stronger, and he hasn’t shown one bit of weakness this whole time. Coral grins cruelly when she meets Lamina’s eye, and again in the arena, when the countdown begins.

The bell rings, signally the start of the end. It’s a bloodbath already, but a sudden determination has struck her. She will not die here. There’s a small axe relatively close, at the bottom of the pile of rubble the others are climbing up, striking one another for the best weapon. She’s trying to ignore the district 2 boy, hanging from a rafter. Is he still alive? She’s not sure. Maybe he escaped last night in the bombing—she didn’t see him back at the zoo.

She’s got her weapon, and she gets out of there, climbing a broken beam all the way to the top. There’s a good vantage point up here, where she can watch the other tributes, the whole arena, and see who’s coming.

It’s a long, slow game.

Up from her height, she watches people die, just glad it’s not her. It’s awful to see, of course, but she thinks the more that go already, the more chance she has of getting home. They’ve all noticed her, sitting and watching, but nobody has approached, not yet. She keeps note of Treech guiding his little group away from her where he can, and wishes she could laugh. He’s abandoned her, left her to fend for herself, but tries in his own way to help.

Whatever was the point?

A day passes, and then the night, and before she knows it, she’s tired, thirsty and starving. Nobody has sent anything yet. Nothing at all to anybody.

But plenty have died.

Eventually, when she thinks she might be safe, Coral comes for her. Mizzen, a small, skinny boy, comes from one side, climbing up, and Coral the other, approaching her like a trapped animal. Treech and another boy watch from below.

She tries her best.

She hopes her family know that. She really, really fought to the end.

When Coral strikes her the first time, she’s stolen of breath. Lamina drops her axe, her heart plummeting in shock. This can’t be happening, surely? This isn’t the end, right? Treech wouldn’t leave her up for the kill, would he?

Oh, but he would. Lamina gasps, trying not to scream. Her betrayed eyes drop down to Treech as her hand shakes violently, trying to push down on her bleeding stomach, punctured from Coral’s weapon. Treech has turned pale, his eyes so wide, looking at her and away, at her and away.

Coral strikes her again, in the chest this time, and Lamina shouts, her whole body weak and shaking. Coral pushes her off the edge of where she thought she found safety, and she plummets toward the ground, dizzy and tired.

It doesn’t take long.

Her last thought belongs to Treech.

for @lofhdfn who requested the Treech and Lamina fic :)

‘It doesn’t take long’ hurt me icl. It took a while to get this out, I rewrote it a couple of times but I think I’m fairly happy with it, now. This is more of an interpretation story, I didn’t want to make anything too set in stone in case it didn’t go well or didn’t work with things I planned while writing it. I did take a bit out, but I tried to include as much angst as I could while still showing how they cared for one another.

#the hunger games #Treech and Lamina #treech tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas #lucy gray x coriolanus #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x lucy gray #lamina #katniss everdeen

[nightcourtseer]

Cruel Summer

Part 2

Summary: Elain offers Azriel something sweet.

Warning: Explicit

——————

Azriel didn’t think he had ever needed a cup of coffee so badly.

He had volunteered to play chaperone so that he might finally get some sleep, away from Elain and the townhouse. Ever since that night they had spent together, he had tried his hardest to stay away, to ignore the pull of her that made his heart ache.

If left alone again, he knew he would not be able to turn her down, if she wanted him. All he wanted to do was to please her, to satisfy her. And so going to stay at the House of Wind had seemed to be the easiest way to do that, to put enough space between them that Elain would have the opportunity to choose another, if she so wished.

What he hadn’t accounted for was the seemingly endless fighting and fucking between Nesta and Cassian that had him escaping to the training ring at any chance he got.

That particular night had been some strange combination of the two. Azriel had slipped out of the house at first opportunity, training outside until every single one of his muscles ached, and his eyes nearly shut on their own accord from pure exhaustion.

But he knew that there was a good chance it was still not an opportune time to be back inside. So he had pushed back any sense of guilt he felt rising in his chest, and went to the townhouse to bathe and maybe spend an hour or two before he could find some other way to spend his day.

The townhouse was quiet when he slipped in, his shadows whispering that its sole full-time occupant still slept peacefully upstairs.

With that he had loosed a sigh of relief, slipping through shadows once inside the house to his old room, where he bathed in peace and quiet, letting the hot water soothe his sore muscles and aching joints, carefully washing the expanse of his wings. After running a final handful of water through his dark hair, he stood up, dripping as he dried off with a soft towel and pulled on a pair of soft, airy pants.

