#but i darkened it so she looks more like a mix of her parents

[rhiaarrow]

My favorite headcanon about the eggs will always be that they took on the attributes of their parents

But thinking about what each egg took from each parent got me thinking, what did the eggs look like when they first arrived then?

Today's 7am ramble is about how I imagine the og 4 eggs (Chay, Dapper, Leo, Ramón) appearance changed over time and what attributes they took from their parents! :D

Were the first 8 practically identical at first?

In my opinion, yes!

The first few weeks of the egg event everyone kept mixing up the eggs names and forgetting which egg belonged to which parent which of course was just because they were new and no one had memorized it yet.

But why not add a canonical reason for people mix ups?

Everyone was just identifying them by their personal accessories because when the first 8 were delivered they were practically identical.

All small children with tan skin, similar face shapes and the same bright yellowish eyes. The only obvious appearance difference was their hair. All different lengths, styles and shades of brunette.

But they were ALL brunettes to begin with.

(all the dead eggs are commonly depicted as brunettes as well so this adds to it, they died before taking on a lot of their parents attributes)

Now, the first really obvious change that had the Islanders noticing the subtle changes in their own kids was when one day Dapper just suddenly no longer had iris's or pupils.

She just had white sclera blinking back at people and they were clearly his Dad's eyes. Then when they looked closed to see if anything else had changed they realized that both Dapper's skin and hair had darkened a fair few shades when put in comparison with his siblings obviously making to become pure black in both areas like Bad.

But hold on, now that they were comparing hair, they noticed that Chayanne's hair had lightened by quite a few shades. It was now a very light golden brunette, clearly turning blonde like his Dad, and under the skull mask you could no longer see yellow eyes looking back at you. So they removed the mask and sure enough his eyes were the exact opposite of Dapper, just pure Black sclera like his Papa Missa.

And wait, Leo's eyes were purple now! Unlike his siblings she still had her iris's and pupils but the iris's were now a rich purple like his Pa Vegettas and their hair had started to darken too. Closer in color to Dapper's hair, both of them clearly developing black hair like their Dads.

On first inspection Ramón didn't seem to have changed at all. His skin and hair were still the same shades as they had been when he arrived but later that day, when tucking Ramón in for the night, Fit realized that the sleepy eyes looking back at him were the exact same color as the ones he saw in the mirror. The same strange concoction of green and brown that he'd never bothered to find out the name for. And if Fit got choked up over that when he went to his own bedroom for the night, well no one needed to know.

Overtime there were far more obvious changes and also subtle changes that went completely unnoticed.

Chayanne's tail scales shed then instead of growing a new set he grew in a thick plumage, so rather than the lizard-like tail he used to have it he now had tail feathers that matched his father's hidden wings.

Dapper's tail shed the scales entirely until only the base remained, thinning into a long line as the end began to grow and change overtime until she had a forked tail just like her father.

Leo's tail did the opposite, growing in size and the scales became smoother as the end of it began to resemble that of a shark, clearly taking after her Pa Foolich.

Ramón's tail didn't change at all in style, he kept the lizard-like tail they'd all had to begin with, he just adapted to his needs. Fit knew better than anyone that in order to survive it's better to adapt to the hand (pun intended) you're dealt. So he helped Ramón strengthen his tail and work on his motor control until he could hold tools or weapons with the end of his tail, to use the tail as an extension of himself.

In stature, it was pretty obvious that Dapper was starting to take after her Dad when they had their first growth spurt. He shot up a head above his other siblings, still a small child but much taller than the rest. But less noticeably her limbs and body were a lot thinner than the rest, similar to the lean and lanky physique of their demon father.

With the fact that his skin was now pure void black it was easy to miss that her nails had changed into taloned claws and they no longer wore shoes since they'd developed hoof/paw things similar to Bads. Her horns grew to double the size they had been, they grew straight upwards and were sharp at the end just like his fathers.

Chayanne unfortunately did the opposite, having taken up his father's height he stayed practically the same height as his younger triplet siblings all hit their growth spurts. Much like his father, Chayanne was short and sturdy but with the way Dapper was gaining height it didn't matter. Chayanne's own horns stayed the same height they had been but over time they adapted to fit perfectly against the skull mask Chayanne wore.

Ramon and Leo stayed the same height for ages, when one grew so did the other. But then Leo discovered platformed sneakers and since Ramon lived exclusively in steel toed work boots it was easy for Leo to seem taller than her triplet brother, even though they were the exact same height.

In stature Leo stayed the same, no obvious changes at all to her physique but Leo's horns grew slightly and curled backwards over her cap. The most noticeable thing about them though was the fact that the tips of them grew in a vibrant purple, the same color as her eyes.

Ramón did quite obviously take after Fit in his physique but the only one who ever knew that was Fit himself. Ramon wore baggy comfortable clothes all day so no one else knew about the solid muscle mass Ramon had effortlessly gained from repeatedly working with heavy machinery and regularly going to the gym to work out with Fit.

Ramón's own horns however didn't grow at all, in fact they shrunk. With the fact that they were continuously pressed underneath his meathead and goggles they reduced themselves to slightly raised stumps that poked out from under his fringe whenever he took the meathead off. Although he only ever did that when going to sleep, only Fit knew how tiny his horns had become in contrast to how his triplets horns had grown.

I am totally drawing this when I wake up tomorrow, I have thought about this waaaaaaay too much not to at least try to put it on paper.

We will not mention the fact that it's already tomorrow, 8am is a respectable time to fall asleep...yep.

More Miscellaneous Stuff I think the OG eggs picked up;

Leo's skin took on a more golden hue but since she was already tan skinned it was barely noticeable unless she was standing directly in the sun.

Ramón picked up Fit's eyebrows. No particular reason why, he just did. I mean he already had a flawless moustache so why not flawless eyebrows to match?

Chayanne took on Missa's hair texture, making his hair much more volumous than if his hair had been fully taken from Phil.

When Pac officially called Ramón son he took on Pac's pure black pacman shaped eyes which gave Fit a hell of a shock.

Chayanne's ears bent down overtime, he didn't know that they now looked similar to how Piglin hybrid ears did, but Phil did.

Leo developed a strong jawline, not quite as chilzled as her father's but definitely more than her siblings.

#qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp chayanne #qsmp ramon #qsmp dapper #qsmp leonarda #qsmp headcanons #ahahaha fuck me it's 7am and im still thinking the hypothetical appearances of Minecraft eggs :/ #rhia rambles

[toxophilitis]

Horny Peeping Sister cont

Chapter 9

When his children told him about what he had missed, Jim forgot his fears about going out spying. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more anxious he became to hit the streets again as soon as possible.

The next evening, when his wife said she felt a little ill and went up to bed very early, Jim couldn’t have been happier. He was so eager to look in on some hot fucking action that he was willing to take a chance on going out with Becky and Tom while their mother was in the house.

“Get your coats kids, let’s go, go, go!” he exclaimed, interrupting their television program and switching off the set.

“Come on, Dad,” Tom said. “We can’t go with mom here.”

“Your mother has gone to bed with a headache.”

“Yeah, but what if she gets up?” Becky asked.

“I just looked in on her, and she’s asleep already. What’s the matter with you guys?” Jim leered. “Don’t you wanna fuck?”

Becky and Tom both laughed at their father’s new-found sexuality. And, instead of answering his question with words, they just went upstairs to change their clothes.

“I can’t believe she’s not home either,” Becky sighed as they turned away from Brenda’s darkened window. “She was our last hope!” The disappointed blonde looked into the equally long faces of her father and brother. They’d combed the neighborhood and had not found anything interesting to look at. Even the ultra-sexy Brenda had disappointed them.

“I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” Jim said, draping an arm around the shoulder of each of his children. “We might as well just go home and try another night.”

“Shit, and I was gettin’ really hot for it, too,” Tom grumbled, kicking a stone. They took their time walking home, their eyes still scanning the windows along the back alley. Many of them were lit and some even had open drapes. But there was no fucking happening in any of them.  They were just a few houses away from their own backyard when they suddenly saw the light in Jim and Julia’s bedroom go on. Instinctively they all hurried up, then slowed again when they realized it was just their own house.

“Your mother must be up,” Jim said.

“Oh god, what’ll we tell her?” Becky exclaimed worriedly.

Jim just laughed and rumpled her hair. “I’ll just say we went out for ice cream or something. Don’t worry.” As they passed by Julia’s lighted window on the way around to the front door, they just couldn’t help but look in. And when they did, the sight stopped them dead in their tracks, the three of them letting out a collective gasp of surprise. In her present state, Julia looked anything but ill. In fact, Becky and Tom had never seen her look lovelier and Jim instantly felt his cock pound with a longing for his wife he hadn’t felt in years.

Julia was leaning back against the padded headboard of their big bed.  She was naked and her legs were spread, her knees bent and pointed outward. Her small body looked rather frail in the soft light, her short blonde hair making her look like a child. The cross expression that had seemed permanent on her face lately was gone, and in its place was a look of rapture. Her hands were between her parted legs and all three observers assumed she was fingering her pussy. But then she drew her hands back away from her cunt and they could see something large between them.

“She’s fucking herself with something!” Becky gasped. “Oh my god, it’s a cucumber!”

Jim and Tom stared. Becky was right, Julia did seem to be pounding a large, green cucumber in and out between the lips of her cunt, her face rolling with lust. Jim and Tom and Becky each looked at each other blankly. Jim couldn’t understand it. His wife almost never wanted to fuck him, and here she was fucking herself with a pseudo cock. What was her problem? he wondered. Although Tom and Becky didn’t know the details about their parents’ sex life, they had assumed that it wasn’t the greatest. Still, they couldn’t help feeling sorry for their father.  His expression belied a dozen mixed emotions.

“Don’t be upset, Dad,” Becky whispered, nuzzling up to her father and cupping his tented crotch.

“Yeah, Dad,” Tom piped up. “Who needs her? You’ve always got us.”

Jim cupped his daughter’s groping hand and gave his son a short hug. He just didn’t understand Julia and he watched her for many minutes, his confusion growing rather than lessening. Tom and Becky stood quietly while their father stared at their mother. Becky kept her hand at his crotch, her fingers working over his lengthening prick. She was glad that she could make his cock hard even when he was so upset. What the girl didn’t realize was that his hard-on was as much for his wife as for Becky’s tender ministrations. Her young pussy bubbling as usual, Becky then dropped to her knees in front of her startled father and drew his zipper down.

Jim didn’t react and Becky helped herself to his prick, lifting it out of his pants. As she took her father’s cock in her mouth, she looked up his body toward his face. His eyes were sad, but his mouth was turned up into a sort of smirk. When she ran her tongue around the tip of his cock-head, she was delighted when he sighed and began to thrust his hips slightly, his attention still focused on Julia inside the house.  Tom watched his mother, too. She was usually so hateful that the boy had never given her body much thought. But now, Tom had to admire his father’s taste in women. His mom was petite but really built, with big tits and a figure that was usually hidden under loose, bulky clothes.  Her legs were short but nice and the hair between them was as blonde as the hair on her head. While they watched her, Julia rotated her ass around, pulling it up off the bed slightly. Sometimes she fucked her body at the thick, green vegetable and other times she used it to fuck herself. She rolled her head back against the pillows piled behind her back, the ecstasy she felt very obvious on her flushed face. Then she used one hand to fuck herself, moving the cucumber deftly. Her other hand remained at her crotch, rotating quickly, obviously stimulating her clit.

Tom felt his cock harden in his pants and he looked over to see how Becky was coming with the cock-sucking of their father, hoping it would be his turn very soon. Becky had her back to the window as she bobbed her face up and back on Jim’s prick. She took and released his cock-meat quickly, her hands toying with his balls. From time to time when she held only the tip of his prick between her tender lips, she turned herself enough to see that her mother was still fucking herself as lewdly as ever with the fake prick. The scene made her pussy juice and she wondered why she’d never thought of doing something like that herself when she was alone and horny. Becky jumped a little when her father suddenly reached down and caressed the top of her head. Aside from moving his hips a bit, he had been very unresponsive to her head-job. She sucked his prick a little harder now and Jim began to pant, his eyes still on his wife rather than on the girl kneeling in front of him.

Faster and faster the cucumber flew in and out of Julia’s pussy. The two men in her life watched as she brought herself closer and closer to orgasm. Tom felt hotter than he ever had before. Watching his own mother get herself off was something he had never even imagined doing, but now that it was happening he was thrilled by it. He even began to wonder what it would be like to take that stupid cucumber out of her hands and give her his cock to fuck instead. As Tom watched with greedy eyes, Julia threw her head back violently and jammed the green prick completely into her pussy. The vegetable disappeared totally and the woman spasmed hard, her head tossing and her mouth open to emit a silent scream.

“Oh yeah!” Jim gasped, slamming his cock hard into Becky’s throat and pretended his wife’s orgasming pussy rippled around the deeply embedded shaft of his prick. Becky strained to turn around enough to see what was happening with her mother, but she only got a quick glimpse before her father’s hands closed around the sides of her face and forced her to take his cock into her throat again. She moaned around it, forced to take the violent fucking blows meant for her mother’s pussy.

Out of respect for his father, Tom had tried to control himself. During his mother’s exhibition, he had contented himself with just rubbing his fingers over the tip of his packed fly. But now, when Julia jerked the cucumber from her pussy and then flopped over onto her stomach and held the creamy prick up to her lips, Tom couldn’t stand it anymore. He quietly opened his jeans and took out his hard-on, sighing as he began to jack on it while he watched his mother’s latest horny antics. Like a dog with a bone between her paws, Julia sucked and licked on the tasty vegetable, slurping up her own pussy-juices. Jim involuntarily licked his lips. Not too far back in his memory he could recall the delicious flavor of his wife’s cunt-juices and he envied her such a tasty morsel.  With renewed vigor he slammed into Becky’s mouth.

Becky had to work hard now to keep up with her father’s fuck-lust. His fuck-strokes were erratic and his cock was dripping so much the girl had to swallow constantly just so she didn’t drown in his creamy flow.  Her tongue grew tired from running up and down and around and around his prick-shaft, but Becky kept on, wanting to be the best she could for her sexy dad. If Jim appreciated what she was doing for him, he didn’t let her know. He huffed and puffed, jerking his cock from her fine oral grip and then fucking it back between her lips. But he never looked down at her or called her by name. As Julia worked over the cucumber with her ovaled lips, Jim felt more than ever like the lips that were around his prick belonged to his wife. While Becky played with his balls, he took hold of his own prick-shaft, jacking on it and moving the loose outer skin up and down it much as Julia was caressing the slimy cucumber.

While he worked over his own cock, Becky took a moment to crane her eyes around her father’s hard-on and look in on her mother. Her eyes went wide with shock as she saw the way her mother’s tongue reached out to clean her own pussy-juices off the slick surface of the vegetable she had used to fuck herself. Becky was reminded of the way Bobby’s mother had eaten his cream from Brenda’s cunt and again she felt that funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. What would it be like to taste cunt-juice? she wondered. Again her dad took hold of her face and jerked her back around, forcing her to think of nothing but sucking his cock. She zig-zagged her tongue tip up along that sensitive path on the underside of his prick and heard him grunt.

“Take it, honey,” he ranted. “Take, take it, take it!” Becky was again forced to absorb his frustrated jabs. The head of his cock poked against one cheek and then the other, stretching her pretty face out of shape and venturing dangerously close to her sharp teeth. His father’s words drew Tom’s attention and for the first time in many minutes his eyes left the brightly lit picture of his obscenely displayed mother and hit upon his equally ready father.

Tom saw the way his old man was battering Becky’s face, making her head snap from side to side, her hair slashing across her face. With a lusty grumble Tom gripped his own cock more tightly, fighting back the feelings of jealousy. He would have loved to have had his sister’s warm, soft mouth wrapped around his rigid, aching cock. But since he was alone, he, like his dad, imagined it was his prick Julia was lavishing such tenderness on. Julia’s pointed tongue stuck out as far as she could force it and then she ran it up and down the sides of the vegetable very slowly. She lapped at it like she was eating an ice cream cone and then she ovaled her lips and took several inches of the great shaft into her mouth.

“Yeah, suck me, baby,” Jim panted, his hips pistoning back and forth.  “Take it all in and suck me good. You want my cream? I’ll give it to ya, just suck me, yeahhh!”

Becky’s breath snorted out of her nose against the top of her father’s cock. Because she had been sucking him so long and so furiously, her nose began to run and she sniffled, drawing the thin snot back up into her nasal passages. But it didn’t help much and before long she could feel it running down again, gathering at the edge of her nostrils and then running down toward her top lip, which was stretched taut around her father’s fucking prick. Julia sucked her cheeks in around the rigid vegetable, putting a very sexy suction on it.

Both men moaned, each imagining what it would feel like to have such a thing done to him. She forced it in and out between her lips and Tom knew he had never viewed a more unnaturally erotic sight than that long green thing emerging from his mother’s pretty face. Julia made love to that cucumber better than she had to her husband in quite some time and it made Jim’s blood boil to watch. When she sucked in all the thick, round inches of that fake cock, he rolled his eyes, Becky’s mouth becoming his wife’s.

Again Becky peeked around, watching her mother with awe. The woman took in almost the whole cucumber and then pulled it back out. Julia held it up in front of her face, inspecting it closely, and then brought it back to her lips. Then, suddenly and to the horror of those watching her, she quickly bit off the tip of her pretend cock and chewed it up greedily.

“Ah, shit!” Tom grunted, his fantasy abruptly broken off, but his orgasm just as abruptly triggered. Becky heard the first spurt of her brother’s cream and then was startled when the first of her father’s jism followed Tom’s by only a few seconds. She gulped madly, taking the man’s super load and listening to her brother’s cock-cream pissing down onto the asphalt beside her. How she wished she could look at her mother right then, but with her father’s shooting prick crammed down her throat it was impossible for her to turn her head far enough side of the bed.

The man couldn’t help but wonder what other things his own pillow had witnessed while he was away. “I’ve gotta go in there,” he said, speaking as much to himself as to his children.

“What about us, Dad?” Becky asked, getting to her feet, her knees straightening out painfully.

“Fuck, I never knew mom was so hot!” Tom panted, putting his spent cock away. Jim ignored his son’s comment and addressed his daughter. “I think we need to have a family conference. Since I now know that it wasn’t your mother’s head that was bothering her tonight, I think this might be a good time for us all to talk.”

“Should we come with you then?” Becky asked sincerely.

Jim thought for a minute. “No,” he said, “you wait here and when I call you, come running. Your mother won’t say no to me tonight, not after what we just saw. Now give me a kiss for luck.”

Becky got up on her tip-toes and pecked her father on the cheek.

“Thanks hon,” he said, giving her ass a squeeze. “And thanks for the blow-job.” With that he left his children standing in the alley and started in toward the house. Just as he disappeared around the corner, Tom and Becky saw their mother reach over for the bedside lamp and then the bedroom went dark.

[icarusignite]

Hey,

Perhaps the second part could be about telling their parents that they want to marry each other and that the other women are told that he has chosen a Wife. Maybe Alicent and Otto has something against it. It would be cool to find out where all the letters went. Maybe Otto noticed how well his grandson and the reader understand each other and since he doesn't like Rhaenyra and her children, he ordered when the letters arrive in Oldtown to have them removed or something. Maybe the reader and Daeron could argue because she tells him that Alicent and Otto have always had something against her and her family but Daeron doesn't want to believe it because he loves his family. I just love drama. He could also says to her in anger that she and her brothers are illegitimate children, maybe he also says that in front of other people. But he wouldn't apologize at first and that makes her angry or something. But of course you can decide, it's just an idea.🫶🫶

I love your writing ❤️

Your reader ☺️

Like an old melody, my heart resumes | Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: So sorry this took a while. You asked for drama so here we are. I was listening to cinnamon girl while writing this so you can blame miss lana for the angst lol. Hope you enjoy <3

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Daeron x Fem! Reader | (angst, hurt/no-comfort)

When you and Daeron entered the main hall again, your fingers were entwined, and everyone could see the shift in your attitudes toward each other. It was evident by the smiles you kept sneaking each other.

"Are we going to tell them right now?" you mumbled nervously.

"Well, we have to so that these lovely ladies who have been gathered here don't hold out too much hope. After all, I am now a man spoken for," Daeron squeezed your hand, shooting you a wink.

"Yeah...but what if...,"

Daeron clicked his tongue, "No more what-ifs, my love. You're mine now, and I'm never letting you go."

A laugh burst out of you.

Approaching the grand table, Daeron's gaze sought out his father, King Viserys, who met his son's eyes with a curious smile.

"Father," Daeron inclined his head to show reverence.

"So my son, have any of the young ladies tonight captured your eye," King Viserys eyed your hand clasped in his son's.

Daeron took a deep breath, his voice filled with unwavering resolve, "My King, Lady Mother, I have chosen my bride, the one who has captured my heart."

Then he spoke your name, the syllables dancing upon his tongue, heavy with familiarity and tenderness. Your name was at home on his lips, in his heart.

The king's eyes twinkled with a mix of pride and affection as he sat up straighter, "Is that so?"

"Yes, sire."

King Viserys turned to you then, "And you, my dear, do you willingly accept this union?"

You turned slightly red, a fact that Daeron found adorable as he snuck a glance at you.

"Yes, Grandsire, I accept."

Queen Alicent, seated beside him, raised her eyebrows in surprise at the admission, but she smiled nonetheless, sharing a fond look with Rhaenyra at the thought of their children betrothed. However, Otto Hightowe'rs face immediately darkened at the news.

King Viserys, aware of the tension in the room, rose from his seat, his eyes fixed on the crowd.

"Lords and ladies, esteemed guests, I have joyous news to share! My son, Prince Daeron Targaryen, has chosen his bride, and I am delighted to announce their betrothal."

A collective murmur rippled through the crowd, curiosity and excitement filling the place. Then the hall erupted in a chorus of applause and congratulatory cheers, the sound echoing off the grand walls. Daeron exchanged a giddy smile with you, his eyes gleaming with happiness and relief, hand squeezing yours impossibly tighter. There was a bit of disappointed muttering from the various noble ladies who had hoped to ally themselves with the young Targaryen prince, but that didn't stop you from feeling safe within his hold.

King Viserys addressed the crowd once again, his voice carrying the weight of authority and affection, "Let it be known that Daeron Targaryen shall be united in marriage with my beloved granddaughter. May their union bring prosperity and happiness to our noble house."

Alicent, a radiant smile adorning her face, stood beside the king, nodding in approval. Rhaenyra, overcome with joy, moved to hug you tightly, her eyes glistening with tears of happiness. Then she turned her attention to your betrothed whom she embraced just as affectionately. Your father on the other hand surveyed everyone's expressions and when he saw Otto's menacing glare aimed toward you, his jaw tightened, his grip on his goblet growing tighter as his eyes followed your movements protectively.

The rest of the evening wore on uneventfully. Although disappointed at their failure at securing a betrothal for themselves, the nobles were still eager to offer up their congratulations and remain on the king's good side. Eventually, as the hour grew late and the revelry began to subside as everyone retired to their respective chambers. You bid Daeron a tender farewell, still reminiscing about the dance you had shared only a short while ago, your first as his betrothed.

When you finally made your way to your chambers, tucked beneath the covers of your bed, you traced your fingers along your lips, still tingling from the kiss you had shared with your beloved earlier. Thoughts of Daeron filled your mind, and you couldn't help but smile in the darkness, feeling a little giddy.

You woke up the next morning, heart fluttering with excitement, eager to see Daeron once more. Your steps were light as you made your way through the corridors of the Red Keep, mind filled with plans of walking to breakfast with your beloved, relishing every moment spent in his company.

As you neared the entrance to the corridor leading to Daeron's chambers, a hushed commotion caught your attention. Curiosity tugged, and you couldn't resist the temptation to investigate. You tiptoed closer, careful not to draw attention to yourself, and discovered a partially open door through which voices drifted.

Peering through the crack, your eyes widened as you saw Otto Hightower, his normally composed demeanour shattered, engaged in a heated argument with his nephew, Lord Ormund Hightower. Their voices clashed in a crescendo of anger and frustration.

"Did you not do as you were told!" he bellowed.

"I did exactly as you said, Uncle. You told me to ensure that Daeron never got a single letter from Rhaenyra's bastard and I did. Do not blame me for your failed plans," Ormund returned just as heatedly.

"I did what I thought was best for the family. Daeron was supposed to focus on his duties, not be distracted by the words of that whore's daughter, and now all my efforts have gone to waste."

"The fault is yours. You could not keep an eye on him when he was right in front of you. For all the years he resided with me, he believed she had forgotten him, abandoned him in his absence."

"By the gods, how did this happen? How are they betrothed if you did as I commanded? Everything is ruined now."

You flinched at his words, eyes welling with tears. You quietly retreated from the door, footsteps echoing through the corridor as you grappled with your conflicting emotions. The letters you had poured your heart and soul into had been intentionally intercepted and it broke your heart to think of how hurt Daeron must have been in thinking that you had abandoned him. You made your way to breakfast alone, forgoing your initial plans.

As the breakfast hall buzzed with the clatter of utensils and the hum of conversations, your normally vibrant presence seemed muted. Even Daeron couldn't help but notice the change in your demeanour. Your eyes, which sparkled with joy the night before, now seemed dull.

Concern etched his features as he took a seat beside you near the end when the room had mostly cleared. Leaning closer, he whispered softly, "Is everything alright? You seem distant, not at all like yourself this morning."

You forced a smile, gaze momentarily flickering to meet his concerned eyes, "It is nothing. Just a restless night, I suppose. My mind has been preoccupied."

"You know you can tell me what's bothering you right."

"Yes. I know."

"Then what's wrong?"

You swallowed nervously, "Perhaps we might go somewhere else to speak of this. Away from prying eyes?"

"Of course. Anything."

As you both made your way to a more secluded corner of the space, your mind raced to figure out how you would tell him what you had found out earlier that morning. You wondered if you should even tell him but it was important that he knew the truth. That he knew that you would never have abandoned him willingly.

"So," Daeron raised an expectant eyebrow at you, his smile encouraging. "What's on your mind love?"

You took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact, and he stepped closer, finger brushing against your chin to tilt it up, meeting your gaze with unwavering intensity.

"I-uhm-there's something I need to tell you, about-uhm..."

"Go on."

"Right, yeah. So remember those letters I sent you, all those years you were in Oldtown?"

Daeron's expression shifted from concern to confusion, "Is this about the letters again? I am sorry for not responding to them, but I swear I never received them."

"Yeah, I know. I know you didn't receive them. That's what this is...I need to tell you something about your family?"

"My family? What about them?"

"The King's Hand, and Lord Ormund too."

"What do they have to do with the letters?"

"Lord Ormund intentionally kept them from you. He made sure that word from me never reached you. And it was under the orders of your grandfather."

Daeron's brows furrowed in disbelief, "You can't be serious. They would never conspire against us like that, against me. They love me. Lord Ormund is like a father to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, frustration mingling with your determination to speak the truth now that it was out.

"I know it's hard to believe, but I swear I overheard them arguing this morning. They admitted to intercepting my letters to you, leaving you to believe I had forgotten about you."

"That's not possible. They wouldn't do that to me."

"But-but...I heard them with my own ears."

Daeron pulled away from you, his warmth leaving your side as he paced the room, running his hands through his hair in aggravation, "Well, you must be mistaken then."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I-no...I don't know. All I know is that you must be mistaken. You have to be."

"Daeron, I'm not lying! I heard it with my own ears," the words stuck in your throat as you struggled to choke them out.

"Enough!" he thundered, his voice echoing. "I will not stand for any more slander against my family."

You flinched at the harshness of his tone and your lower lip trembled with the effort to keep the tears at bay, "I thought you trusted me."

"Not when you make up such preposterous lies and insult my family's honour!"

"There is no honour in keeping things from those you love. And I am not lying!"

"I will not listen to these baseless accusations, not from the likes of you!"

"And what's that supposed to mean? The likes of me?"

Daeron's expression hardened, his face reddening and his voice laced with frustration, "A bastard like you! What would you know about honour? What would anybody in your family know about honour, whores and bastards the lot of you!"

His words hung heavy in the air, silence enveloping the both of you as you simply stared at each other. The space the two of you occupied was not as concealed as you had first believed and several servants who were milling about stopped short at his declaration. The tears would not stay back, and now they ran freely down your face. Daeron winced at the sight of them, instinctively stepping forward as if wanting to comfort you. He raised his hands and then clenched them into fists before forcing them back to his side. You wrapped your arms around yourself as if to hold yourself together, to stop your heart from falling to pieces inside your chest.

"How could you...?"

"Listen-I..."

"No. No, I have heard enough," you gave him a tight smile. "I am glad you were honest enough to tell me what you really thought of me and my family. I appreciate it."

"That's not what I-"

"I am not finished...If that is how you really feel, perhaps I am not the person you should be marrying."

"What are you saying?" Daeron's voice was barely above a whisper.

"I am saying that you would not want me to taint your noble, honourable family's bloodline with my bastard-whore blood, now would you?" you let out a breathy chuckle. "Surely some of the ladies from last night's feast are still here, perhaps you might go visit your father and tell him that you would like to be betrothed to one of them instead."

You scrubbed your own tears off your face aggressively, taking in a deep breath. Daeron stepped toward you once more and this time you let him.

"Why would you say that?"

"And why would you say what you just did? Perhaps we both decided to let the truth of how we feel out this morning," you shrugged.

"That's not-" he sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You are the one who started it. You are the one who came in here with your stupid petty arguments and accusations. I get it, you're upset that I didn't reply to your letters but blaming Lord Ormund for intercepting them is low, even for you."

"That's what you think this is about? That I'm upset with you for not responding so I'm making up lies to hurt you. Daeron, the last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt you, especially when I knew that you never could have gotten my letters. I just wanted to tell you so you didn't think I had abandoned you!" your voice came out broken and jagged. 

"It still doesn't excuse the fact that you're blaming my family for something they didn't do!"

"I just-"

"Gods, I wish that you hadn't written to me. Maybe it would've been better if you really had abandoned all thoughts of me. I would have been better off without you and your lies!"

Daeron watched in horror as the words tumbled from his mouth. It was like watching himself in the third person. The person who was saying all these hurtful things to you, the one who was responsible for the startled hurt in your eyes, was a foreigner to him. His mind screamed at him to shut up, to stop speaking the awful things that kept falling from his lips as your expression grew more fragile. You had just told him that perhaps he should marry someone else and he was still insulting you instead of trying to make it better. 

Why would I wish to be married to someone else? I am already betrothed to you. I don't want anyone else. I am sorry. Gods, I am so sorry. It just slipped out, and I-that is no excuse. I know it is no excuse but I am truly so sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it.

Those were the words that rattled through his brain, the words he really wanted to say but the demon of cruelty had fully possessed him now and it was too late to halt its rampage or salvage the wreckage it had caused. To your credit, you let him finish his spiel and then watched him for a few more moments as he stood silently, waiting for your response, chest heaving with emotion.

"Say something already," he snapped.

Or maybe to you, it felt like a snap, because in his mind, he was still pleading with you. 

You slapped him. His hand flew up to cradle his injured cheek, looking at you with tears in his eyes. There was something satisfying about that. About the way his cheek reddened and you swore you could see his heart breaking in the forlorn way he looked at you. Yes, it was satisfying indeed, after he had fully trodden on your heart moments ago with his heel.

"You called my mother a whore. You. Called. Me. A. Bastard. You called my siblings bastards," you punctuated each word with a stab to his chest with your finger and he flinched every time. "Maybe I should never have written to you after all."

"What?"

"You heard me. Perhaps you truly are better off without me and I without you. Perhaps we are not meant for a life together."

Daeron's lips turned downward and he nodded stiffly, "If that is how you really feel."

"It is clearly how you feel."

Something in his eyes screamed out an apology, something that you recognized because your next words addressed his unspoken apology and felt like they would crack his heart open and carve the marrow from his bones. 

"I won't forgive you," you stated resolutely. "I will never forgive you. I fucking hate you and I never want to see you again."

Filled with equal parts fury and grief, you turned away, tears silently tracing a path down your cheeks. Several nobles gawked at you as you sped past them, blinking away your anguish. You knew the two of you had certainly made a scene and news travelled fast in the Red Keep. It would not be long before everyone will have heard of this spectacle and your broken betrothal would be the most talked of scandal for a long time to come. 

You heard Daeron call out your name after you once more as your steps increased their pace, and with an aching heart you realized, your name no longer had a home on his lips. 

#house of the dragon #daeron x reader #daeron targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd daeron #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon #game of thrones #aemond imagine #daeron the daring #aegon targaryen x you #aegon x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #angst #hotd angst #lucerys valeryon

[hanilessa]

Hiiii can i rq a platonic tartaglia with a child!reader. like imagine the fatui kill her parents cause they were in debt and try to kill her too so she runs and while she’s running she bumps into tartaglia? tyy

i feel like tartaglia would protect her cause she wasn’t at fault for the debt

` Author’s notes: hii, darling! thanks for your request <3 i'm sorry i kept you waiting. i hope you enjoy reading!!

` Characters: Childe, fem!reader

` Warnings: mention of cruelty

You were completely lost. Feeling like a small and powerless person in this cruel and frightening world was completely unbearable. You trembled as you hid behind large wooden boxes, sincerely hoping no one would find you here.

The furious downpour darkened your thoughts even more, the cold water hit your fragile body like a whip, making you tremble with cold and fear. You didn't know where to go. Thoughts tangled like a ball of yarn, you looked around in the hope of finding at least someone who could help you.

With bare feet you walked along the cold stone of the road, and sharp stones dug into your small legs. It was hard, painful and scary, but you promised your parents that you would survive, no matter what.

You should have moved very quietly, because the Fatui followed you from your home to the port to demand that you pay the debts that your family had.

You were still a young child, and you couldn't earn money yourself. The only thing you could do was steal bread and fruit from the market while the merchants were distracted by other customers. Therefore, you had nothing to pay them.

Sniffing, you carefully made your way through the narrow passage, heading for the rescue ships, which will probably take you to a place where you can start a new life. Heavy drops hit your face, mixing with salty tears, and this makes it very difficult for you to move forward, but you try not to give up.

You catch a glimpse of the ship's mast and a sigh of relief escapes your lips as you make one last dash to run up to the ship, when suddenly your arm is grabbed and roughly pulled back.

A frightened scream escapes your throat as a Fatui soldier, grinning wryly, unceremoniously lifts you off the ground.

"Gotcha!" Fear crawls through your body like a snake that coils around your neck, blocking access to saving oxygen.

You try to resist, squirming in the strong grip of a soldier, but your strength isn't enough to resist an adult trained man. You're just a child after all.

"Please…" Tears flowed from your eyes in streams, all your strength gradually dried up. "Let me go…"

"You must pay your price." The soldier answered you and took out his weapon, but he was interrupted by an explosion of the hydro element, which knocked the weapon out of his hands.

It was very unexpected, so the taken aback a soldier loosened his grip, and you fell to the hard ground, painfully hitting a stone.

"It's you who must be the ones who will pay the price." A menacing voice was heard from the side, and you gathered your last strength to raise your head and see who was your savior.

Not far from you stood a man in gray clothes with a red mask on his face. His ginger, wet hair swayed in the wind, and this set him apart from the gray and gloominess. You clenched your fists in fear.

"S-sir?" The soldiers stepped aside in fright, moving away from you at a decent distance.

An unfamiliar man with a mask on his face pointed his bow at the soldiers and said, "You have a minute to disappear from my sight, or you will be the next to experience the power of my bow."

The Fatui soldiers trembled and hurried to obey the commander's order, and you could watch them scatter headlong in different directions. When all the voices and steps finally subsided, you turned around in fear to an unfamiliar man who was slowly approaching you.

You tried to crawl away, scared and trembling, but you ran into a stone wall. There was nowhere to run. When the man noticed your actions, he tried to calm you down, letting you know that you no longer need to be afraid.

"Hey, darling, you have nothing to fear anymore." He removed the red mask from his face and you could look into his eyes. The blue azure of his eyes met you with incredible tenderness, and for the first time in a long time you were able to feel some relief.

The man held out his hand to you, and with slight hesitation you put your small palm into his strong hand.

"Let's go, I must feed you well."