An exceptionally hot summer still raged on in Velaris, and so he opted out of also slipping on a shirt as he padded on silent feet through the quiet halls of the townhouse. The sun was just beginning to rise, golden light soaking the grounds of Velaris between the three mountains, casting colorful glass shapes on the carpeted hallway through the stained glass windows lining the main staircase.

His shadows did not alert him until it was too late that the previously sleeping occupant had also made her way downstairs in the quiet of dawn, and that Elain now stood in the kitchen, dressed in a simple blue cotton dress, curls cascading loose down her back.

She was just pulling a sheet of sweet rolls from the stove when she spotted him, still hesitating in the doorway as he watched steam curl over the bread not unlike his shadows, caressing the soft skin of her neck and tangling in her hair.

“Azriel,” she breathed, moving to the set the rolls down on a stray cloth draped over the kitchen counter. He watched, transfixed, as a single line of sweat fell down the side of her face from the heat of the flame from the stove.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, face flushing as he realized that his top half was exposed, for the first time in front of her. His hair mussed and wet, droplets of water still slipping down his neck and back.

A pretty blush spread across Elain’s face as she realized this fact as well. But Azriel also did not miss a certain hunger flit across her expression as her eyes roamed the open expanse of his chest, sliding from the tattoos circling his neck and upper torso down to the marked vee of his lower abdomen, and what he feared would soon be an obvious indicator of his feelings for her, the pair of them alone for the first time in the townhouse since he had watched her find her pleasure for the very first time.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, I was just looking for a cup of coffee,” Azriel apologized, the words thick in his throat as he took a step closer toward her.

Elain noted the deep shadows underneath the spymaster’s eyes.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” she remarked, a question buried in the statement.

Azriel paused, wondering how honest he should be.

“Your sister and Cassian are a decidedly… passionate pair.” He couldn’t help a small, sheepish smile from pulling up the corner of his mouth.

“Oh,” Elain blushed further in understanding, even as a mischevious glint sparked in her eye. “I see.”

She went to the stovetop, lifting a pitcher of coffee still being warmed on the open flame. Azriel watched, transfixed as her graceful hands carefully chose a clay mug from the shelf, then poured him a cup of the steaming liquid. He could have moaned at the smell, as Elain crossed the kitchen to place it on the table next to him.

“So what you’re saying,” she said, her voice teasing, “Is that you’re a terrible chaperone?”

Azriel, even in his exhaustion, could not help but throw back his head and laugh. The sound, rich and low and musical and lovely, warmed something inextricably in Elain’s chest. She was only glad she could blame the hot kitchen for the blaze that was igniting beneath her skin.

“Sit,” she gestured, when they had both contained themselves.

Azriel needn’t be told twice, as he sunk in the chair and took a long, slow sip of coffee.

Elain gracefully manuevered back to the counter where she had placed the sweet rolls. A small container sat ready next to the pan, which Elain began to spread over the top of the steaming rolls. Thick, syrupy honey dripped over the side of each one, dousing the breakfast treat in a decadent layer of sweetness.

Azriel sat down his coffee, no longer as interested in it as he had been a moment before.

With her back slightly turned from him, he watched as Elain placed the container back on the counter, and then raised her fingertip to her lips.

Light refracted off the golden liquid on the point of her finger, and a flood of musky, cedar-scented arousal flared in the warm kitchen as Elain gently sucked on the sweet finger until it was clean.

She did not miss the shift in the air, a heaviness that could not only be attributed to the warming light of morning or the now-cooling stove.

Azriel’s loose pants suddenly felt impossibly tight, and he felt himself harden as he watched her lick the stray honey from her finger, cheeks hollowed as she let out a satisfied breath when she was finished.

But she did not acknowledge it, did not turn to see the darkened expression of the male sitting behind her as she gingerly lifted a roll from the corner of the pan, holding one hand below the treat as she seemed to float on air back over to him.

“Would you like one?” She asked innocently, a gentle smile offered to him.

Azriel could barely swallow, could barely breath as she took another step closer to where he sat rigid, hands clenched and wings shaking as they fought the instinct to flare.

“Azriel?” She prompted, her voice barely a whisper as once again a line was drawn in front of them. A step closer than the one they had last stepped over together, a step closer to where they might be inevitably heading together. A path rarely chosen, rarely traveled.

He lifted his foot. He took that step.

He nodded his head.

But he could not have prepared himself for what she held in store for him.

Without allowing a moment for herself to falter, Elain slid onto his lap, straddling him and gently pressing down until she felt his hardness situated under her core. Only two very thin layers of fabric separating the two heats of their bodies.