#tartaglia x reader #childe x y/n #childe x reader #tartaglia x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #tartaglia imagines #childe x you #childe imagines #tartaglia x you #genshin men x reader #genshin men #genshin impact imagines

[obxone]

Vigilante Shit (Chapter Nine)

Edited-ish. ~2.7k words

Tag list: @fishingirl12 @gillybear17 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gills-lounge @emmafitzzz @redfieldfx @baby19sthings

Masterpage

“Gotta say, this is the first time I’ve seen Mav show up to a party with a date,” Kelce chuckles, throwing his arm around Mav’s shoulders after you both push through the small crowd blocking off the living room.

Your eyes cut across the room, landing on Rafe, and he smirks at you over the rim of his cup before his gaze shifts down to your hand in Mav’s. His gaze flickers away, his trademark smirk gone in a flash. Top notices the change in him as he claps him on the shoulder and murmurs in his ear about something.

Meanwhile, Mav is rolling his eyes and shoving Kelce away. “Get used to it. She’s going to be at every single one now. I don’t plan on ever being at any of these without her.”

You smile brightly at him and lean into his side, offering a quick peck to his jaw. He grins, tightening his hand on yours.

“Then get the pretty girl something to drink!” Kelce winks at you playfully, and you shake your head at him while holding back a laugh at his playful demeanor. “Anything you could want is in the kitchen. James’s parents stay stocked!”

“Perfect!” Mav grins at him before leading you towards the direction you are guessing is the kitchen. You cling to his hand but look for a familiar face or two. Natalie and Reese are nowhere in the crowd so far. Mav had promised they would be here, so you wait patiently for the cavalry to arrive. You help him mix two drinks before you both carry your cups out onto the covered back porch. His arm is around your waist as he greets his friends who are present. Fingers sliding under your shirt to brush your exposed hip.

Ben fist bumps you, and you laugh at your little tradition that is forming. He grins at you before glancing at Mav. “How’d that new board turn out?”

“Perfect,” Mav grins, launching into bragging about his new sponsored board as you let your gaze drift around the party. Top barrels out onto the patio, a mischievous smirk on his face, and your heart sinks a little at the sight when he spots you. Triumph glitters in his eyes as he nears.

“Let’s play a game!” Top grins, throwing his arm around Ben’s shoulders and leaning closer to you. You can smell the alcohol on his breath with ease. Wordlessly, Mav shifts to put you behind him slightly and away from the intoxicated kook.

“What are we five?” Natalie asks from behind you. Her hand brushes your back as she steps into your line of sight. You relax more. You would be safe if Topper stayed outnumbered.

Her head cocks to the side as she evaluates him with a hard gaze. “Top, do you need to be cut off?”

Topper rolls his eyes and turns away from her to Ben. His index finger jabbs into Ben’s chest, and his drink sloshes slightly in the cup he holds. “You game?”

“Sure.” Ben shrugs, not ready to be in a screaming match with anyone tonight over a stupid drunk game.

Natalie rolls her eyes before smiling at you. “We can do something else.”

“No, no, no,” Topper rushes, leaning towards you both again. “We need pretty girls for the game to work.”

Mav’s attention snaps to Topper now. His eyes darkened at the implication behind Topper’s words. Top’s usual golden boy façade is not fooling your boyfriend or friends for even a second.

“A truth or dare with a spin-the-bottle twist.” Topper shrugs, slurring his words slightly. “Or are you too afraid, Maybank?”

You smile at him as politely as you can. “I have someone to kiss anytime I want, Thornton, I don’t need to bring up a childish game to get some action like you.”

Topper rolls his eyes, but Mav’s lips press to your temple while he smirks at the blond kook.

“Come to think of it…” Natalie begins, leaning back into Reese’s chest as she grows bold. “All of us are in a relationship… so bother someone else.”

“What? Afraid you’ll like kissing Topper more than Reese?” Rafe asks over the rim of his cup as he steps into your growing circle. “Like you did with Ben, who isn’t in a relationship and agreed to play.”

“Low blow, Cameron,” Reese glares at him. “Don’t make me go lower.”

“Reese,” Mav warns, his hold on you shifting to pull you into his chest.

Reese rolls his eyes before letting his gaze flicker to you. A wordless apology already reflecting for you. You shrug telling him it is already forgiven before nuzzling into Mav’s chest, arms around his waist to hold yourself close to him.

“Just play the game,” Rafe continues despite the clear tension strung between the small group. Ben shifts, his body moving closer to you and Mav as he stares at the trouble-making pair. “Unless you are both worried that you’ll lose your girls in one night.”

Mav rolls his eyes, ignoring the baiting comment.

“We can even make a fun wager.”

“Like what?” Reese asks Rafe despite Natalie shaking her head at him not to get involved.

Rafe grins, lowering his cup while his gaze locks on you. You fight down the urge to look away and hold his gaze.

“The first team to bow out loses has their girls caddy for the winners Sunday during the golf tournament.”

You swallow, hand tightening on the back of Mav’s shirt. Your heart rate picks up, and your gaze shifts to the floor.

“And you leave her alone at the Island Club,” Ben adds with a gruff tone, his thumb hitching in your direction. “No more bothering her.”

“Done.”

“Yes!” Topper grins before leading the way back into the house and into what you are sure is James’s dad's study. An empty wine bottle is tucked under his arm. You cling to Mav’s arm, hoping on all the stars this will not go as horribly as you feel it will.

“Say the word, and I end this,” Mav whispers in your ear.

You shake your head, tipping your head back to look at him. “And being either of their caddy girls, no thanks.”

He nods before pecking your lips, and you both find spots near but far enough away from each other that the odds of spinning on someone else dwindle a bit.

Natalie settles next to you, a sympathetic look in her eyes. You squeeze her arm and focus on the rules as Topper declares it is his made-up game.

Everyone is two or three dares in when the bottle lands on you for the second time, and Topper smirks at you, rubbing his hands in excitement. This is the chance he has been waiting for. Reese had taken it too easy on your first time.

“Maybank, I dare you to wear this tie as a blindfold as someone of my choosing makes out with you for one minute, and then you have to guess who kissed you or skip your turn to spin.”

You glare at him for a second, hands tightening on your knees. Your gaze flickers to Mav, and he is staring at Topper with a fire in his eyes.

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” Natalie mutters before turning to you. “You can skip the turn. No one will judge you for it.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Topper wags his finger at you. “No, skipping your turn, skipping only works if you get the guess wrong. You have to do the dare or lose the game.”

You huff before setting your shoulders back and lifting your chin. “Fine.”

Topper moves to blindfold you, but Natalie is quicker and yanks it out of his hand. Topper’s date of the night snickers briefly, but he shoots her a heated look, and she silences herself as Natalie quickly ties it around your head, blocking your view.

You can feel the pressure of the onlookers that have gathered as well as the players of the game. You inhale sharply when she helps you to your feet and walks you into the circle. The toe of your shoe hits the bottle as you try to focus on breathing through the threatening panic. You flinch, but Natalie squeezes your upper arms in reassurance before she lets you go and takes her spot back.

The soft rustle of clothing reaches you moments later before warm hands brush your hair back from your shoulders and fingers brush your jaw. You shiver, hands reaching forward to touch the warm body that is nearly pressing against you. You hope it is Mav, but the alcohol masks the cologne too much.

“Mav,” you whisper, voice shaking.

The soft press of lips meets yours, and you kiss back, hands fisting the soft cotton material of their shirt. It feels like Mav's shirt, but it is a polo, and almost all of them are wearing one tonight. The brush of his tongue against your lips has your breath hitching in your throat, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His hand cups your head as his tongue toys with yours. This is not Mav. This is someone else entirely.

The beeping of the timer comes both too late and all too soon as his touch completely disappears, and you rip the blindfold away. Your cheeks heat as you look anywhere but at Mav.

“Guess,” Topper demands.

You swallow, eyes searching the faces of the various guys that are sitting around the circle. You feel the burn of his lips still and have to clear your throat before meeting Ben’s gaze. He is the safe bet, and you both know it, but the subtle shake of his head tells you that it is not him and you will lose your turn. The awkward moment settles in, and you decide you do not care if you lose a turn. You would not commit to kissing anyone else. For your sake and Mav's sake, Ben is the safe guess.

“Ben.”

“Wrong.”

You glare at Topper. “Then I lose my turn.”

He shrugs, pointing at your vacant spot. “So, have a seat.”

“I’m over this game,” Natalie mutters, glaring at the blond kook. “You got what you wanted, end the game, Topper.”

Topper laughs, leaning back on his hands as he stares at you and how close you are to panicking. “You’re right, I did. We’ll call it a draw until the next party.”

You do not listen to the protest as you immediately get to your feet and push your way out of the room. Tears burn as you rush down the hallway and into the half bathroom. Your chest heaving at the panic clawing inside of you. It felt like Mav’s stare is still burning into you, but you had been unable to meet his gaze.

The door opening pulls your attention. You look up into the mirror but freeze immediately. Rafe’s lean body wedges through the small gap before the door closes and is locked. He leans back against the wood and watches you in the mirror.

“It was you?” Your voice is barely a whisper, and it trembles.

He shrugs. “Thought you would know.”

You exhale, tearing your gaze from his to the porcelain sink. “I didn’t.”

He grunts but does not move or say anything else.

You shiver, skin prickling with what you have done. You squeeze your eyes shut against the betrayal flooding you. “You know…” you start, pressing your palms harshly against the marble counter. “Despite what you think, I never cheated. We were over long before I went to Barry’s bed, and this feels even worse than that did.”

He moves then, his body crowding against yours. “We weren’t though, Princess.”

Turning your chin, you look at him, trying to read him. “How come?”

“You know we weren’t.”

“We were. You ruined it, or do you not remember?”

Rafe swallows, his long fingers hooking under your chin. That gold signet ring catches the light and glitters in the mirror. “I ruined you, not us.”

You exhale, and he leans in. His mouth oh so close to yours once more.

“Want to know something?” His breath is warm against your face. “There are a lot of stupid things to do at a party like this, but I really want to do the stupidest thing I can think of right now?”

“And what’s that?”

The silence lingers for a frustratingly long second, and he reacts by crashing his mouth down on yours. You kiss him back. The tame kiss in front of the others is unmatched by this one. It is searing hot, desperate like it will mend all the hateful history you share. It leaves you both breathless, and he does not pull away. He just kisses you with the same unchecked desperation that lingers under your skin. Your hands cling to his shoulder and fist the soft material of his shirt as he lifts you onto the counter. And that is how he knows you still want him, that you still ache for him.

“I’ve missed this.” His expression is serious, his forehead bumping against yours as he breathes in your perfume that is mixed with the fruity drink from earlier. You would never tell him, but the way his eyes soften slightly when he looks at you drives you insane still to this day. The way he looks at you is different from how he looks at everyone else, and you are convinced no one sees it but you. Your own little secret about the Cameron boy. “You knew it was me, I know you did.”

“You know I knew you weren’t Ben when we kissed?”

He smirks, dragging his thumb over the soft skin just above the hem of your jeans.

“Do you know why?” You ask, hand pressing to his chest, feeling his heart race under your touch. He stays silent, heaving for air as his eyes burn you to your core. “Not because of your height or your cologne. It was because you tasted like disaster. Like betrayal. You, Rafe Cameron, taste like everything I have ever wanted, but can never have.” You breathe, your own chest heaving as his hands grip your thighs, pulling your legs around him. “And it’s going to fucking destroy us.”

His mouth finds yours in a rush, and you moan into his mouth, hands pulling his polo shirt up and off his head. Years of unchecked history and bad endings drown out right from wrong as he claims you again. Your nails rake down his chest as he grinds his hips into yours.

“Rafe!”

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he groans against your jaw, lips trailing down to your neck. His teeth and lips are greedy as he sucks and nips at your skin. You push forward, grinding against him. You gasp, head falling back as he rips your top down, and his mouth claims your breast. “Look at you… Fuck Baby. All mine. No matter who you date, huh?”

Your blood runs cold, the reality of your situation slamming into you at full force. Mav.

“Rafe, stop,” you rush, shoving at his chest. He releases the soft inside of your breast with a pop and stumbles backward, his mark already bruising your skin. “I’m a fucking idiot.” You mutter, hands pressing to your face after you cover yourself back up. Your body trembles while you try to collect yourself.

He nears again before you can react. His body presses against yours, and his hands brush yours away before he tips your chin back to look into your eyes as he speaks. “No matter what happens, part of you will always belong to me, Princess.”

“Rafe…”

“You know it, and I know it. Mav will know it too, one day.”

You nod, closing your eyes as a tear rolls down your cheek. “Please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t. But you will have to one day.”

Then he is gone within seconds, the bathroom door clicking shut, and you slump back against the mirror, embarrassment flooding you.

(Chapter Ten)

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x maybanksibling!

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 10: Pity Party

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1, ...(Masterlist)... Part 11

A/N: Oh hell yea! For those looking at the updates you know we are about to get some more Billy interaction! I hope you guys like it! Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be added to the tag list.

Word Count: 2,243

Warnings: Descriptions of vomit, anxiety, smoking

The vomit stings your nose and throat, bringing even more tears to your eyes. You heave again, spilling the contents of your stomach onto the grass. It smells like the drinks Nancy had been handing you all night, mixed with something acidic, putrid. When your stomach is empty, you continue to heave, struggling to breath. It makes the muscles of your stomach ache with the strain. 

When your body finally settles, you push yourself away from the bile, landing on your butt. You scoot back until you feel your back hit the hard panelling of the house. You lean your head back, wishing the world would stop spinning. You still feel terrible, unfortunately, the sickness that remains with you has nothing to do with alcohol. 

“Your fault.” Nancy’s voice rings in your head. “Your fault… your fault… my fault… my fault…`` It repeats over and over again. You pinch our eyes shut, clasping your hands on either side of your head, like that will somehow muffle the voices in your mind. You can see her so clearly. The sadness, the anger, the rage in her eyes. All of it directed at you. 

As much as you wished her words were just empty insults, that they came from a drunk mind, that they weren't the thoughts rattling around your own mind. She was right. 

You were the reason Barb was dead and you are a coward who can’t even say her name, let alone see her parents. 

The words cut you deeply as soon as you think them. It physically hurts. You draw your knees into your chest, hoping that if you compress yourself enough, you can somehow hold yourself together. Fresh tears leak from your eyes, dripping onto your jeans as you hang your head forward against your knees. 

You wish you could disappear. That you could just fade away into nothing. To finally give in to the darkness. To let it take you in, swallow you whole, until you become a part of it. Anything would be better than this. You would do anything to get it to stop. 

“You look like shit…” a voice cuts off your line of thought before it can truly take hold. You make no move to look up at Billy, only able to see the toes of his boots as he stands next to you. The thought of him being here in one of your worst moments makes your insides twist. 

“An astute observation.” you bite back, hating the way your voice quivers. You hear Billy chuckle lightly and curse yourself for saying anything at all. You hug your knees tighter, preparing yourself for Billy’s scathing retort. You know that you’re a pitiful sight. Head hung, drunk, sick and crying curled up on the ground at a high school party. You fully expect Billy to comment about your abysmal state before returning to the party to inform his newfound pose. 

To your surprise, you feel him sink to the ground next to you. His shoulder is just barely touching yours but you can feel the heat coming off of him. You suddenly become aware of the chill in the late October air and find yourself wanting to sit closer to him. 

You don't. You’re frozen in your spot. Neither of you speak, the only sound between the two of you is the dull roar of the party and the click of Billy’s lighter as he lights a cigarette. You wonder what he could possibly gain from sitting here with you. You are on the darkened side of the house, no one is around to impress, it doesn't make sense. You come to the conclusion that the answer is nothing. He gets nothing out of being here in the dark with you, sharing silence. 

Finally, you hear Billy chuckle lightly next to you. 

“I remember the first time I got sick from drinking.” He muses. “I still can’t stand the smell of tequila because of it.” He goes on. You remain silent but lift your head slightly to glance at him. His head is leaned back against the house, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he gazes at the night sky. There is a slight smile on his lips at the memory. 

He turns his head towards you, his eyes catching sight of your tear soaked face. His smile is gone and he looks away as you do the same. After another beat of silence he speaks again. 

“But I have to say, crying over a guy? It's very ‘stereotypical teenage girl’ of you, loca.” He comments, shaking his head. His words confuse you for a moment. 

“What are you talking about?” You mumble, trying to wipe at your face with the sleeve of your t-shirt.

“I’m just saying,” he says, shrugging. “Crying over a pretty boy like Harrington. I didn’t take you for that type.” You only grow more confused. Billy thinks you're upset because of Steve? Billy chuckles to himself, his wolfish grin returning. “You ran after him like a little schoolgirl when you heard his girl was upset with him.” It starts to become clear what Billy is getting at. 

He thinks that you’re upset because you are in love with Steve or something. Like this is some sappy romantic drama. And the way Billy is convinced that he’s right has you outright laughing, spitefully. 

“Yup! You’ve got me all figured out! Boy! Am I really that transparent?” You say, sarcasm dripping from every word. Billy’s eyes cut to you, his brows drawing together. You roll your eyes. It’s hilarious to think that all of this could be over just a boy. You would be so lucky, if only it were that mundane. 

“Alright, smartass, what’s it about then?” He asks, taking another drag off his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in your direction. It stings your eyes and you look away, the sick feeling returning. Whatever amusement you found in Billy’s misinterpretation of the situation is gone as the reality of it falls over you once again. You run a shaky hand through your hair, trying to think of what to say. And how to say it to not sound insane. 

“It’s my friend…” You say, struggling to keep your voice steady. You pause looking at the dirt caked under your fingernails, picking at it to distract yourself as you continue. “I-uh-I really fucked up.” you oversimplify. “And now she hates me and…” your vision blurs with fresh tears “and I don’t blame her because-” you cut yourself off but the words still echo in your mind:

‘Because I hate me too…’

“Fuck that!” Billy snaps, as if he heard your thoughts. Your head snaps over to look at him. His eyes are already on you, and he looks upset. Not specifically mad at you, just angry. 

“What?” you ask, confused by his sudden anger. He shakes his head, a curl of blonde hair falling into his face as he looks at the cigarette between his fingers, before flicking it away into the grass. 

“It’s fucking stupid to let someone else’s opinion of you dictate the way you feel.” He says firmly. It’s a surprisingly insightful statement and even more surprising to have come from someone like Billy. A small part of you wishes that you were sober enough to truly appreciate it. “I say ‘Fuck em’!” 