Azriel watched her face carefully, brow furrowed as his fingers tigthened around her hips instinctually to help her balance, clutching the soft blue material of her dress.

Her face remained open, inquisitive as she scanned his expression, noting the way his pupils had widened as he watched her.

When he did not object, or push her away, Elain rested a hand on his shoulder, and moved the one holding the sweet roll to his lips, which he opened slowly to take a bite.

She watched, satisfied and lower belly stirring as his eyes fluttered shut at its sweetness, moaning from deep in his throat at how delicious it tasted.

When he opened his eyes again, a different kind of hunger sharpened his expression.

Elain put the rest of the roll down on the table next to him.

She could feel his arousal pressing into her from below, hidden beneath the soft skirt of her dress. It was all she could do to resist dragging herself along his growing length, stealing the pleasure that he had taught her how to take.

Elain wanted that morning to be about him.

She did not say a word as she began to let her fingers delicately trace along the whorls of the tattoos on his neck. Lingering honey coated them from when she had fed him, and the warm sugar slid over his clean skin as she traced the dark ink.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, as he watched her with half-hooded eyes.

He had just closed them completely when he felt a small, pink tongue begin to slide up the column of his neck, tracing over the path where the sticky honey remained.

His eyes shot open as his hips jerked underneath her, and he quickly tightened his hands around her hips to keep her from losing her balance on top of him.

She only laughed prettily and continued, her warm tongue and teeth and lips teasing and pulling and suckling.

He let out a loan moan as her curls fell, ticking his chest and shoulders as she moved.

Once she was satisfied that nothing remained to mar his perfect skin, Elain sat back, and Azriel let out a low hiss as the movement caused her to press down and back against his hardened cock.

But Elain was not finished with him.

Her eyes slid to the wings still trembling behind him. The large, beautiful wings that she had often snuck glances at when he had sat next to her in the garden, sunning them. Morning light passed through the skin of their membrane, delicate veins made visible only when light passed directly through.

How she had wanted to touch them, in all of those days sat in the garden. But luckily, before she ever had she had overheard a conversation between her sister and Mor, about the connection between an Illyrian’s wings and other… other parts of them.

She had blushed at the time, grateful that she hadn’t attempted to touch those of the shadowsinger and offended him. But inside, she still ached to know what they felt like underneath her fingertips. And even more, wanted to know how the beautiful shadowsinger might look when she put her hands on him.

Elain took her fourth fingertips on either hand and traced a path up on either side of those beautiful wings now, her eyes not leaving Azriel’s face as the remaining honey warmed the outer bones of the appendages.

This was his undoing, her soft hands, the warm honey, on his sensitive, trembling wings.

Azriel let out a choked sound and swore, his wings flaring to their full length behind him at Elain’s gentle touch.

He didn’t think his cock could harden any further, and his eyes grew heavy as her fingertips trailed back down.

A low moan reverberated from his bare chest as he pulled her closer to him.

“Beautiful,” Elain said again, the words reverent as her eyes swept across his wings.

She made to bend down, and Azriel froze, waiting for the moment that her lips would brush his. A line even further down the path than he had thought may be crossed that morning.

But no, Elain’s lips did not land on his, as his eyes fell shut once more.

They fell on the edge of his wing.

“Oh, fuck,” Azriel growled, eyes rolling back in his head as Elain let her tongue melt along the honey dripping down the top of his wing. Her warm breath ticking the soft skin.

He longer had control of himself, as his body began to move under hers, his fingertips grasping her soft thighs to grind down on top of him.

Elain’s answering moan skittered across the surface of his skin, and he nearly swore again.

It was only when she moved to his other wing, fingers replacing her tongue on the first, that she began to grind in earnest against him. Her wet warmth dragging on his length.

It was all too much, Azriel thought through the haze of his lust. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, between her fingers and her scent and her godsdamned tongue on his wings.

He tried to gently remove her, pushing her softly away, but Elain only responded with a longer, harder drag of her hips.

“I want to watch you come,” she admitted shyly, pulling away at last from his wing to look him in the eyes.

When he did not object, she grasped each wing gently with her hands, dragging them up as she did the same against his cock.

That was it. Azriel’s body seized beneath her, chest heaving to brush against the fabric of her dress as he gasped for breath. His half-hooded eyes never left Elain’s, even as he fought to keep them open.

Elain worked him through it, whispering soft words of praise as she watched him, even as she felt his come spread across his stomach between them.

When it was over, Azriel sank back into the chair, pulling her tightly against his chest as he let his head fall forward so he could press a shaky kiss to her fluttering pulse.

“I will never have enough of this,” he admitted, his warm breath tickling her skin.