That sounds more on brand for him. 

You seriously ponder his words for a moment. How can you completely write off what Nancy had said, when they were the thoughts that haunt your own mind. It wasn’t her opinion of you that was making you feel this way. It was the fact that she had spoken the truth you were too scared to face. 

You deserve this. 

“You don’t get it.” You mumble, hugging your knees tighter to your chest, glancing up at the night sky. You hear Billy huff and shift next to you. 

“Yea, maybe I don’t. But, I know one thing…” He pauses, watching you. “Crying about it is fucking pathetic.” His words are like a slap. Your eyes cut to him as he takes out another cigarette, lighting it causally. 

“Fuck you.” you grumble, turning away again.

“You wish, loca.” He shoots back. “You’re being a fucking baby. Nothing ever changes in the world because some bitch is crying about it.” He goes on. You try to ignore his words, feeling your skin prickle with anger. 

What were you supposed to do? Nothing was going to change what had happened. Your life and the lives of everyone you care about has forever been altered. If Billy has a solution for that, you are all ears. He didn’t know shit. 

You try to stand, shoving yourself roughly off the ground, planning on walking away. Unfortunately, the rush of movement has your head spinning. You stumble forward, but before you fall, Billy’s arms wrap around you, steadying you. You’re pressed against him for a moment and this close you can smell the alcohol mixed with cigarettes. But under it all… his cologne. 

“Jesus, you’re a fucking mess.” He taunts, smirking down at you. As you gain your bearings, you shove his arms away from you, placing a palm against his bare chest to push him away. The hard muscle under your hand doesn't move an inch, so you step back instead. 

“I don't need you to tell me that.” you say, glaring up at him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t like hanging out with people that are mean to me.” you say, moving to walk past him. His hand quickly reaches out and grabs your bicep as you pass, stopping you. He leans in close, his face only inches from yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, his eyes locking intensely on yours. 

“Really?” He asks, his smirk growing, flashing his white teeth. “Sounds to me like you do, loca.” he says, condescendingly. The anger prickling at you skin, flares in your chest, pumping through your veins. All this bickering with Billy is pointless. You don't have the energy or time for it. All you want to do is leave this stupid party that you shouldnt have come to in the first place. 

You look down at where his hand is wrapped around your arm. His hand is large and in the dim light you can see the scars that litter his knuckles. You notice his grip loosen slight but still remains firmly in place. 

“It sounds like you're just feeling sorry for yourself. Throwing yourself a fucking pity party.” He says, his eyes searching your face. 

“Let go.” you say, keeping your head down.

“You’re just going to roll over? Is that it? Let them walk all fucking over you?” he continues, his voice raising slightly. “You let them treat you like shit, then what? You just cry about it?!” 

“Let go, I’m leaving.” you say again, louder. You can feel the anger rising up in your chest as he talks down to you.

“You’re fucking pathetic!” That’s it. You feel the damn break inside you. Anger washes though you like a flood.

“God! Just leave me alone!” you yell, roughly shoving his hand off of you. “I’m having a pretty terrible night and the last thing I need is life advice from some jerk?” you can feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, but you can't be bothered, too focused on Billy. “It’s so easy for you to stand there and judge me! To stand outside and give me shit! It’s so simple, right?!” You’re yelling now, watching as Billy looks shocked for a moment before his stoic mask slips back into place. 

“If you think you can do a better job managing my life, you go right ahead! Take it! I don’t want it!” Your breathing is ragged, your whole body shaking with rage when you finish. Billy’s eyes remain on your face, studying you calmly. There is a pregnant pause between the two of you. You become aware of the angry tears pouring from your eyes and you wipe at them spitefully with the back of your hand. You hate that you cry when you get angry and you especially hate that Billy gets to see that. 

“Good.” He finally says. You look at him, angry and confused. Seeing your look he smirks. “Being pissed off is better than sitting around crying about it.” he says smugly, nodding. “Focus on the anger next time, instead of letting them get to you.” You’re amazed to find that he is watching you with something akin to pride. It makes your stomach twist. He had been saying those things to get you angry, on purpose. To get a reaction. And you had given him exactly what he wanted. 

The way he is watching you now, like he did you a favour. Like you should be thanking him. It makes you feel like a fool. 

“I’m leaving.” you say once more. 

“Let me drive you home.” He offers, reaching for you again.

“No.” you say tersely, taking a step back. Your eyes meet his, hoping he sees the hurt and seriousness in your words. “I need to be alone. Just…”  you pause, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Leave me alone, Billy.” You plead. 

You have to look away from the confusion in his face. 

He doesn't try to stop you when you walk away this time.

Part 1, ...(Masterlist)... Part 11

A/N: I hope you guys liked it! Billy doesn't really know how to act and his way to helping is... not ideal. He want's reader to deal with problems the only way he knows how to, which isn't going to work. Leave a like or a comment! You guys are amazing!

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[ashbrat488]

Candy - Chapter 14

Word Count: 1389

Cassidy wakes up between Lloyd and August...

MINORS DNI

Cassidy woke up in the morning nestled between August's warm body and the soft snoring of Lloyd behind her. She shifted closer to August, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His eyes turned to her as she moved, and he greeted her with a soft, "Good morning."

Her voice was soft and contemplative as she asked a question that had been gnawing at her since the night they met at his Christmas party. "Why are you married if you just cheat on your wife with me... and other women?" The idea of being the 'other woman' bothered her more than she cared to admit. She had always known that most of her clients were married, but with August, it felt different, and it stirred feelings of jealousy she hadn't experienced before.

August turned to look at her, his expression thoughtful. "It's a marriage of convenience," he explained, his voice equally quiet. "I married her for the sake of my son. I grew up with divorced parents, always being shuffled around, and I didn't want that for my child."

"So you have an open relationship?" Cassidy probed, trying to understand the dynamics of his marriage.

August let out a low, somewhat ironic chuckle. "More like a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy. We didn't bother with a prenup, and if I left her, she'd get half of everything. So..." He trailed off, the complexity of his situation evident in his eyes.

Cassidy continued to press, her tone tinged with a mix of concern and curiosity. "So, you choose to stay and sleep around with other women? Do you really think that's a healthier environment for your son than just splitting up?"

August's jaw clenched, a sign that he was growing uncomfortable with the conversation. He shook his head slightly. "My son is not your concern. Now," he changed the subject swiftly, pulling her on top of him. She straddled him, her bare skin brushing against his, sending a shiver down both their spines. "Why do you ask? Are you jealous?"

Cassidy scoffed playfully, her hips beginning to move against his. "Jealous? Why on earth would I be?"

"Because there is something here between us, doll... That's why you should stop seeing all other clients and let me take care of you."

"Oh?" She teased his cock, now hard under her with her hands on his chest. "Are you jealous?"

"Fuck yes I am," he admitted freely, grabbing her hips as he glided her pussy over him. "I want you all to myself. Lloyd is lucky he's my friend, or else I would have killed him last night." He reached down between them and grabbed the base of his cock to tease her entrance. "Now tell me you're jealous, doll."

Cassidy could feel the heat building between them as she slowly lowered herself onto his cock, but he halted her descent with a firm grip.

"You can't deny it, Cassidy," August whispered, his voice a blend of desire and challenge that sent shivers down her spine.

"I'm not..." Her voice trembled as he guided her down onto his cock, a moan escaping her lips as pleasure surged through her.

"Liar." August's grip on her hips tightened as he continued to orchestrate their passionate rhythm. He drew closer, his heated breath tantalizing her ear. "Tell me you're jealous, Cassidy."

"August..." Her resistance crumbled with each commanding thrust, her voice reduced to a needy whimper as she surrendered to his dominance.

"Say it," he demanded, his tone thick with possessiveness and lust.

Cassidy's body undulated with pleasure as she rode August with increasing fervor. His words stoked the fire of her longing, and she felt her climax edging ever closer. "Yes," she gasped, her voice heavy with desire. "I'm jealous, August. I want you all to myself."

"Good girl." August's eyes darkened with desire as he watched her. With one hand still tangled in her hair, he seized her hip with the other and thrust into her with primal intensity, propelling her to the brink. Their lips met, their tongues entwining as he moved her against him. She quickened her pace, thrusting forcefully as she neared her release. "Come for me, doll. Make it yours."

With a trembling cry, she collapsed against him, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her body convulsed with pleasure as he tenderly traced his fingers along her back, their lips locking in a passionate kiss once more.

"That was fucking hot," Lloyd interjected beside them as August groaned.

"I forgot he was still here."

Cassidy giggled, leaning back up straight, still moving slowly on August's cock as her chest heaved. She watched Lloyd hop out of bed and open a bedside drawer before positioning himself behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Have you ever done anal, pumpkin spice?"

"Yes," she gasped out as she felt him push her onto August's chest before she felt the cold lube.

August stroked his fingers through her hair, lifting her chin to pull her lips to his to distract her. He felt her tense before whimpering into his mouth as he felt her pussy clench around him and knew that Lloyd had begun to push his way into her. "Relax," he whispered as she nodded, swallowing down a moan.

"Fuuuck," she whimpered as Lloyd eased his way into her ass. "Fuck." She relaxed, letting her body become accustomed to the feeling as August moaned low in his throat.

Lloyd gave a short thrust before withdrawing, only to slide his cock back inside. Her breath hitched as he started to pump into her, stretching her opening to accept his length.

"Like that, pumpkin spice?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Lloyd began to increase the speed of his strokes, speeding up as August began to pump into her at the same time.

Her hands gripped the bedsheet on either side of August's head as he held her firmly against his chest. Each thrust seemed to send another jolt of pleasure coursing through her body as her juices dripped from her.

She leaned back to look at August and found him staring at her with an intensity she'd never seen before. It caused her heart to skip a beat and made her quiver with anticipation. He grinned as she met his gaze and smiled. "This feels good," she admitted, biting her lip to hold back a moan as Lloyd increased the speed of his strokes. "Don't stop..."

"I'm gonna fill your fucking pussy, doll," he told her with a smirk as he thrust into her.

"Ahhh..." She bit her lip to keep from crying out as another orgasm built up inside her. The feeling was so intense, her body trembling as her climax washed over her.

"Yes..." she cried out, clawing desperately at the sheets as her body seized up. The feeling lingered long after the waves had faded and both men stayed inside her, slowing after filling her.

Lloyd pulled away slowly before collapsing onto the bed beside them. August kept Cassidy on his chest, lifting her chin to gaze into her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she panted with a smile. "Another bath would be nice though."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her lips before rolling her onto the bed beside Lloyd. "You got it."

As Cassidy stepped out of the bathtub, a hushed conversation between Lloyd and August caught her attention. She wrapped a blanket around herself and tiptoed to the slightly ajar bedroom door, straining to overhear their words.

"Why did you tell her we had a present for her? I told you that we weren't involving her in this," August's voice hissed, his irritation palpable.

Cassidy heard some rustling from the bedroom, which only piqued her curiosity further. She leaned in closer, trying to catch every word.

"And I told you that we should involve her. That she deserves to decide for herself."

"Well, I'm the one in charge."

Lloyd's exasperated sigh echoed in the room. "Oh, fuck off, August. Your ego is even bigger than mine. And what are we going to do about Joe?"

Cassidy couldn't help but peek through the crack in the door to see August resting his hands on his hips, deep in thought. "Show her the videos," he finally responded.

Cassidy could contain her curiosity no longer. She pushed the bedroom door open and stepped inside, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her. "Show me what videos? And what's my present?" Her eyes darted between the two men, her expression a mix of intrigue and confusion.

Chapter 15 Candy

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[tpwkluv]

it's the little things | s.h. x reader

Summary: Tina's infamous Halloween party leads to the revelation that your best friend is in love with you, and all of the implicit moments that led to it.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings/Tags: none?, fluffy, semi-angst, broken-hearted steve, friends to lovers, late night hang outs, some smoochin', no uses of Y/N, no descriptions of reader

A/N: hey... tumblr? (who am i supposed to address when I have no ST mutuals or followers T-T) i've missed writing, so i pumped out a little friends to lovers piece with my main squeeze, Steve Harrington. hopefully this makes someone's day brighter because i sure had a blast writing it. If you have any suggestions, want tagged in future pieces, have any requests, or are just looking for a friend: let me know! feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

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

Your best friend, Steve Harrington’s, moment of realization that he was in love with you was an unforgettable one. You’d gone through life together. The two of you almost joined to the hip ever since you showed up in Miss Miller’s 2nd grade class in a faded Scooby Doo t-shirt. After that, it was a jumbled mess of shared tapioca pudding when parents forgot to pack lunches, shared icees at the Shell gas station down the block, and late night talks on the phone when one of you were lonely. You’d been the one to console him when he scrapped a knee at the playground, and now you were the one to hold him after Nancy Wheeler broke his heart at Tina’s Halloween party.

“Steve, where are you going?” you ask, trying to speak loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough to keep the situation between you two. 

Furrowed brows and darkened eyes plaster his face as he walks out the front door. While his eyes were normally like that of golden boughs with moss hidden in the frost cracks, they appear now to be more like that of burnt umber. The man was not known to leave parties early. Especially when the booze was free, the music was loud, and his girlfriend was available to be shown off. Nancy may have not been popular, but their being together sure caused a whirlwind of eyes, and Steve was never one to turn down attention.

“Steve! Can you slow down?” you huff as you follow him, rushing towards the BMW. “You know, you’re my ride here, right?”

The dim street light glows just enough to show the solemn look on his face.“Yeah, yeah. I know,” he mutters. “Just get in the car so we can go, alright?”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Nancy? She kinda came wit—“

Steve’s irritation is becoming more apparent as he barely let you start speaking before interrupting, “No, she’s getting a ride from her boyfriend.” A mix of pain and anger dripping off the last word. “Now get in the car, or your walking home.”

“Boyfriend? Steve, what the hell are you talking about?” you query, tilting your head to the side with confusion. “You are her boyfriend? Apparently you snuck drinks when we weren’t looking.”

“Will you just get in the damn car?” Steve snaps. An apologetic look glazes over his eyes before turning from you and getting into the car. ‘We can talk about this later.”

Steve was never really quick to anger. Of course he was prone to outbursts of irritation. All that was needed was one smart comment from Dustin or Max, but to get a true rise of anger out of him? Well, you really had to push his buttons. As you fall into the passenger’s seat, however; it’s clear that Steve is more upset than you’d seen him in a while.

The furrowed brows, clenched jaw, and white knuckles on the steering wheel have now been replaced with a softer countenance. His eyes seem to return to their normal caramel state, now tinged with a hint of sadness. Confusion has taken the backseat in your mind and gives way to pangs of concern. You’ve never seen Steve so torn up. Not when Tommy H made fun of him for admitting he is supposed to wear glasses. Not back in middle school when he won you a stuffed panda at the county fair only for a larger teen to snatch it from you. And not even when his father had told him he was the biggest disappointment to ever happen in his life.

Turning to face Steve, you place your hand atop his, and ask, “Hey, do you want to talk about it? We don’t have to or anything. I just want you to know I’m here, okay?”

He stares down at the wheel before quietly answering, “I don’t wanna talk about it right now,” knuckles tightly gripping the wheel again as if what had happened was running through his mind all over again. “I don’t really want to be alone either though. Do you wanna come back to mine and do something? My parent's are still out on that trip in Tulsa.”

“Alright, how about we go to Aldi’s, get way too many snacks, and watch Footloose for the hundredth time? You, me, Kevin Bacon, the best movie soundtrack, and loads of sweets? I don’t think you could turn this down, Harrington.” You smile at him, holding out hope that at least a bit of humor and company can lift his spirits.

The smallest smirk began to form on his face as his hands relax. “Oh, now how could I ever turn that down, darlin’,” Steve answers, turning the car on and driving onto the street. Despite the light joke, the words were thrown together with a bittersweet tone.

Steve’s parents had left him with a sour taste on his tongue when it came to love. His parents were cold and distant. Not only with him, but also with each other. Mr. Harrington’s frequent work trips had almost always turned into affairs, which quickly lead the Mrs. accompanying him. Steve was often left with a weekly allowance for food and other necessities; however, the freedom of a teen with an empty house only held excitement for so long before the loneliness set in. This is when he would call you.

In middle school, it was a call followed up by a bike ride to the nearest park. You’d push Steve gently on the swing, and he’d vent about how his dick father left on another trip and won’t be back until god knows when. “Yeah, it’s cool at first to have a house all to yourself, but I don’t know,” he’d start, craning his neck to face you. “It just gets lonely after a while. That huge house and knowing no one was in the next room if I needed them. Hell, even if I wanted them.”

In high school, it was a call to invite you over for a party. Long nights of drinking anything you and your classmates could scrounge up, smoking out by the pool until the lights were hazy, and dancing way too close to music that was way too loud with people that were way too old to be at a high school party. Those were the nights when Steve was angry. The ones when he felt homesick, though? Those called for a night in with a classic movie, snacks, and late night talks about life.

The fluorescent lights of the Aldi’s parking lot pull you out of the past. The night is cool as you step out onto the pavement, your costume not doing much to shield you from the crisp autumn night. No one wears jackets with their costumes; especially not sexy camp counselors running from Jason Voorhees. The shutting of the car door breaks the quiet buzzing of the storefront’s LED sign, and you realize Steve is already walking towards the tanned brick building. Quickly following suit, you close your door and jog up to him. 

As you approach, he mindlessly pulls up his Levi’s causing the black blazer and t-shirt to lift slightly. You find yourself staring as a small breeze causes goosebumps to ghost across his freckle-bathed waist. Jeans hugging tight in all the right places, perfectly showcasing his long legs. Just because he’s your best friend doesn’t mean you don’t know beauty when you see it, and Steve Harrington is the epitome of effortless beauty. Despite the hair of course. That was a half hour process. Minimum.

“You gunna sit there and eye fuck me all night, or are we going to get some snacks?” Steve chuckles, the smirk on his face ever growing. You can feel your cheeks heat up from the sudden realization of being caught.

“Hey, it stared at me first. What’d ya do? Raid Billy’s closet for his tightest pair of blue jeans?” you shoot back with a raised eyebrow. Playful banter is one of the many staples of your friendship, and boy, oh boy, did you both put your all into it, on most occasions anyway. This one was just left with a soft chuckle followed by a “Fuck you.”

The automatic doors glide open to reveal the worn out linoleum floor marked with years of scuff marks and spills. You grab one of the blue baskets off the tower, and make your way through the aisles. You pause in front of the chip display, pondering which choice to go with.

“Pringles or Doritos?” you ask. “And if Doritos: sour cream and onion or nacho cheese?”

“Definitely nacho cheese,” he responds, grabbing the bag and walking further down the aisle. “I don’t want to have to smell your breath all night if we get the others.”

“Oh shut up, you ass. Newsflash, your breath would smell just as bad”

“Not even. I have never once had bad breath.”

“HA!”, you laugh, a smile planting itself on your face. “Someone clearly doesn’t remember first day of 6th grade when we met at the bus stop and you literally made Melissa puke because you didn’t brush your teeth for most of the summer.”

Steve turns on his heels to face you, his face pragmatic and unmoving as he quietly responds, “I told you to never bring that up again.” He pauses, and starts walking back towards you before continuing, “I will get on this intercom and tell all of these shoppers about how you shit your pants walking home, last year.”

The smile falls from your face. “Don’t you even dare, Steve,” you growl, “That’s not fair and you know it. I was sick! You were just a teenage boy.”

Steve starts walking towards the sweets while chuckling to himself “Yeah, but they don’t know that.” He turns back to see you still standing there staring at him with a stunned look on your face. “You know I won’t do that,” he reveals grabbing your hand, “Come on, we’ve got some candy to pick out.”

You soon head back to the car with a bag of Doritos, Razzles, Starburst, and Miller Lite. Steve’s charm is good for some things; like never being carded. Well, at least when it was a middle-aged woman working the checkout.

It’s a quick drive back to Steve’s house, and soon enough you’re both laying down watching Footloose with your head on one arm of the couch and Steve’s on the other. Try as you might to focus on the film, you can’t help but find your eyes flitting back to Steve. Even with the cheap beer making your gaze heavy, it’s easy to tell his mind is elsewhere. Gently turning your foot into his arm, you ask, “You okay, Stevie? I know that’s a dumb question, but I can tell you’re distracted. Need anything? Another beer? Hair rubs? More red Starburst?”

“I think I’m all beered out for the night,” he chuckles. “Hair rubs sound nice though.”

You slide up on the couch and Steve settles his head into your lap. The low light of the tv causes an ethereal glow to fall across his face, his eyes getting heavier with each pass of your hand through his hair. He could always count on you to keep him grounded. You count the freckles on his face, mindlessly playing with his tousled tresses. “You know they say that beauty marks are the spots where you were kissed the most by your lover in your past life,” you babble, the beer clearly evident in your system. “You must have never had a free moment.”

You can feel Steve chuckle below you. “Staring at me again are we, darling?” he titters. “What can I say? I’m a king in every lifetime.” You grant him a small chuckle before gently patting his face.

“What? You know it’s true,” he sputters, laughing as he gently elbows you.

“I get it Steve, you’re a very handsome man,” you chide as you pull his cheeks like a child. He grabs your hand and places it back on his head, signaling for you to continue. You begin to run your hands through his chestnut hair once more and watch the movie through still heavy eyes. Only a few minutes later you can feel Steve tense up again but decide to keep quiet this time.

“Nance said that she doesn’t love me,” he sighs out a few moments later, eyes still fixed on the TV. You don’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt. He continues, starting to sit up, “She said that I’m bullshit because I don’t care that we killed Barb, and that our whole relationship is just bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.”

“Oh, Stevie,” you murmur before pulling him into a hug. “You are not bullshit, okay? If anything she’s bullshit. She used you to break out of her life of boring normalcy.” She’s been through a lot, and she’s handled it well; however, her treatment of your best friend? That is where she rubbed you wrong. You could tell he was falling hard, and she just seemed to love the attention with no means to reciprocate. 

“No, she’s right,” he interjects, pulling back to sit against the couch. “I am bullshit. All I ever cared about was keeping my reputation as King Steve and acting like an ass with Tommy H. I cared more about that than making Nance happy.” He stops talking and turns away, his eyes tearing up.

“Key word being was, Steve,” you huff, “Were you an asshole? Without a doubt. How many times did I put your ass in check for that? But you’ve become a different person after we got Will back. She can’t continue to hold that against you.”

He looks at you while you’re speaking, but you can tell he doesn’t believe the sentiment behind your statements. You grab both sides of his face and pull your foreheads together. With knitted brows and closed eyes, you speak softly, “Stevie, look at me and actively listen to what I’m saying.” It breaks your heart to think of all the changes he has made just to make her happy, and she has done nothing to acknowledge it.

Your eyes begin to brim with tears, and as you open them to look up at him through wet lashes, you speak from the heart, “We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of. That’s just a fact of life, but you are not that person anymore. You dropped Tommy H and Carol, and even saved Nancy and Jonathan’s ass from a Demagorgon when you were there to apologize. You have been trying so hard to make an effort in rekindling your relationship and her happiness. I mean, didn’t you take her to that party so she could get her mind off everything? All you have ever done in your life is try and prove yourself to the people you love, but love shouldn’t be conditional. It isn’t conditional. You are enough just the way you are right now, okay? I can’t be more serious,” you finish, closing your eyes once again.

This isn’t the first time you’ve had a heart-to-heart, but you can only see Steve tear himself apart for so long. He was dealt a shitty hand in life, and you tried your best to make it better. After a moment of silence, you feel his hand cup your tear-stained cheek.

“Look at me,” he speaks softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Please, dear,” his voice lacking the usual confidence. Slowly you pull your head back and look at him. His eyes dart back and forth between your own with a look of apprehension. Steve subconsciously wets his lips as he looks down at your own. Your feel a lump in your throat as you swallow hard, eyes meeting his once again. The mixture of alcohol and vulnerability lie thick in the air as your heads slowly drift closer to one another, and soon enough your noses brush.

“Steve,” you whisper, voice full of hesitancy and confusion. Hesitant on the part that this was your best friend who was still in a relationship despite this evening’s events. Confusion on the part that this was your best friend. But if he were just that, then why was your heart hammering against your chest?

His eyebrows furrow, as if distressed by your response. “Yeah?” he whispers back, slightly dejected. 

You stay like this, unsure of how long has passed. Seconds? Minutes? Then, you hear him sigh. With hope you aren’t misreading the current situation, you say under your breath, “Kiss me.” You feel him draw back slightly and your heart falls to your stomach just before his lips are crashing into yours. His lips fit perfectly into your own as if this were a habitual pleasure, bodies hand-crafted for each other. His soft, cherry flavored lips moving in such perfect motion with yours.

He draws your bottom lip into his mouth and bites gently, earning a soft whimper from you. He melts into the moan, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you return the favor. His hands fall across the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss and pulling you into him. You both soon pull back to catch your breath, and your vision is full of stars. He takes your hands in his and once again rests his forehead against your own.

“Well that was unexpected,” you chuckle.

“I just couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize, Steve. I asked for it.”

His hazel eyes meet yours once more. “I’ve never had someone care for me as much as you, and I’m kicking myself for not realizing it sooner.”

“Steve, I don’t think it’s a big surprise that I care for you. I’ve cleaned more scraped knees and alcohol-stained houses than I can count,” you remark.

“I’m quite aware of that, darling,” he answers bemused. Taking a deep breath, he starts again, “I mean, realizing that I love you.”

Once again, the boy’s words send a fire straight to your cheeks. “Oh,” you manage to choke out, taken aback from the confession. Although, you’re not quite sure why you’re surprised. You suppose the feelings had been there all along.

“You don’t have to say it back, okay? I mean, I’m still with Nancy, so really I shouldn’t have even kissed you,” he rambles, filling with embarrassment over what he confessed and your small reaction.

“I just—” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck before continuing, “I don’t want this to ruin us. I mean, our friendship, ya know?”

“How could this ruin anything, Steve?,” you ask him, caressing his cheeks. “We have always been close, and I suppose I just mistook our love as platonic. Maybe it did start there, but tonight, after that kiss, I care for you in more ways than one.”

Now it was his turn to burn, the pink tinge crawling up his cheeks. There was a shared look of longing, a decades worth of love buried beneath the ruse of friendship.

“How did I ever get so lucky to have you in my life?” He asks, a smile growing.

“Oh now, Steve,” you grin, “I don’t think barreling through kids to get me to sit next to you in class counts as luck.”

“Well, if you weren’t wearing that Scooby t-shirt I probably wouldn’t have even talked to you, so consider yourself lucky,” he laughs with a wink.

You roll your eyes at him and lean back on the couch just in time for the credits to start rolling and for Kenny Loggins’ voice to fill your ears:

Looking into your eyes

I know I'm right

If there's anything worth my love

It's worth a fight

We only get one chance

And nothing ties our hands

You're what I want, listen to me

Nothing I want's out of my reach 

You look back over to Steve only to see him smiling at you already. And as the music continues to play, you know that no matter what tomorrow brings, Steve will always be there for you like you are for him.

#steve harrington x reader #friends to lovers #slow burn #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #ems writes

[nebulablakemurphy]

Through Love And By Love (Pt. 15)

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished. Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding use of the imperius curse, discussions of trauma and mental illness; reader discretion advised.

Part 14

Scorpius, Rose and Albus are inside Hogwarts now, as the last stand between Harry and Voldemort wages on.

"Oh no, no, no." Scorpius hears his mother whisper.

"What's the matter?" Draco hisses, tucking her into the nearest alcove.

"I think my water just broke. But-"

"But nothing!" Draco cuts her off. "There's nothing to discuss."

There's a shuffling of feet. Scorpius peeks past the pillar obstructing his view; his parents are gone.

"We didn’t change anything." Scorpius turns to Albus and Rose, in defeat. Feeling the time turner rattle to life around his neck. The bloody thing still doesn't work properly. Allowing them access to the past for no more than a few moments before catapulting them back to the present, in whatever reality they'd created.

Each time, things seem to darken tenfold. More lives lost, more broken futures, more heartache. They have more than enough evidence, but for whatever reason they can’t put the pieces back together.

Scorpius finds himself in a timeline where Harry Potter lost the war to Lord Voldemort. A world where Albus and Rose...don't exist.

Now he is alone, in the Slytherin common room. No idea where he’s meant to go or what to do. He sits down in the arm chair and sobs into his hands.

"Scorpius, what are you still doing here?" A familiar voice scolds him. The girl, his sister, is all done up in a slytherin quidditch uniform.

"Polaris?" He squints, drying his face with his sleeve, it looks more like Vega. And he's never been one to mix them up. But Vega can't play quidditch, or most sports for that matter. She certainly wouldn't be sporting slytherin colors.

"Very funny, you're going to be late to the game." Vega rolls her eyes.

Scorpius gapes at her, he's never been good at quidditch either.

"Chop, chop," Polaris scolds, joining them from the staircase.

She's never looked so identical to her twin in all of Scorpius' life.

Draco and Rosanna's son never acquired their affinity for quidditch. Still he suits up, joining his sisters on the pitch for a game. "What erm, which position?"

"Come again?" The twins reply in unison, as they often do in this timeline.

"Keeper? Beater?" Scorpius asks.

"Seeker, you toss pot." Polaris rolls her eyes at him. "Quit fooling around and get ready to pound the Gryffindor filth into the ground."

"Gryffindor filth," he gulps, forcing a nervous smile, “right."

Slytherin loses the match and they blame him, the scorpion prince. Dolores Umbridge demands that he be sent to the ministry of magic, immediately. To meet with his parents, so they can, 'straighten things out.'

To make matters worse, the time turner has gone missing, after his unfortunate quidditch match. He’s stuck here without it.

The second he enters the ministry building, Scorpius can see the difference in the way things are run; most notably, the people in power.

His father, appears to have made quite a name for himself as minister for magic. Ruling closely under Voldemort, praised like some sort of hero, for his part in bringing about the dark lord's victory.

His mother; never strays far from the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange. Taking pleasure in torturing muggles and muggle borns alike. Using her gifts to pry information from even the most unwilling of victims. She is a monster in her own right, according to all reports from his classmates.

Scorpius is anxious to see if any, or all of this, is true.

"You know I don't like to be kept waiting." Rosanna swings open the door to her office, before Scorpius can gather the courage to knock.

"S-sorry Mum, everything's moved around."

She narrows her eyes at him, "did you hit your head?"

His mother's fingers are cold, harsh, as they move hair from his temples, checking for injury that might explain his bizarre behavior.

"Dolores said you had an off game, fell off your broom."

"Well, yes," Scorpius nods. Taking the opportunity to really look at her. Hair pulled into a crisp updo, not a strand out of place. Her eyes are the same brown he remembers but somehow more stern, almost sinister. Heavy makeup and dark clothing, dripping in jewels. She reminds him of Narcissa.

Across her forearm, a string of letters shimmer golden, the edges a horrid maroon color. The skin looks painful, irritated enough to bleed, though it does not seem fresh. As if it had been etched into her and never allowed to heal.

Property of Draco Malfoy

His mother, the world renowned legillimen, his mother the quidditch player, his mother the war hero; reduced to-

Property of Draco Malfoy

Property of Draco Malfoy

Property of Draco Malfoy

He can’t stop himself from gawking.

“Scorpius,” she arches a brow. “What’s wrong?”

Everything, everything is wrong. The Rosanna who raised him wouldn’t have allowed this. She would’ve fought until it killed her, she would’ve cut off her own arm. But she would never have allowed herself to become anyone’s property. And his father wouldn’t have accepted her as such.

They must’ve tortured his parents to death, after the war, and made these…things walk around in their bodies.

He can’t trust them.

“Rosanna, what’s keeping you?” Draco barks from inside the office.

“You know something I don’t.” Rosanna cocks her head to the side, studying her son with a twisted grin. “Show me.”

“Mum?” Is she asking to look inside his mind? She’s never done that.

“It only hurts if you make it difficult, don’t make it difficult.” Rosanna whispers, between gritted teeth.

Scorpius has no choice, if he runs he’ll be caught. If he stays and shows her what she wants then maybe, just maybe-

Rosanna rests her palm against his cheek. Forging headlong into his memories.

When she pulls away, Scorpius isn't sure what to say. They simply stare at each other.

“I asked a question, spoiled thing.” Draco joins them in the doorway, draping an arm around her waist.

She toys with his fingers, “forgive me. I didn’t have an answer yet.”

“Forgive you,” Draco chuckles. “So you can cause me another headache?”

Rosanna turns her face, whispering directly in his ear.

Draco frowns, lifting her hand to his own cheek to see for himself.

They’re not as practiced here, Scorpius realizes, in communicating through legillimacy. But something is wrong, he sees it on both of their faces as they review his thoughts. Something between their two worlds that doesn’t add up, though he can’t figure out how significant it might be.

"Rosanna," a new voice hisses, one Scorpius has never heard before, shoving the door open all the way.

Scorpius turns to see who is beside him; Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I hate to break up your coddling session, but there's real work to be done. Looks like Draco will have to handle this one." Bellatrix jabs a finger at Scorpius.

"Who is it this time?" Rosanna smirks, in a way that makes her son's hair stand on edge.

The man standing behind Bellatrix shoves his captive into view.

"Ro?" He stammers. Dean Thomas, they'd been to school together.

"Friend of yours?" Bellatrix flicks her tongue over rotten teeth.

"Acquaintance." Rosanna lifts a shoulder. "Dean Thomas, brave Gryffindor, member of the resistance," she sizes him up. “I gave myself over to the dark lord and begged for his forgiveness, on my knees. But not you, right Dean? You’re not sorry yet…you will be.”

“Go to hell!” Dean roars, struggling against his restraints.

"We best get to it, the dark lord is very interested to see what you can get out of him." Bellatrix hisses.

Rosanna moves into the hallway. “Come on, let’s go to hell.”

Bellatrix cackles, hysterically, parading their prisoner down to the interrogation chamber.

“Come inside.” Draco says to his son, after a moment. Allowing Scorpius access to Rosanna’s office.

It’s not like the one she has back home, but hardly a torture chamber. One thing does strike Scorpius as odd though.

A framed picture of their family on the desk. He’s the youngest one in it, must be a few years old by now. “Why is Delphi in our family photo?”

Draco turns the frame from him, none too gently. “That’s Leo.”

“No, Leo is the one I showed mum when she was in my head. My sister is-” Different.

“Stop this.” Draco snaps.

“Where is she now?” Scorpius wonders, he must’ve struck a nerve.

“Delphini was Bellatrix and the Dark Lord’s daughter.” Draco chokes out, “she was a troubled girl…”

“Where is she?” Scorpius asks a second time.

“There’s no time for this.”

“Dad,” Scorpius tries to stop him.

“We need to go now.”

“But I-”

“No buts, Scorpius, you will obey me!” Draco shouts, loud enough to rattle the windows.

“Like mum obeys you?” Scorpius snaps, “I saw what you did to her arm.”

Draco purses his lips, “it was a wedding gift, from the dark lord; an obedience charm of sorts. If you’re feeling defiant, I’m sure he would be more than willing to give you one to match.”

“You would do that?” Scorpius gapes at him.

“I would do worse.” Draco lies, he would never hurt any of his children. But he needs Scorpius to listen, he needs him safe. “Follow me.”

————————————————————————

"Where are we going?" Scorpius asks, into the quiet night air. The trees whistle around them.

"We're nearly there." Draco bites out.

"Look, if you're gonna kill me-"

"What?" Draco barks a laugh. "Why on earth would I kill you, Scorpius? You're my only son."

"Great, I'm safe so I can carry on the family name."

"Sure." Draco huffs.

“I saw Vega and Polaris back at school. What about Arlo and Corina? Are they ok?” Scorpius rambles on, feeling the leaves crunch beneath his feet.

“Corina?” His father looks back at him. “The girl with the butterflies?” The little girl Rosanna saw in Scorpius’ mind, but couldn’t place.

"She's uh- she's two, she's got," Scorpius feels a lump rise in his throat. "She's got hair like mum and Arlo, brown eyes…”

Draco clears his throat. "Keep up will you?"

"Sorry," Scorpius speeds up. There's a beat of uncomfortable silence between them. "Couldn't we have apparated?"

"Not unless we want everyone at the ministry to know where we're headed."

"Does mum know? Where we're headed?"