“Neither will I,” she admitted, fingers combing through his still damp hair. “Neither will I.”

Tag List: @ultadverb @reverie-tales @illyrian-dreamer

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar fanfiction #elriel fanfiction

[scottxlogan]

My Holiday Fics Master List

So it's that time of year and I decided to put together a list of fics I've written that have a holiday theme to them in case anyone who might be looking for something that fits the season. Below you'll find the fics listed by the main pairings from what I've written if you're looking for something new (or old) to enjoy. Happy holidays everyone!

Scott Summers(Cyclops)/James "Logan" Howlett (Wolverine)

Home for the Holiday (Rated M) Out on the road Scott finds himself contemplating his life miserable and alone until a ghost from the past reappears in his life and gives him a holiday surprise.

Escape from Christmas (The Gift) (Rated M) Logan and Scott take one last mission to a town named Christmas right before the holidays. The plan is to finish the job and make it back home for a big holiday celebration. However, will fate have other plans?

James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark

First Holiday (Rated G) Tony wakes up to reflect on the blessings in his life in sharing his first holiday with his family.

Secret Santa (Rated E) Bucky Barnes is at work in New York City during a snowstorm doing everything in his power to avoid having to attend his best friend's holiday party where Steve and his new wife Emma are hosting a grand affair for their friends and family. Instead, Bucky has decided to play Scrooge in skipping out on the fun until his last customer for the night arrives at the shop in the form of a sexy Santa looking for the perfect gift. Blindsided by the new arrival, Bucky discovers that a night of passion and holiday flirting is exactly what he needs to lift his holiday spirits.

The Holiday Celebration (Rated G) Bucky is surprised to receive an invitation to Tony's yearly weeklong holiday celebration up north with the rest of the Avengers. Upon arrival, Bucky soon learns that the trip is full of fun festivities and activities where the team shows off their skills and enjoys the season. Still feeling like an outsider Bucky tries his best to fit in, but worries that he's making a bad impression on their host until Bucky suddenly discovers that maybe his perception of Tony has been slightly off in what Tony thinks about him :)

The Chase (Rated E) Bucky Barnes and his team are sent to suburbia to seek out and take down the Merchant of Death after they were given a tip on where he would be for the holiday season. When their intel leads them towards some down time on the mission at a holiday party, Bucky finds himself flirting with danger in more ways than he'd imagined possible when the night began.

Tonight (Rated T) Bucky prepares for a special anniversary with Tony, but Alpine has other plans. Will Bucky be able to give Tony a night to remember or will disaster follow when Tony arrives with a few surprises of his own?

Three Things (Rated T) Bucky Barnes has been doing what he can to push forward in finding a way to achieve peace in the world around him after life has pulled him in a new direction. It's holiday season and a chance meeting brings Bucky into connection with a kid who could use a little help and leads him closer to the three important things that he's missing in his life as spelled out by Sam in an appeal to get Bucky to embrace life.

Peter Parker is down on his luck after life threw him an unexpected curve. He's not looking for handouts, but when Bucky offers him friendship and a place to stay, Peter finds himself hoping for a return to the joys he's lost along the way.

The Beginning of the End (Rated E) In 1989 Tony Stark is convinced that he's found his soulmate in the man who rescued him at a low point in his life. From their first meeting sparks flew, but there's a part of Tony that's seeking out even more from his new roommate. Will Tony be able to convince Bucky to take things to the next level between them.

After a year of ups and downs Bucky and Tony's story comes full circle as we travel back to the beginning to see where it all started before finding our way to the present where things reach the dramatic conclusion. Will Bucky, Tony and their friends find their way to happily ever after or crash and burn when the enemy's plans come full circle?

WinterIron Bingo Round Robin - December 2023 (Rated G) Tony and Bucky decorate the tree during their first Christmas together – will Morgan approve? And what else does Bucky have planned?

New Year's Eve Related Fics

Tony Stark/Clint Barton

All in a Kiss (Rated T) Following a team up with Tony, Clint realizes he has a crush on his sexy teammate, but getting around to admitting to that isn't as easy as Clint hoped. When Clint makes a plan to capture Tony's attention, it winds up having some unexpected consequences along the way.

Tony/Loki

Stolen Moments (Rated T) On New Year's Eve in 1999 Tony Stark is about to enter into a new journey in his life, but before that begins a sexy, enigmatic stranger offers him a brief detour.