"Generally speaking." Draco nods, "she knows what it's safe for her to know."

"You love her a lot." Scorpius says.

The older man pauses, "I expect that’s true in every timeline.”

Scorpius nods, “yes.”

“We must be happier there, where you’re from. We don’t…we wouldn’t have time for a toddler.” Draco explains.

They come to a stop at a nearby tree, along the far end of the forest, Draco draws out his wand. Tapping it three times against the bark. Slowly, an opening appears, stretching into a narrow entry way. Revealing Ron and Hermione hidden inside, wands drawn to defend themselves.

So maybe just maybe- "Rose?" Scorpius asks, in a whisper.

"Why've you brought him here?" Hermione scowls, coming around from behind Ron. Who is attempting to shield her from any threat, with his own body.

"I need to get him back where he's from." Draco explains.

"He wants the time turner." Ron narrows his eyes at the platinum blonde man.

"We only have one shot at this." Hermione is skeptical, understandably so. They spent hours mending it.

"I know what to." Scorpius replies, solemnly. “I'm ready now. I need to go home, to Rose and Albus-" He breaks off, Snape's gaze locked on his.

"Yes?" Severus raises a brow.

“You're...wow." Scorpius stumbles over the words.

"Very articulate." Snape drawls.

"Sorry, we haven't met." The boy rushes to explain.

"I suppose there was a falling out, after the war?" The man’s brows furrow.

"You died." There's no nice way to say it.

"We all have to make sacrifices." Snape says, with resolution. Better to die for a cause he believes in, than to live in the world that he does.

"You're a hero, Harry always speaks so highly of you. It's an honor." Scorpius is in awe of him.

"Potter speaks highly of me?" The dark haired man almost smiles.

Scorpius nods, "he named his son Albus Severus. I'm your memory and Dumbledore's."

"Tell the boy," Snape pauses. "Tell Albus, that I'm proud he shares my name."

"I will." Scorpius promises.

"What about Rose?" Ron asks. "Who is she? Why'd you think she'd be here?"

Hermione is still holding the time turner in her palm, not ready to give up just yet.

"She's your daughter." Scorpius breathes.

"My daughter?" The red head takes a step backwards.

"And Hermione's. Bloody brilliant, stubborn as they come, not afraid to tell me when I'm being stupid." He draws in a deep breath, "I would do anything to have her back. Then of course there's Hugo, your son. He's a bit younger. We’re always telling him to gerroff. Have to apologize for that, because I'll be damned if I don't miss him him now."

Hermione is tired of fighting, tired of hiding, tired of it all. The years of war ate away at her until there was nothing left. She wants to be herself again, to live the life she would’ve wanted. She wants to see Harry. She steps forward, placing the misplaced time turner into his hand. “Take us home.”

Part 16

#through love and by love #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x oc #draco fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #bellatrix lestrange #Hermione granger #Ron Weasley #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Memoriam: Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: Spencer is investigating the death of his “imaginary friend” that’s not so imaginary. On the other hand, you’re finding out more about your family than you thought you knew. Why are you now getting the ick when you never had this before? What does it all mean?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

You open the driver's door when you see Derek's reflection in the window jogging to catch up with you.

"Was this Spencer's idea?" you roll your eyes.

"No. I've never met your parents. I want to go with you."

"Okay, fine. Hop in." You two get into the car, and you head to your parent's house. "You know, I'm perfectly fine going to lunch with my mom and dad alone."

"I know. As I said, I've never met them before."

"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?" you ask just as you pull into the long driveway.

There are some children outside mowing the lawn and raking the leaves, but they don't look up to greet you. Like before, you see their yellow aura darken a bit at your arrival.

"He's just worried. You can't blame him."

"Spencer is mixing his own emotions for his dad with my parents," you say and park the car.

"Then nothing should be wrong. Why are there kids here? Aren't your parents past the age of having kids?"

"They're foster parents. Kids come in and stay for a few weeks before getting adopted. They've been doing this all my life. I'm their only blood child."

You and Derek get out of the car, and you bring him inside the house where your parents are cooking in the kitchen. They hear you come in, and your dad is about to pull you into a hug when he sees Derek. He hesitates for a split second, but then he hugs you anyway without taking his eyes off Derek.

"Who is this? Another boyfriend?" your dad jokes.

"No. He's my coworker and a really good friend. Derek, meet my parents, Julie and Joey. Mom and Dad, meet Derek Morgan."

"It's nice to meet you two." Your mom sets four plates of food on the table, and you sit down to enjoy her delicious cooking. Derek takes a bite of his food, and his eyes widen in shock. "This is really good."

"Thank you. I do the cooking and cleaning, and my husband does everything else," she chuckles.

"She puts me to work but her cooking makes it worth it." Your dad watches you with a careful eye, and he switches between looking at you and at Derek. "You know, I do miss having you around here, honey. There's no chance you'd change your mind?"

"You already know the answer to that," you sigh and set your fork down.

"I know. I'm just saying. What if you and Spencer move out here?"

"My job is in Virginia."

Your dad bites his tongue from saying something bad, and your mom can see him holding back. Tension sets in, and you can't find it in yourself to look at Derek. This isn't how you want him to remember them, but if they are going to act like this, then you're going to stop coming over. Your dad opens his mouth to say something, but your mom kicks him underneath the table. She shakes her head, and Derek watches this silent conversation.

"Spencer isn't good enough for you," your dad blurts.

And just like that, lunch is ruined.

"Daddy, I love him." Derek is the only one who sees your dad clench his fists from underneath the table. Spencer is right, something weird is going on here. "He takes care of me and loves me for me. I'm having the best time with him, and if you could just get used to him, that would take so much off my shoulders. I see myself marrying him."

"Get out."

"What?"

Why is he behaving like this? He's always been overprotective of you, but he's never been like this before. He's just being unreasonable.

"You heard me."

"Mom," you gasp and look at her. She opens her mouth like she is going to stand up for you, but she shakes her head and shrugs at you. "Fine. Come on, Derek."

You and Derek leave without another word, and it's only when you get back into the car does he say something.

"That was really weird. He shouldn't have reacted that way."

"He's always been like this. One time, I brought a boy home after my parents went to sleep, and my dad caught us making out. He got so angry he threw a lamp and shattered it, but that scared the kid enough to never come back."

"Y/N, that's not normal."

"It's fine. He'll come around."

"I'm not too sure about that."

"Derek, just drop it."

You two spend the rest of the car ride in silence. Mostly because you're embarrassed by how your dad behaved. Why didn't your mom step in? He's being really unreasonable, even if he's done this in the past. He has to come around or else you're not going to visit them anymore.

When you get to the casino, Rossi and Spencer are talking by the entrance. When you get closer, you see Spencer has an envelope in his hands, and he seems pretty shaken about it.

"What is that?" you ask when you approach them.

"How did it go with your parents?"

"Where did you get the envelope?"

Spencer can see you don't want to talk about it which means it didn't go according to plan. He'll ask you about it later when you two are alone.

"I don't know. This was sent straight to my room."

"I do have to admit, the timing of this is a little suspicious," Rossi says.

"Yeah. An hour after I see my father, we're handed another suspect," Spencer sighs.

"Did you know the guy?" you ask and take the envelope to inspect the contents.

There is information about a guy named Gary Brendan Michaels. There's some information about him and a note that says Spencer shouldn't waste his time on anyone but him. Along with the note is a rap sheet for Gary, and he's done some pretty terrible things.

"I don't know. I think so, but I'm not sure. I--I--no, I don't know," Spencer stutters.

"He exposed himself to a minor which is a precursor to molestation and murder. We should take a closer look at this guy."

Derek's phone rings and Derek answers it knowing it's Penelope calling.

"Yeah, talk to me, baby girl."

"Reid, we've been all up in your father's business."

"What did you find?"

"Well, let me tell you first what I did not find. No kiddie porn, no membership to illicit websites, no dubious emails, and no chat room history."

"What about his finances?"

"We went back ten years," Hotch says on the line. He must be in Pen's office with her. "There are no questionable transactions that we can find."

"Well, he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago," Emily says, "but I think we can overlook that."

Everyone must be in the office with her. Once Pen found out Spencer was looking into his father, she got everyone involved. You look at Spencer to see him nervously swaying back and forth. He's squeezing his hands together to try and keep himself busy. Poor baby. He wants so badly for this to be his father because he wants an answer. You don't think Will did this, but you know he knew of it.

"He's smart. Is it possible he kept things under the table?"

"Of course, but from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn't fit the profile."

"We can tell you other things about him if you want to know," Emily says.

"I'm listening."

"He's a workaholic; he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money but he doesn't spend a lot of it. He has a modest house, drives a hybrid, doesn't travel much, stays away from the casinos, and according to his veterinary bills, has a very sick cat."

"He appears to spend most of his free time alone, he goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. From his collection of first editions, it seems his favorite author is--"

"Isaac Asimov, I remember that one," Spencer cuts Hotch off.

"He does have one other major interest. On his home computer, he's archived a ka-jillion things on one common subject."

"What?"

"You, kiddo. He's got everything that's been published online. Every article you've been quoted in, pieces you've written for behavioral science journals, and he even has a copy of your dissertation."

"He's keeping tabs on you. That's saying something," Rossi says.

"Yeah, he googled me. Like that makes up for everything. I'm going to get some air."

Spencer walks off clearly upset. You feel so bad for him and wish you could do more for him right now. You want to go after him, but Derek stops you from doing so.

"Give him space."

"He's hurting."

"He needs space right now." Derek turns his attention to his phone. "You guys still there?"

"I thought we were giving him good news," Penelope sighs sadly. "What else can we do?"

"Look up a name for us, if you would. Gary Brendan Michaels."

"You think he has something to do with Riley's murder?"

"Somebody does."

"I can't sit by and do nothing. I'm going to go talk to Spencer," you say.

You leave the group without waiting for their response. You search outside the casino but don't see your boyfriend anywhere. You head back inside and search around some of the slot machines and spot him at a blackjack table by himself. You walk over there but pause when a skinny blonde woman slinks up to his side. He'd never do anything to hurt you, so you know he won't see her as someone he's attracted to. You stay off to the side and watch them, paying close attention to Spencer's body language.

"Wow, looks like you got a loose one."

"No such thing. These machines run on random number generators. Best odds in the house, though."

"Really? I thought that craps had the best odds."

"Normally, video poker odds are slightly worse at .7 percent in your favor. However, if you employ optimal strategy and always drop with a royal flush, you can push those odds to two percent."

"Smart and handsome," she flirts. You sigh and look down and cross your arms. "So, are you in town for the convention?"

"There are twelve conventions in town this week. Which one are you talking about?"

"Take your pick."

The woman takes out a cigarette and puts it in her mouth, unlit, while she searches through her purse for a lighter.

"Six minutes."

"Excuse me?"

"Um, it was something I used to say to my mom to try to get her to quit smoking. A cigarette takes six minutes off your life. So, every time she'd light one, I'd say, 'It's six minutes less that I get to spend with you'."

"Did it work?"

"No."

"I've tried it all. Nothing works."

"You should try hypnosis. There's been a lot of success in..."

Spencer pauses when he thinks of something that is relevant to the case he's on. He looks up and spots you by the archway into the slot machine area, and guilt pours out of his body heavily. He wasn't doing anything, but she was flirting with him and he didn't shut it down. You're not bothered by it because you're so concerned about him.

He gets up and walks over to you, but before he can apologize, you wave him off.

"Spencer, you're really upset, and I want to help you. I want to make it better for you, but you need to tell me what to do."

"You can come with me."

"Where?"

"To the doctor."

Spencer believes that he might be able to remember what happened if he gets hypnotized. The human mind can easily block out events if it's too traumatic for it to handle. Hypnotism relaxes the brain to allow someone else to take the wheel. This is the only way Spencer can think that might work for him. He doesn't want Rossi or Derek with him, so you escort him to Doctor Jan Mohikian's office, which allows him to take him at the last minute.

x

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[imakemywings]

This Shadow will not Endure

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Characters: Amarie, Finrod

Summary: For the first time since Finrod's rebirth in Aman, he and Amarie are intimate.

Rating: E

Length: 5.4k

AO3 | Pillowfort

___________________________________________________

There were times still that Finrod struggled to anchor himself in the moment. Moments when it felt he was watching or hearing things happening to someone else, not to himself. In the worst of these moments, he could hear instead the echo of Sauron’s voice in the back of his mind like nails scraping through his flesh, feel the coarse weight of chains against his wrists, feel the wetness of his men’s blood against his hands; in these moments, he flailed mentally to grip something present to reassure himself that he was not still a prisoner of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, simply being tormented with a vision of peace he would never know again. In the less extreme, he felt only adrift, curiously watching a scene play out in front of him without actually being a part of it.

He had a sense Amarië was beginning to draw on this. She had a knack for touching his hand whenever he was sitting or standing there, nodding along, appearing—or doing his best to appear—attentive, while his mind distanced itself from what was going on around him.

“Ingoldo?” she said, her fingers delicate against the back of his hand. He experienced these things: first, the touch of Amarië’s hand, breaking through the fog around him; second, the sound of her voice, suddenly clear where before it had been as if spoken through a door; last, the rustle of the leaves beyond the window, drawing him back into the world as if he had been holding his breath but now drew in again.

“Yes?” he said, refraining from shaking his head, as if that would make his voice sound more like his own.

“What are you thinking of?” she asked. Atya had called him “distracted.” He didn’t mean it badly—and it was true. But it felt like such a light word for the preoccupations of Finrod’s mind, even now, years out from his return to Aman.

Finrod observed the room.

Amarië’s front room faced the garden with wide windows and the flowering bushes she had planted outside offered just enough privacy from passers-by; the sunlight filtered through the playfully waving leaves to throw dappled shadows over the front room floor, reaching up to where they sat on the couch to speckle their feet and illuminate the side of her face nearest to the window, lighting up the port wine mark that darkened nearly half her face. On the shelves were a mix of Amarië’s things and gifts from friends—if he had cared to, Finrod was sure he could have placed certain gifts with certain friends merely by the mark of their particular artistry. Behind him, behind the side door that connected Amarië’s apartment to the rest of the house, where dwelt her parents, along with her older brother and his husband, the rest of the family was being too quiet to hear. The room was warm, almost perfectly so—he felt entirely comfortable in his light robes.

“You,” he said. A smile twitched on Amarië’s lips. Today she was dressed in pale pinks and yellows, which complemented her complexion and made him think of the tulip beds laid out around the Fountain of Falling Stars downtown.

“I am interested,” he insisted, looking at her once more. “Tell me again.”

“Oh no, it was dull enough to go through it the first time,” she laughed. “Even I don’t care to share it again. Suffice to say one of my friends is terribly upset about nothing, but it will pass quickly.”

There was a moment then when he looked at her and debated pressing the issue, insisting she should share anyway, while Amarië considered whether to press the issue of his distraction and insist he tell her what he was really thinking about.

“Do you remember that time we went camping with Turukáno and Elenwë?” she asked instead, and was rewarded with the smile that tugged at Finrod’s lips.

“I assume you mean the time Elenwë got us lost? How could I forget?” he said.

“The same way you forgot the cover to our tent, I imagine,” said Amarië, which earned her a deeply wounded and awfully exaggerated look.

“The weather was supposed to be clear,” he said, as he had said all night through the hail as they huddled the four of them in a tent made for two. “Do you remember how you traded places with Elenwë in the night?”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” she exclaimed. “I only got up in the night and she must have rolled over when I was out…I do remember Turukáno’s face when he woke up in the morning holding me instead of her!” They both laughed and Amarië felt something light and tight in her chest at what seemed to her to be the clearing of clouds off Finrod’s face.

“I do think if it had been anyone but you, that response would have been quite a bit more energetic,” Finrod snickered. Amarië never would have been so well-acquainted with Turgon but for Finrod’s bringing them together so often.

“I think the tent might’ve taken a tumble. You and Elenwë could’ve been more help,” she pointed out, as she had before.

“We thought you two could sort it out,” Finrod said with a smile closer to the loose, easy manner he used to carry before the sky had gone dark. But just as readily, there slipped into his gaze a drop of sorrow that had not been there before and Amarië’s heart sank. Mentioning Turgon was always a gamble—Finrod delighted in memories of his oldest and dearest friend, a cousin who was like a brother to him, but he also grieved their long separation and that he no longer knew Turgon’s fate in Middle-earth. She shifted nearer to him on the couch, laying a hand on his leg, crooked under him so they could sit facing each other.

“I haven’t been camping in quite a while now,” she hinted.

“Perhaps we should go,” he said.

“While the weather is nice!” she agreed.

“The weather is always nice here,” Finrod said with a faint chuckle that was somehow wearier she would have otherwise expected. He fell silent and Amarië took his hand and rubbed it between her fingers. He squeezed her fingers in response and after a moment, his gaze returned to her. He reached out and smoothed a few loose strands of hair back behind her ear and Amarië caught this hand too, and turned to press a kiss against his palm.

“Only if you wish to go,” she said. “There are many things for us to rediscover here; I would not be terribly picky.”

“Neither would I,” he said, feeling his heartbeat more acutely at the touch of her lips. “I will go anywhere you like.” As long as I am permitted, he didn’t add. He didn’t need to—not when his own mother was still avoiding him on the basis of the slaughter at the Swanhaven. No one in Valmar or Alqualondë wanted to see him; a great many in Tirion didn’t either, but they didn’t have the option to refuse him entry, certainly not when Finarfin sat the throne of the high king.

“Always so accommodating,” said Amarië with a playful smile, leaning in nearer. “And if I wished to remain right where we are? Right here?” She watched his expression.

“Then I would wish to remain here as well,” he said, curling his fingers around her hand. He wanted to say he would always prefer to be where she was, but it seemed like a hollow sentiment after he’d spent nearly six hundred years apart from her by his own choice. So he said nothing.

“Good,” said Amarië, and she kissed him.

They had kissed since he had been home—since they had realized neither of them had ever moved to break their engagement—but it had not gone much further than that. Finrod’s recovery had been a slow process and neither of them wished to rush anything, and there were moments he simply found being touched at all intolerable. He hated that—hated that Sauron even now could make his skin crawl at the touch of his beloved.