Tony/Rhodey

Together (Rated T) Tony and Rhodey have been roommates and best friends for a while, but after returning from family holiday with Rhodey's family where they pretended to be dating things have changed between them. Tony has ended his impossible relationship with his boyfriend and is facing the idea of spending a holiday alone as to not upset the balance in Rhodey's life. Will his decision prove to be a wise one or will Rhodey have a surprise in store for Tony?

Steve/Tony

Out with the Old... (Rated M) AU: Alone on New Year's Eve in 1989 in New York City, Tony decides to go all out in throwing a solo party for himself until sexy cashier Steve offers him a better alternative to a night of drunken loneliness.

Steve/Bucky

I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm (Rated G) Steve and Bucky prepare to spend New Year's Eve together in a posh hotel suite in NYC, but Steve has a few other surprises up his sleeve to welcome Bucky into his world.

Yelena Belova/Kate Bishop

Bringing in the New Year (Rated T) Kate Bishop has decided to spend the winter season with Lucky in the city away from it all just sorting her life out. On the eve of New Year's Eve at a NYC bar Kate discovers an old familiar face is back in town and set on delivering a special message to her.

#scogan #wolverine #cyclops #scott summers #james howlett #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #frostiron #loki #steve rogers #captain america #clint barton #hawkeye #yelena belova #kate bishop #james rhodeys #rhodey #stucky #stony #iron husbands #holiday fic master list #fic master list

[misshoneyimhome]

What I go to School For I AU Frederik Andersen Imagine

professor!Freddie x reader; au

Author's Note: Well, I stumbled upon this in my drafts and figured, why not give it a shot… I can't really offer any justification for it, though 😉

**

Focus. You had to focus.

"Alright, everyone, please turn to page 334 in your main textbook," your lecturer projected his voice across the packed lecture hall.

And you obeyed his instruction.

As you followed his presentation, replete with intricate terminology and expressions, you made a determined effort to maintain your composure.

Nearly every second, you had to remind yourself of your purpose: you were on the path to becoming an architect.

However, these classes weren't a cakewalk. Especially when you laid eyes on your new professor, there was no chance you'd make it through the day without your thoughts straying.

**

It all started during summer when you saw him for the first time.

He was the son of your father’s colleague, and you’d all been gathered for a dinner party with the office.

At this point, he was nothing but a simple stranger to you. A stranger named Freddie.

And Freddie had been utmost friendly, and when the men of the firm talked business, the two of you automatically turned to strike up a conversation, being the only “children” there; or you were the only plus ones that weren’t wives or husbands.

Initially you weren’t even supposed to be there but given that your father was divorced from your mother and had no one else to bring, he’d argued that it’d be good for you to come out to network since you were soon entering the real world completely.

And it’s not like you didn’t know any of them. You’d been at your father’s firm several times, even one summer as an intern to gain some experience for your studies and to earn some money for moving out.

And as the night wore on, you and Freddie found yourself engaging effortlessly in deep conversations about anything and everything.

You learned that he’d been studying architecture just like you (the conversation starter was rather obvious) but now he’d been searching to go in a different direction. What exactly that was he wasn’t entirely sure of yet.

Perhaps he was a few years older than you. Not that you minded. You’d always been rather mature for your age and with Freddie’s calm demeanour, you couldn’t help but sink into it.

Nonetheless, you both kept talking. And talking. And talking.

Just until the managers suggested to continue somewhere else, and you saw your potential escape from your father’s company dinner. However, a part of you didn’t want to break from Freddie just yet - and to your luck, he offered to follow you home. He argued that it was dark and ‘you never know what type of people are out there’, but to be honest, he didn’t exactly need to persuade you. You’d say yes anyway; but he didn’t need to know that.

And as he walked next to you through the streets of the cold weather, your conversation kept on going. The details of it you couldn’t entirely recall, however, what had imprinted a rather vivid memory into your mind, was when you’d reached the stairs to your apartment building and were to say goodnight. And just when you’d thought the moment was over, the tall ginger slowly leaned down, and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek.

The blush of your cheek was luckily disguised by the chilly air, however, words from your mouth escaped sooner than you expected.

“Would you like to come up?”

You were slightly taken aback by your own level of confidence, but there was simply something about this man that had you intrigued.

And it’s not like you were going to see him ever again. Right?

So, when he said yes, an indescribable amount of joy filled your heart.

And as it turned out, you were high on cloud nine all night. From the moment Freddie’s lips touched yours, as you’d entered your flat, you were completely mesmerised.

His touch had a magical effect on you, and nothing could stop you from seeing stars, as his mouth massaged yours, and his tongue gently made its way passed your lips to meet yours.