Now, though—now Amarië’s kiss chased away the last of the shadows muddying the edges of his mind and he leaned into it, breathing in with delight the smell of her hair and the perfumes she wore. She had no plans to make it a quick affair either—she moved nearer, pushing him back against the seat of the couch so they were clumsily piled half on top of each other, and her mouth parted against his. He opened too, readily welcoming her and one hand moved up to brush over her face and delve back into her strawberry blonde hair, though he made an effort not to make a mess of her braids.

When finally she drew back for air, she gazed down at him and Finrod felt tremulous: as though she made him into some delicate, wobbly thing which could be crushed with no effort at all. He wanted to throw himself at her; he wanted to hide under a quilt; he wanted to stop feeling that his emotions were some runaway cart perpetually out of his control.

“My sunshine boy,” she said softly, stroking his cheek. This was something new—she had not had the notion of sunshine before, when the had been first engaged. It would have been more appropriate then, he thought with chagrin. But before he could let these doubts dig in, Amarië was kissing him again and he made a sound in his throat like an animal whimper. Amarië pressed closer to him, warm and heavy on top of him and he gripped her waist to keep her there until she shivered and he could feel that she was becoming aroused.

“Amarië,” he started when they broke apart again, catching their breath, their lips flushed and swollen.

“Yes?” she said. Finrod looked stupidly at her, wondering what the devil he had meant to say, if anything. He was grateful these days for a single thought in his head he could put to words. Was it out of place to tell her he wanted her never to let go of him again (impracticalities aside, of course)?

“I missed you,” he said at last. Amarië’s face broke into a smile.

“I missed you too, silly thing,” she replied, and when she pounced on him again he surged up to meet her, heat welling up in his gut and sinking lower. Amarië shifted again and he pulled her to straddle one of his legs, where he could clearly feel her growing hard. She drew her knee up further and Finrod could not help but moan as she brushed against his groin. Amarië responded by pressing down more against his hip and he nipped at her lower lip, aching, aching.

“Findaráto,” she said breathlessly and the sound made him throb; he grabbed the back of her head and dragged her into another kiss; if she had something that must be said, she would have to make more of an effort—but apparently she did not, for she simply sank greedily into his kiss.

He was present, he was here; there were no voices; there were no sounds but his own increasingly desperate noises of arousal and Amarië’s heavy breathing; there was nothing but her hands on his chest, and—and—

Amarië’s hand had found its way between his legs and he gasped sharply as she palmed against him, unable to control the instinctive jerking of his hips towards her hand. It felt—perhaps it was an effect of the Halls?—it felt as if it had been lifetimes since anyone had touched him. Encouraged by this response, Amarië wriggled her hand down the front of his undershorts and drew out his cock, stroking him breathless, turning him incoherent with half-stifled whines and whimpers.

“Amarië,” he implored, for what he didn’t know. “Amarië.” He was shivering. “Oh.”

“Do you want me to?” she asked softly. She had not offered up ‘til then; she had wished to let him take everything at his own pace, once she had seen how delicate he was on his return.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, yes, please. I need you.” That he felt bone-deep, as if for that moment, she was the only thing holding him together. Her hand stilled and she fell on him in another kiss; Finrod pulled her firmly into his lap and her weight on him was something divine; how could he think about anything else now? “Do you have…?”

“I do,” she panted, drawing back. “But not here; I haven’t locked the side door.”

This revelation resulted in Finrod immediately snapping his head around as if Amarië’s mother and father were like to burst through the door at once, and Amarië laughed.

“Remembering our close calls?” she teased.

“Do not make me think of that now,” he reprimanded her feebly, with no desire to relive young adulthood and the handful of times his up-until-then flawless image in the eyes of her parents had nearly been shattered by catching them necking somewhere in the house. Not that it had been much prior to their engagement, but still. Finrod, as a prince of the Noldor, had an image to uphold (a notion all the more bitterly amusing now).

“Come on,” she said, rising to her feet and pulling him along after. He pinned her against the wall near her bedroom door and kissed her senseless; Amarië put her hand between his legs again and he couldn’t stop himself from rutting into her touch, his face flushed, ready to fuck her hand if she would let him; he was not in a position to be choosy. If she wasn’t careful, he was going to finish before they got to do anything more.

But Amarië, this time, had the more sense of the two of them, and herded him into her room (and locked the door) before she started peeling his clothes off like he was a particularly delectable kind of fruit. Her hands roamed over his ribs, his chest, his shoulders; he wanted to press her fingers through his flesh and wrap them around his heart. Instead, he got to work on the fastenings of her robe, making relatively rote work of undressing her. For a moment then they just stood and looked at each other, as if walking onto a long-remembered road and trying to recall exactly where to go. Finrod was relieved that his hands did not tremble when he reached for her; when his hands slid over her pert little breasts and cupped them; when his lips met her throat, her neck, her collarbone; when he drew her against him and felt her squirm with her growing arousal it felt so simple, so easy: easier than walking through the front door on his first day back in Tirion.

One hand slid down over her hip to stroke her, rewarded with her hot hardness in his hand, with the way she twitched into his touch with a soft noise of satisfaction, a kind of sigh, as if she was receiving something she had been waiting for, leaning just a touch against him until he let go of her.

“Look at you,” he sighed, drawing his fingers from her throat down to her bellybutton. “Many wonders have I seen the world over, and all would I trade for a last look at you.”

“Then sound a little more joyful about it,” she teased, scratching at the nest of brown curls around the base of him. “Or have I not earned a portion of your joy?”

That brought a wry smile to his lips.

“I am duly chastised,” he said. “My joy in Valinor has most often its source in you. Let me make it up to you.” His hands moved almost reverently down her sides, then back to her ass, to squeeze and pull her nearer; he wanted to trace over every inch of her with fingers and lips and tongue, but he knew he would not last long enough for that, not now.

We have time, he reminded himself forcefully. We have time, we have time.

“Lay down,” Amarië instructed, pushing him back towards the bed.

She got the oil from where it was tucked coquettishly behind various creams and perfumes on top of her dresser and took in the sight of her beloved on the bed, Finrod the Fair, all golden hair and golden limbs and a shadow in his eyes she had never known before his return. She wanted to shout it away; to chase it out of this space that should be theirs, that should be sacred, and not a shelter for Finrod’s torments.

He had not told her how he’d died, not yet. Only that it involved a promise he refused to break.

She was gentle with her fingers; she was always gentle, and Finrod could weep about it (and once, when he’d been drunk, he had). Nevertheless, she was quick, guessing correctly she could not string him out much at all that day. Even so, he was writhing impatiently on the bed as subtly as he could manage by the time she got herself in position. (She knew him well enough to recognize both his impatience and when he was trying to hide it.)

“Are you ready?” she asked and he nodded quickly, looking up at her with those big brown doe-eyes for which she’d been weak since she was ten years old. There was a helpless vulnerability in him there, like he would not or could not hide that he was putting himself so much into her hands; it was a kind of courage, she supposed, but she and Finrod had always made these gestures so easy between them it had never seemed to stand out before.

Amarië smiled and took his hand and kissed his fingers, and then she entered him. Slow, slow, even though she had prepared him for this, because it had been a long time for him, and she didn’t want even a hint of pain. Her breathing grew labored and she restrained herself to the pace she had set; she had forgotten how good it felt to be inside him. She didn’t know if there was something particular about Finrod’s body, or if it was just that her affection for him rendered her particularly sated by his hröa. Looking at his face didn’t make it easier to control herself: he had a knit between his brows and his blush streaked vividly across his cheekbones and he was making these tiny noises as she pressed in like she was cracking him apart at the seams. When she bottomed out he let out a moan, reaching up to bite on his knuckle and Amarië drew in a quick breath, her fingers twisting up in the sheets.

“Alright?” she checked. “Are you ready?” Finrod made a high-pitched wordless whine and nodded, his hips twitching, his cock flushed and achingly hard. “Do you want this?”

“Please,” Finrod begged, a slight arch in his back as if he could urge her deeper. She leaned down to kiss him and he gasped at the pressure of her weight on his need; she swallowed that noise into her kiss and stroked his thigh.

“I’ve got you,” she promised softly, drawing back enough to look down into those warm brown eyes.

Finrod gave a shaky nod and cupped her cheek and gave her a quick kiss.

“I’ve got you too,” he murmured. She let them stay that way a moment, putting aside the animal need whining in her flesh, before she repositioned and began to thrust into him. The breaking cry that Finrod let out at that first thrust made her dizzy and she had to fight the urge to move faster, harder. She kept it slow and deep for now, and it seemed to be right, for Finrod was shuddering apart already, whimpering and moaning under his breath, his hips jerking clumsily up against hers.

“Do I need to make you turn over, Ingoldo?” she teased when his juddering motions interrupted her rhythm. He only gazed wide-eyed up at her and she kissed him gently, raking her nails lightly down his chest. “No, I would see your face today,” she declined quietly, stroking his cheek. She kissed him again and picked up her movement until Finrod was gripping the sheets as if trying not to fall from a great height, his breathing coming trembling and uneven, his cock leaking as desperate little noises spilled endlessly past his lips.

The world was Amarië and her sparkling eyes and the wobble of her breasts and her cock striking at his core again and again and her hand caressing—on his thigh, on his hip, his chest, his shoulder. The whole of Eä was condensed into how she looked at him as if—as if—as if she were in love still, even now, with him as he was. Without warning, Finrod climaxed, punctuated with short little gasps as pleasure rolled over him in shockwaves, leaving him limp and dazed on the bed.

Amarië thrust a few more times, but she saw how he flinched at this contact, over-sensitive now that he had finished, and she pulled out, using her hand instead. Finrod pushed himself up with one hand, and the other curled over hers, so together they brought her off until she too, spilled her seed across his belly with a low moan. The room was filled with the sound of their panting.

Amarië leaned in and kissed Finrod back down onto the mattress and then curled up against his side, laying her head on his chest.

“I will tell you,” she sighed, “my dreams did not recollect you nearly as well as I imagined they did.” They’d made rather a mess of dear Finrod, but she made no move to peel away from him to trouble herself with any cleaning; the sound of Finrod’s heartbeat was a blanket pulled around her shoulders she had been too long without. She rested a hand against his sternum, her thumb stroking the warmth of his skin.

There was a noise he made, which wasn’t quite right, and she knew it at once, before the shudder went through him and his breathing changed, so when she pushed herself up on one elbow and saw that he was crying, she was alarmed, but not surprised.

“Findaráto?” she asked, at once all anxiety and trying not to show it too much. “Did I hurt you?” she fretted. Choked, Finrod shook his head vigorously, covering his mouth with one hand.

“No,” he whispered, strained. “I—no, you did nothing wrong.” He struggled upright, wiping aggressively at his eyes. “I don’t know—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” she exclaimed. “Is—is something wrong?” The question made her feel like an idiot, when Finrod was in tears in her bed; her stomach twisted in the way it did when she stepped off the stairs thinking there was one more step than there was. It was the first time they had—since he had been back and—Eru, had she been awfully, awfully selfish? Amarië reached out to touch his back, and then thought maybe Finrod would not want to be touched by her then and drew back.

“I should apologize,” she said softly. “Perhaps it was too soon for this.”

“No!” Finrod burst out, rubbing his forearm against his eyes like he could scrub the tears away. “I wanted this. I wanted this with you.” He looked over at her, glassy-eyed, with that worried furrow between his eyes she saw too often anymore and a tightness in his jaw.

“Still,” she said, carefully placing a hand on his arm. “Perhaps we were…too eager.” Finrod shook his head again, breathing slowly and deliberately, trying to regain a semblance of calm. “Do you want to talk about it?” she suggested after a moment.

“I can’t!” The frustration in his voice struck at her heart. “I don’t understand. Everything was fine—it was—but then—” He made a wordless sound of aggravation and doubled over, covering his eyes with his hands.

This time Amarië did put her hand on his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades. It rent her heart: her sunshine, her daffodil, her shoot of Laurelin to be so aggrieved and bowed with woe and haunted by phantoms and ghoulish memories she couldn’t begin to understand. Sliding an arm around him, Amarië leaned against his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay, Ingoldo.” She stroked his hair awkwardly from her position and kissed his bare shoulder. “I’ve got you.” When they had paused there a few moments, she said: “Why don’t we lie down a while, hm?” She scratched her nails lightly over his back and re-arranged the pillows so she could lay comfortably back against the headboard, then gestured him over. Finrod lay down alongside her, head somewhere between her chest and her shoulder, and she carded her fingers through his thick golden waves. Frustration and embarrassment lingered in Finrod’s silence. She was not used to his having things to be embarrassed about around her.

“Tell me something about Endor?” she said. This was a prompt she used often when he lapsed into brooding silence or wistful looks; if she had to guess, she would say he was homesick. He had a whole (growing) journal of notes on his time there, for a purpose he had not yet revealed, perhaps on which he had not yet decided. It pleased her to see him with a project; it was good to have his mind focused on something.

Finrod considered her question as he usually did, careful in his selected response. Amarië guessed he painted a very pretty picture of Middle-earth—she did not understand, how he could speak so lovingly of a place which had left him shattered into so many pieces. But maybe she didn’t need to understand—maybe it was enough to listen.

“In many places in Endor, there are four seasons, very distinct and much harsher than here,” he said at last. “In winter, most of the plants die and many animals go to sleep—” There was no word for ‘hibernation’ in Quenya, “—during the coldest parts. There is snow, sometimes many feet deep even away from the mountains, and it falls like a blanket so that when you walk outside, the world feels almost silent. You must rely on stockpiled food or you will be very hungry. It is a time of danger for mortals especially, as they are more susceptible to cold than we are. Every year many of them will perish. So when the weather warms and spring comes, and the plants and animals return, there is much rejoicing. The peoples of Middle-earth, particularly the Atani and Quendi, have many celebrations for the changing of the seasons, and we did not wonder why, when we had seen them for ourselves.”

“You liked spring there, then?”

“I liked all the seasons,” said Finrod. “Each of them has its own risks, but also its own beauty. I liked to ride out into the woods during the winter and see the snow-laden branches of the trees and the places where ice covered the river. I liked coming back to sit by the fire and have mulled wine and take stock of our reserves.” He snuggled against her and she felt their combined fluid wet against her side. He did not say that he disliked traveling more than a few miles from home or over the plains in winter where the snow seemed to stretch out endlessly or staying out until his toes grew numb because of what it made him remember. He did not mention Elenwë then.

Amarië scratched her nails against his scalp, cradling his head against her.

“I wish I could have seen it,” she said honestly. Finrod hesitated.

“There is much in Endor I would have shared with you,” he said softly. “But there is much else I am glad you never had cause to suffer.”

“Still,” she murmured, and they both lay unhappy in their choices. Finrod’s arm tightened over her and he pressed his face against her breast and Amarië held him closer. Then he said:

“You should not have waited for me.”

Once, she would have said she had a good guess at what was going on in Finrod’s head at any given moment. Not for certain, for no one could ever be certain of Finrod’s mind but Finrod himself, and he had more control over himself than most gave him credit for. At times now she felt she grasped at that closeness, but too often it felt there was a shade between them and sometimes it seemed to her that he was crying out to her about something she couldn’t hear.

But her thoughts on this particular statement were the same no matter what had brought it on.

“Findaráto,” she sighed, “I am sick to death of being told what I should and shouldn’t do, so don’t you start. I have made my choices, the good and the bad, and I will live with them as I may. You worry about your own choices. And,” she added, “if you think my parents did not already make a titanic effort to convince me to put you aside and choose another betrothal elsewhere, you are as optimistic as anyone has ever given you credit for.”

“Did they?” Finrod asked, sounding sweetly, naively surprised.

“Of course they did,” she said. “You remember how upset they were about the rebellion. I couldn’t have been too quick about it.”

“Mm.” Finrod made a chagrined noise. “That does explain a few things.” Amarië cringed.

“I will give my apologies for whatever it is they’ve done,” she said.

“You needn’t,” Finrod said. “I will be the last to advocate the necessity of apologizing for the actions of family members; I would never stop.” Amarië snorted and then wondered if perhaps he hadn’t meant that to be funny, but Finrod huffed as well and made some watery noise of amusement. He drew back from her to look on her face and she tried desperately to read his eyes. I knew you once as I knew myself, she thought. I will know you again. No shadow of Endor nor evil of Moringotto will keep you from me.

She had made a vow once, at twenty-two, that someday she would have Finrod Finarfinion to husband, and to that vow she held still (though Finrod had been asleep at the time she declared it).

“I missed you,” he said very quietly. Amarië bit her lower lip, her throat tightening and it seemed to her those three spare words carried a great deal.

“I missed you too,” she said. For several moments, they said nothing else, and then Finrod drew a hand up her thigh, too soft to be suggestive.

“I want you to know that I—please don’t take my response today as—I wanted to be with you. I still do. Right now everything is…” Again, the furrow of his brow, this uncertainty so unfamiliar to her in his manner, “…complicated. But complicated does not necessarily mean bad,” he added quickly. “If there was a problem, I would tell you. You…you know how you ease my fëa. Home isn’t home without you.” His voice grew softer still. “I trust you with all things, Amarië.”

Amarië nodded, finding herself unexpectedly reassured.

“I trust you,” she said. “Don’t let me hurt you, Ingoldo.” He nodded and lay back down, and Amarië resettled so they lay face-to-face. “Tell me more about the spring celebrations,” she said, tracing her fingers over his chest.

A smile crossed over his face.

“In some of the Mannish villages, they would crown the most beautiful youths in wreaths of flowers, so I am certain if you had been born a Man you would have received many such crowns…”

Amarië smiled too, and let Finrod talk until she could almost smell the cider and taste the honey-cakes of springtime, and they lay under the comforting blanket fortress of their stories as when they were children, and for a beautiful while, there was nothing else outside of that.

#finrod #amarie #amarie x finrod #the silmarillion #tolkien tag #fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #rocky writes #I did this instead of studying #I know how to prioritize

[smolwritingchick]

The Bangtan Gal Chapter 22- American Hustle Life Episode 5

Chapter Summary: Finding out that she won't be able to use the Bangtan Boys for the American Version of Boy In Luv, Jennie attempts to use her charm to grab a guy to film with her

Words: 4,000+

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'After meeting Warren G for the first time, BTS decided to throw a party with Warren G'

Walking inside Warren G's place, Jen and the guys look around in amazement. "Wow~"

"The inside is really pretty," Jimin said in a cheery tone.