It sent a shiver down your spine, as you gave into his touch, and your heartbeat only quickened as he gently placed his large hands on your buttocks, and in a swift movement lifted you to wrap your legs around his hips, then slowly carried you to your bed, and gently placed you onto your back.

You could feel the mattress shift in weight as his large body came to hover you, and his lips returned to your mouth. And when they weren’t on yours, they’d travel down to your neck and place soft kisses on your skin, his teeth lightly biting, and you could sense a sensation of sucking as well.

You were his for the night.

Your mind simply couldn’t comprehend any rational thoughts in that very moment.

Especially not when he slowly started to undress you. Careful with every button of your shirt, and only soft touches when he pulled it off along with your dress trousers.

His large figure came to stand gorgeously in the dimmed light of your room, as he stood to undress himself as well. And in only tight boxers, framing his stiff, large member, he came back onto the bed to turn his full attention back to you.

His warm mouth was back on your skin, as he placed butterfly kisses all over, while removing your lacy black underwear you’d proudly shown off.

Silence was filling the room, only broken by the soft sounds of kissing, and light moans escaping your lips, as Freddie’s fingers found their way to your heated core, already pooling and ready to embrace him.

However, Freddie was taking his time. He’d want to make you feel good, before he’d pleasure himself. And as he heard the soft moans coming from your sweet lips, he made his move to gently press a finger inside of your heat.

Your chest began to move a little faster, as your breath slowly became heavier, feeling the amaze of Freddie’s touch. And when he added a second finger, which your wet cunt easily accepted, you felt a pleasurable sensation running through your body.

His two fingers gently pumped in and out, his thumb working your sensitive bud of nerves, and slowly - painfully slowly, he increased the speed.

You could feel yourself getting closer to a release, and only with a soft, almost whispery voice you pleaded for him to keep going and let you come.

Freddie’s eyes had turned darker, and he had to focus to keep his breath under control as he watched you intensely coming through your orgasm, with your wall clenching around his fingers. And not until you let out a final deep breath, he’d take out his fingers, leaving you feeling void, yet filled with pleasure.

But the sight of you arching beneath him like that and the beautiful sounds of your moans were almost too much for him, and he let no time go to waste as he almost ripped off his boxers and came to kneel between your legs.

His cock was proudly standing, ready for action, slightly dripping with precum and he once again leaned down to connect his lips with yours.

Still under his magical spell, you felt the tip of his cock gently pressing against your entrance.

Freddie knew he had to take it slow, and it was killing him. He was large and he’d already felt just how tight you were, but he longed for nothing else than to feel himself inside of your warmth.

But he was gentle. Slowly he pushed himself further in, and the room was filled with louder moans this time.

You couldn’t hold your moans back, as you felt just how good he stretched your walls and filled your deep with his magnificent length.

And once completely inside, you could almost feel how he hit the very back. You let out a deep breath and offered him light nod, only for him to gently pull almost entirely out, and push back in; again, hitting that very same spot.

And then he did it again. And then again.

His hips rocked in perfect steady pace, and you knew you could reach another orgasm any time. He didn’t even have to do anything else but to keep moving.

And Freddie could feel how his own release was building up, and as your heat took him so well, he could only feel the need to speed up.

Moans were filling the room along with the sound of skin clapping, and your heavy breaths. Endorphins were mixed with sweaty and glittering skin, as both your minds became hazy, and the dopamine filled your brains out of pure pleasure.

Loud groans came from the large man above you, and you could sense he was getting closer as his thrust became irregular and his pounding harder.

Your hands found the sheets and held a tight grip as the knot filled your tummy and another orgasm rushed over your body, just as Freddie offered one long loud grunt, as he spilled his seed deep inside of you, and emptied himself on a high.

And what followed was only a small fraction of the wonderful memory; he’d helped you clean up, gently wiping with a damped cloth, smiles adorning both of your faces, before you’d both returned to bed, and he’d cuddled with you until you drifted off to sleep.

***

And here you were, weeks later, finding yourself in his class about the prober dimensions and proportions of a heavy architectural design.

His bright red hair was like a flame to your eyes and as his voice sounded, you could feel goosebumps on your skin and your hair rising in the back of your neck.

Only when the class was dismissed, you were caught from your thoughts.

“Please, remember to come down with your papers for the latest hand in,” his voice echoed through the room.

Fuck.

With heavy steps and acting as casual as possible you slowly walked down the steps towards the centre where he’d asked for everyone to place the papers.

With a bit of luck, you thought you’d be able to sneak pass him while he was looking down, but no, it would’ve been too easy.

And just as you placed your paper onto the deck, his brown eyes met yours in disbelief, while an ‘o’ shaped on the curve of his lips.

You tried your best to offer him a composed and friendly smile, but you could sense your inner turmoil through your veins.

The memories of your night together flashed before your eyes and you knew a tiny sparkle must have shown in your eyes, as you tried to speak his name.

“Here you go, professor… Andersen,” you almost whispered.

Freddie was left speechless.

Never had he imagined he’d see you again. Let alone as one attending his very first class.

Shit.

#freddie andersen imagine #frederik andersen imagine #nhl hockey imagine #frederik andersen #carolina hurricanes imagine

[dreamweaversfavsandthoughs]

Rick and Morty S7 Ep. 9: Mort: Ragnarick

(God is dead and we killed him…and killed him…and killed him)

Turn away now to avoid the Viking hordes of spoilers ahead

My Favs

Delightfully unhinged…

This is a perfect description of the episode (and this season as a whole)

Somehow this episode combines the afterlife of Norse mythology, Pokémon, Bigfoot becoming an enemy-turned-ally and a showdown with the leader of the Roman Catholic Church into a story that is cohesive and wildly entertaining. Every single screen grab of this episode is one WTF moment after another, probably more so than any other episode to date.

…and sacrilegious

Did I mention that the villain of the episode is the Pope himself? Well it is.

“Fuck you, I’ve been tired”

Gotta love a sassy Morty moment.

Feral Clone Rick

I can imagine the conversation the director had in the recording booth,

“ Hey Ian, we’re going to need you to sound like a rabid squirrel at this moment. No, more rabid. More rabid.”

Plus, I don’t know what comment the writers are saying by implying a feral, animalistic version of Rick can make his way up the hierarchy of the Catholic Church….

Heavy Metal song during the tower defense sequence

Bigfoot being transported into Summer’s clone

Honest moment, I didn’t get why Summer/Bigfoot commented on how small her feet was the first time I watched this episode. I am slow on the uptake.

Poooooooope!

Popey Ball

I love me a corny pun and the fact that Rick had to point out this very corny, very obvious pun was icing on the cake.

Saying goodbye to Bigfoot

It absolutely killed me that they forced Bigfoot, who is just some guy at this point, back into the woods like he some stray animal. So mean!

Not My Fav

I wish we could have explored other afterlives.

When I saw the cold open for this episode I got really excited because I’m a bit of a mythology and religion nerd and I was expecting that this episode was going to be more of a deeper dive into different kinds of afterlives. It was a little bit disappointing that we only visited Valhalla and, very briefly, Jerry’s concrete and fog machine heaven. If I had written or pitched this episode I would have loved to see Rick and Morty hop around to different religions’ afterlives (Greek, Egyptian, Christian, Buddhist,etc.) and use different elements of those afterlives to harness infinite energy and defeat the Pope. Maybe in an early draft they went in that direction and it just got too bogged down and they had to cut back. Or maybe Valhalla is the only afterlife that Rick had a chance of getting into. He sure isn’t getting into Christian heaven after this episode.

My Thoughts

The concept of an afterlife is a bit tricky to develop in a show where one of your main characters is a staunch atheist and there is a scientific and naturalistic explanation for everything, including things that are traditionally associated with the supernatural, i.e. the afterlife. Of course, the explanation is nothing but science fiction mumbo-jumbo, that is said rapidly and moved on quickly, less we dwell on the nonsense too long. Nevertheless, I prefer the attempt to create consistency in the show's philosophy rather than have the writers throwing their hands in the air and conceding to the existence of the supernatural. Curious observation, we never see any deities in Valhalla and the Valhallans haven’t either since Rick is able to convince them that he’s Odin. Feral Rick being hung on a crucifix didn’t escape my attention either. It’s a running joke that Rick’s a god but maybe it’s not a joke after all…

This seems like a standalone episode but there has been a trend since season 4 or season 5 to have the penultimate episode connect with the finale, so I’m interested to see if this trend will continue. I don’t buy that Rick wants to tap into the afterlife just for the wealthy of infinite energy. Do you?

#rick and morty #rick and morty season 7 #rick sanchez #morty smith #rnm #rnm season 7 #rick and morty spoilers #rnm spoilers #mort: ragnarick

[daughterofbearsandrivers]

Horror | 0.5

She couldn't breathe. It was the first thing her mind registered as she came to consciousness. Her body felt lethargic and stiff limbed from being an awkward positioning for who knows how long. She blinked away the crusty edges of her eyes, feeling grains of dirt shift down in her hair and grimy clothes uncomfortably rubbing against her damp skin.

'It's cold.' She thought.

Encasing in strong sap like chrysalis made from secreted goop those things produce after ingesting organic materials, more preferably human remains, stuck to her body and other harvested corpses hung from the ceiling like a meat packing plant. She could literally taste the metallic iron of the rotten old blood.

'So disgusting.'

The female gripped the edge of her confining hardened goop, muscles in her arms and back burned like summer's sunrays. After several attempts she broke out, peeling away her hair and clothes from the other corpses, strings of undried fluids dripped down to the semi slippery tiled floors. She didn't have much energy to dwell on the fact she was absolutely filthy and in dire need of several washes.

'Vacations are overrat- shoot my nail is broken.'

She fleeting noticed as she tiptoed around the area, tentatively using her hands to feel around the place that is nearly pitch black. A very faint breeze of a broken air conditioning until brushed over her skin, briefly making her heart and spine become filled with ice. Swallowing back her nerves and increasingly permanent fear of the dark, the female noticed a dimly flickering light in the room across the hallway and swinging set of double doors separating the kitchen and dining area of the restaurant.

Just as she took a step in the direction of the light, she sensed it before it could she herself processed the swift action of jumping over the long industrial sized preparation table and crouching so low behind it, she might've been on all fours.

The trilling hallow clicks followed up by a rumbling growl and nearly nonaudible footfalls made the tiniest cracking noises as it's weight weakened the secreted hard goop on the floors.

She didn't dare breathe in it's looming presence. Taking small mercies and a vague sense of comfort in the fact most of the equipment here was aluminum or having an alloy of that same material. Or she would've gone the second she jumped over the table.

It steadily moved to the back areas of the restaurant in a practiced cautious manner that showed it's restraint and discipline in that moment. If she wasn't too much concerned about living, she might've found his physique to be...appealing.

The female inched her way forward to her previous designation, the flickering yellowed light that emitted low buzzing hum. Testing to make sure the swinging double doors didn't squeak or whine, she slipped through the opening. Moving in a half crouch she reached the light and found the dining areas of the restaurant to be in complete disarray of carnage and flies swirling in the air. The urge to vomit came to mind though there was nothing to regurgitate.

The remaining working streetlights of the main street spilled in an orangish yellow. Ceiling high windows were broken and it's glass fragments littered the floor like tiny diamonds. Sticking to the walls of the establishment, she carefully maneuvered around the glass, stepping on carcasses, not chancing they wouldn't hear the smallest noise.

'If there was an Olympics for 'A Quiet Place', I'd be reigning champion.'

A slow process that made her cheeks burn out of supposed embarrassment of an invisible audience and being caught unawares for making her escape too long. She swallowed thickly, she couldn't make mistakes, not one. Once she reached the door, she gently shifted the lower half of broken glass off then placed it on the ground before she quickly crawled out onto the sidewalk.

She shivered, rubbing her hands and forearms though wincing at the amount of mud she felt crusting and sticking to her skin. Lines of cars were crashed or abandoned in the main streets of the town. Looking around she waited a moment before she went over to the many vehicles, doing a quick cursory inside to look for anything she can use. Some of the vehicles were still on, a few emitting the silent broadcast of radio stations.

Seconds went by as the time ticked on burrowed minutes that stretched on for hours. On her knees in the passenger seat, she leaned towards the back as she found some water bottles and day old groceries. Just as her fingertips touched the cap of the water bottle, she felt the thin hairs of her arms raise up. Her eyes flicked up to see them, a black mass that sneered out a hiss.

'Oh shit.'

She didn't move but she couldn't stay with the passenger door open and being in a position that served her demise rather her survival. An echoing thump on the sidewalk behind her and on the rooftop of the car she was in made her cheeks blush and her ears hot out of anxiety. Most importantly they were sniffing or letting out raspy chuffs while they stood perched on the vehicles.

'I'm so screwed-'

The sudden wail of a car alarm shattered the silence, making the creatures screech then give chase to something. The panicked footsteps and labored breathing of a person sprinted by, they didn't see her as they shoved pass the open passenger door, sending her tumbling towards the back and her leg ache from getting hit by the door.

Their screams drew several more creatures from the shadows, the sheer volume of it giving ample time for her to get into the back seat of the car to sit among the groceries. Their shadows passed over head, their movements carelessly bashing into the side of the vehicles as their excitement for prey overruled their situational awareness.

'This is a nice car.'

She opened up the backseat, pulling it forward as she slid through the narrow opening of the back and pulled herself into the trunk. It was warmer in there, giving her a moment of solace and reprieve to let her body rest so her mind wouldn't be affected by lack of sleep tomorrow.

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