In front of them, they see Warren G with his hands full of food. Getting right to work, Suga and Jin work on the meat, while the rest are inside. Jimin and Jennie work on washing the veggies. Turning her head, she sees Rap Monster and V around with the red cups and eating some of the food.

"Ahem. Aren't you two supposed to be helping?" She put her hands on her hips.

"Aish, really!?" Jimin scolded, while V opened the cupcakes.

"No, don't touch the sweets. Leave them in the plastic. Don't put them on the plate, they'll dry out. Leave it." Jennie closed it, shaking her head.

"Hey, why are you guys already on break?" J-Hope and Jungkook approach them.

"These two are playing around. Jimin and I are trying to get things straight." She declared.

Jennie (We're partying with Warren G! It doesn't get any better than this. It's been so long since I've had any sort of Barbecue. My family has a lot of cookouts. And now I'm missing all of them, haha. One day, I would love to invite the boys to one of my family cookouts. If we ever have free time, off our schedule, I'm sure they'll have a lot of fun.)

After the food was all done, Jennie and the guys sat around on Warren G's red couch, with all the food in front of them. 

"Thank you for the meal!" They thanked him and dug right in.

With her appetite getting the best of her, she grabbed one of everything, chowing down in delight. She missed this, the meat was so juicy. It reminded her of home.

Jennie (Look I don't care, if I'm hungry, I'm going to just eat...a lot.)

"Do you know kimichi?" J-Hope asked.

"I mean, I heard, it sounds familiar." Warren G answered, and then Jimin presented him with a plate of it, so he could try it. Suga joked about his expression darkening as they watched him try it out. "That's aite."

"Ohhh~" The boys say in surprise.

"It's spicy." He laughed and got some more, to put on his plate. "That's some good kimchi. I need to find out where I could buy that kimchi around, here."

"Ah, really?" Rap Monster asked in English.

"It's so good, it should be around at some Asian markets," Jennie replied

'Warren G fell deep in love with kimchi'

"It's spicy but it's good. So how does it feel? Do you guys miss like your family and friends? You know, what are the types of the food you guys eat, when you at home in Korea?" Warren G asked.

"For me, I put sesame oil and soy sauce over fried egg and I mix it up. My grandma made it for me a lot." V answered

"That sounds good! I need that! I need somebody to make me some."

"I miss my family and friends. Being in another country while they're home in the USA, it's tough. I try to contact them as much as I can when I have the time." Jennie mentioned with a smile.

In English, Jin spoke up, "I miss them and I want mother's cook."

"Mhm, you miss her cooking?" Warren G asked.

"Yeah. I like...them very much."

"Oh, you love 'em? You love 'em, very much? And you like her, you miss your mom's cooking. I'm not mad at that. Are you guys homesick?"

"Yeah." The group answered.

"I heard that my family moved and I still haven't been to our new home," Jin added. Nodding, Rap Monster agreed with him.

"How long have you been away from home?" Warren G asked.

"I haven't been home since my parents took me to Korea, so I can work with Big Hit. Since 2013." Jennie answered.

"The last time I went home was about 2 years ago." Suga answered.

"Yeah, but at the same time, you have to take out time to see your family. That's one special thing about me, I always take my time to be with my family." Warren G said.

"Who's the person you miss the most, right now?" J-Hope asked him.

"Well, I miss my mother. She passed away in 1999. So, I'm, I'm motherless, you know, but I was very young. Uh, I was in my 20s. early 20s. Actually, about 2 weeks ago, I just went and visited my mother's grave. And put some flowers."

'Everyone becoming connected by talking about their families.'

'A meaningful time spent with Warren G while sharing each other's deep stories'

'Next morning'

Staying up all night, Jennie slept in more than usual, instead of waking up early like she's used to. With the noise, next door, thanks to the house being constructed, and Tony & Nate shouting to wake up, she groaned, stirring in her sleep.

"Five more minutes..." She murmured.

"Let's go! Let's go! We got a long day." Tony announced, while Jungkook squirmed on the couch, but continued to lay across the couch. "Jennie! Wake up, girl! You're always the first one up, what happened!?"

"Her and Jungkook were gaming last night." Jimin giggled, while Tony shakes her.

Effortlessly picking her up in his strong arms, Tony put her over his shoulder and walked over to the couch. Suddenly, she's placed right on top of Jungkook's spread out body, on the couch.

"Wake up, Jennie! And wake up Jin!" Tony shouted, trying to make them wake up.

"That's Jungkook." Jennie let out a sleepy laugh. Looking down, she saw herself sitting right on his back and shifting to the edge of the couch.

Voice slightly hoarse from sleep, she shook him. "Sorry, for sitting on you, Kookie. Kookie! Get up!"

Jungkook sat up, groggy from sleep as he heard her giggle at his bedhead. 

"BTS, what's poppin'?" Tony greeted, walking up to Jungkook to finally wake him up.

Sitting next to Jennie and still tired, Jungkook tilted his head to the side, resting his head on her shoulder, trying to go back to sleep. Drowsy herself, Jennie rested her head against his, attempting to get some extra Zs.

"You two are always so close. Give the skinship a break!" Jimin teased but got no response from the teenagers.

"I think they're ignoring you." V said with an amused grin.

Finally, more awake, the members look at the next mission.

'BTS! Make the music video full of hip hop spirit and swag!'

"So we're gonna teach you guys a new work, right? It's called Stuntin." Tony informed.

"The purpose of stuntin', two reasons you stunt, alright, is to get attention and is that when you get that attention, girls like what they see. The people like what they see, you know." Nate added.

"We just wanna make sure that, when y'all come to Los Angeles, when y'all come to America, y'all gotta do the rap video the right way."

"Your videos are dope. But, there's one thing that we never really saw a lot of and that was girls."

"Oh, my God!" Suga exclaimed.

"But we have Jennie!" Jimin pointed out. "Miss Bangtan!"

"He said girlS." She emphasized the S. "Not girl."

"So today, we going out, we're gonna find girls. Y'all gonna talk to 'em. Get them in the music video." Tony announced.

Jennie laughed at the guys' reaction as they oh'ed and covered their faces.

"Is that possible? We can't even speak English, is that possible?" Suga doubted. "We're not using Jennie?"

"Nope. For the music video, you guys are not going to use Jennie. You know her too well, you gotta find some other girls." Tony answered.

Curious, Jennie asked, "So what am I going to do?"

"Jennie, you are going to find a guy for your part of the music video." Tony pointed out.

"Oohhhhh." The guys exclaimed, looking at her as she let out a soft chuckle.

Jennie (Eh heh heh...come again?)

"Do our tutor hyungs have any friends?" Jimin asked.

"I could bring you some ladies but it's up to you to woo those ladies. I mean, make the ladies feel like, 'Wow, I really like V.', 'I really like Suga.'" Nate explains. "Alright so, these skills that we're about to teach y'all, these should not be used for personal gain. These are to be used to catch girls for your music video."

"First we're going to start with Jennie." Tony gestured.

"Yay! Ladies first!" Jimin cheered.

"Jennie, you're cute. You're down to earth, and you have a pretty smile. You can use that as an advantage." Tony told her as she smiled and gushed over his kind words. "Now, I want to know how you would approach a guy if you saw him playing on the basketball court."

"Okay, I'll try." She said while Nate stood up to get out of her way. On cue, she walked up to Tony, shooting him a sweet smile. "Hey." She said in a confident voice.

"What's up, girl?" He played along.

"I'm Jennie. What's your name?"

"Tony."

"Nice to meet you, Tony. I saw you playing over there, at the basketball court. I wanted to tell you that I was impressed. Your skills are A-1." She nodded in approval.

"Thanks, do you play?"

"Yeah, I play a little basketball. You want to play a round?"

"Ight, let's go play."

The guys look on, impressed

Jennie (Approaching a guy to talk is fine, but I was tongue tied about how to approach the guy for the music video. I dunno, I think I should talk a lot first, get to know him and then bring up the music video. I don't want it to be too sudden.)

"Before you even talk to a girl, the first thing is, you gotta go after the right kind of girl. Okay, we're trying to cast a hip hop video, okay? So, what do we need? We need girls that care about how they look, just like how we carin' about our chains and we know we flashy. You need girls that are on the same tip." Nate informed the guys. "The nails. They need to look good."

"If they take care of their nails, they take care of how they look, too." Rap Monster translated in Korean.

Jennie (Oh! So, you taking shot at my chipped nails, now? Well damn. I take care of myself, although my nail polish isn't on point today!)

"Let's see Jennie's nails!" Jimin grabbed her hands.

Snatching them back, she hid her nails. "No, don't look at them, the nail polish is chipped." She warned.

"Second thing, when you approach these girls, it's great, you gotta have, what is called an ice breaker. Like a point of entry to get a conversation going. What I think is the best approach is to compliment something that you see on them. Best to compliment something on instead of her body, her face or you know, like her earrings. Like something, a small detail on them." Nate advised.

"I like your nails, and I~ love you," Jimin said in English, holding Jennie's hand as he tried to hug her.

"Boy, bye!" She playfully shoved him away, earning laughs from the guys.

"Chimchim, your English is bad." Tony declared. "So, we gonna find something that will help you get the girl, right? I think you're charming, I think you're funny. I think you're nice, okay? You go up to a girl, maybe dance, wink while dancing."

Jimin demonstrated and sat next to Nate, asking him what was his name. "I'm Natalie." He answered. 

"Nerullie?" Jimin repeated with hesitation, as a chorus of laughter filled the room

"Rap Monster, you can speak in English. That's good for you cause like, you can have a conversation with the ladies, right? One of the things that I notice is that you don't do good, you kind of look down on the floor when you think of your English. You gotta work on your eye contact." Tony advised.

"What's up?" Rap Monster approached Nate and sat next to him. "Your hat's dope. You're lookin' fresh, what's your name?"

"Natalie."

"I'm Rap Monster. How you doin'?"

"Good, how are you?"

"Ah..." He hesitated and buried his face into his hands, freaking out that he stuttered and lost his train of thought.

'Even in front of Natalie, a fake girl, Rapmon gets nervous'

"Jungkook! You're a really good singer, right? You can sing." Tony pointed out.

'Jungkook's charm is that he's a human jukebox.'

"You can sing like Chris Brown. Chris Brown's a big deal in the U.S. Right, so if you walk up to a girl, I can't sing, but if you sing a Chris Brown song, they can be like..." He acted like she was wooed.

"Oooh! Chris Brown~"

After laughing at Tony's gesture, Jungkook stood up and strode up to Nate.

'I am Chris Jungkook!'

"And I need you boo~" He started to sing.

'A sweet voice that's melting Natalie's heart.'

"Oooh!" The members of BTS look on.

Jennie (Okay, Jungkook. *Nods in approval*)

"I gotta see you boo, and the heart's all over the world tonight, said the heart's all over the world tonight~" He continued to sing and sat next to Nate.

"I like your voice." Nate complimented, portraying Natalie.

"I like you."

"WAAAAHHHHH!" Jennie and the guys yell out of shock.

Jennie dropped her jaw, shaking Jimin while he shook her, laughing out loud. "Yo! That was so bold!"

Applauding his efforts, Nate shot him a thumbs up with Tony. "That was good, that was good! But you can say, I like your style, okay? So like, yeah, cause I like you, is a bit too much like, I wanna be your boyfriend."

Turning to V, Nate called him out. "Now, the thing that you have going for you, you're like the dumb blonde of the group, okay?"

"I think everyone sees him that way." Suga teased

"I think you're the pretty boy of the group so it's like you gotta use your strength. You have broken English, so you know a little bit of English. Not a lot but use that as your strength, okay?" Nate pointed out.

"It's cute." Tony added.

"Yeah, it's cute."

"So, your thing is cute."

"Hello!" V greeted, sitting next to Nate.

"What's poppin?" Nate asked.

"My name is V. Your name is?"

"Natalie."

"Oh! Nice watch, how much?"

"How much is my watch? Ahh...I don't know, it's a gift."

"Give me your time, please."

"Like, what time is it?"

"No, your time."

"Oh, you want my watch?" Nate pointed to it, while Jennie giggled at them going back and forth.

"No, your time!"

"My number?"

"Oh! No, no, no, no!"

"Suga! Sweet Suga!" Tony called out. "So, I think Suga's the smoothest like he's laid back, he's cool. Y'know, so we're gonna play to his strength. Just be a smooth guy, just be yourself, okay?"

Suga walked over to Nate in his sunglasses and a phone in his ear. "I have chain." He said in broken English, sitting next to Nate.

"You have chains, that don't mean nothing to me."

"You like this?" Suga touched his chains

"It's alright." He shrugged.

"You like this, you like this chain? Three dollars."

"PFFFhahaha!" Jennie laughed out loud with V.

"J-Hope! What's your strength? What are you good at?" Tony asked.

"I'm dance." J-Hope replied in Broken English.

"You dance, then give her a rose." He suggested.

'J-Hope's charm is being a romanticist dancer'

"Hi, excuse me." J-Hope approached Nate, sitting next to him. "Have you heard my song?"

"Nope." He replied.

"Uh no? Good, good music."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He nodded and stayed silent, making everyone make a beeping noise, signaling that he was done.

"Jin, something tells me he's the more shy towards himself." Tony pointed out and stood up.

"Walk up like this. And say, 'Can you tell me how to get to so and so?"

"You understand, you're like the third best in English, in the group." Nate went on.

Jin acted like a tourist and approached Nate. "Ah, hi." He sat down next to him. "I'm Jin, can you speak Korean?"

"No."

"You don't know, annyeonghaseyo?"

"No."

"No? You know coffee?"

"Yes."

"I want coffee and where is the coffee shop."

"There one down there, on the corner of the Hollywood & Wilshire." Nate pointed out. "Like it's this way, two blocks."

"Uh, you can't speak Korean? I want to go coffee shop with you. Let's go."

"Oh dear!" Jennie laughed as she watched Jin grab Nate by the wrist.

"Especially with the language barrier, you guys are all doing very well." Nate complimented them after they settled down.

"Remember your skill, okay?" Tony reminded them.

"All right, let's go!"

------

In the van, Rap Monster asked, "Hey, have you guys done this before? To a girl, you don't know?"

"Not even once!" Jimin replied.

"You guys never tried, even once?"

"How do we suddenly try to talk to a girl that's just passing by?"

"Have you talked to any guys in America? Guys you didn't know?" Rap Monster turned to Jennie.

"I've had a few crushes, but I never really approached them." She shrugged.

"Jennie, this is your stop." The producer told her.

"All right, peace out guys." She got out of the van with a small camera crew.

"Bye, Jennie! Good luck!" J-Hope grinned.

"Smile!" Jungkook encouraged.

"Use that charm!" Suga added.

"You got this, Ennie!" V cheered.

"Don't end up getting a boyfriend!" Jin warned.

She rolled her eyes playfully and waved her hand at them, brushing the goofy comment aside, before the van leaves. "Okay...looks like we're at a skate park. Interesting."

Jennie (A skate park. I gotta find a guy at a skate park. On this nice sunny day. Wish me luck!)

Walking around, she looked like she was lost. There were a bunch of guys there, of different ages. Even a few girls that were skating around. She wanted to find someone that was near her age.

"Look out!" A guy shouted as she quickly moved out of the way. He skateboarded right past her, getting off to approach her. "Sorry about that, are you all right?"

Checking to see if she was hurt, she nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good, thanks." 

"You don't look like you come to the skate park often if you're standing around in the middle where people skate." He let out a soft laugh.

"Eh heh heh, yeah..." She shrugged.

"What's your name?"

"Jennie. And you?"

"I'm Ryan. You know, you look familiar...I can't help but think I've seen you before."

"I get that a lot."

"No, really. Weren't you a part of a group?"

Jennie (You know...It still shocks me that people remember me from those days. I mean, it wasn't that long ago, but it's nice to know that I'm remembered.)

"Yes, Amity."

"Yeah, I thought so. Wow, you're way prettier in person, that's for sure."

"Thank you, I'm actually shooting a music video. I'm in a K-Pop group. I'm looking for people to shoot, with me. Would you like to join?"

"Really? Sounds cool. My girlfriend would love to meet you, she's a fan of yours."

Jennie (Of course...he has a girlfriend. Ahhh the last thing I need is some girl to be wallin' out because I'm around her boyfriend. Seen it too many times. My patience will thin if I'm around it and if she's the jealous type.)

"Wow, really? I'm so flattered. Thank you." She shot him a small smile.

"I may have to work but if I can make it, I'll come. Can my girlfriend come, too?"

"Yeah, of course. Can we take a picture?"

"Always!" He shot up the shaka sign and took the picture with her.

Jennie (One guy. Let's see if I can find another. Someone I can approach.)

Later, she saw a caramel skinned guy, who looked around her age. He was sitting on a bench, taking off his helmet to reveal his wild, curly hair. With his skateboard, next to him on the ground, he opened up a bottle of water to take a few big gulps.

"Hm. Why not." She decided to approach him. "Hey! Nice skateboard!" She pointed at the cool designs on the board.

As the sun shined on him, she could see the sweat glistening off his skin. He looked up at her, staring at her in his hazel eyes, he flashed her a grin, giving her a friendly vibe.

"Thanks." His voice was deep, yet kind.

"I'm Jennie."

"Kevin." He stood up to shake her hand. He was a few inches taller than her. "Do you come here, often?"

"No, this is my first time, I was just observing, seeing if I like skateboarding. How old are you?"

"17."

"I'm 16. Since it's my first time, do you mind showing me the basics? You look like you know your stuff."

"Yeah, sure." He gestured her over to his skateboard. Standing on top of it, she grabs onto him. "What made you interested in skateboarding?"

"Eh, I've been seeing it everywhere, I wanted to know what the hype is."

"I'm sure you'll like it after I teach you a few moves." He guaranteed. He grabbed her hand and guided her while she moved around on the skateboard.

"I'm not gonna fall, am I? You'll catch me, right?"

Letting out a warm chuckle, he nodded. "I won't let you fall. Don't worry."

Jennie (This guy is chill and so respectful. I never got into skateboarding, I just said what I said to start a conversation. But he makes skateboarding interesting. I might want to try it out and get into it, in the future.)

After being taught the basics and sharing a few laughs and corny jokes, she sat down with him, on the bench. "Is skateboarding all that you like to do?" She asked.

"Nah, I like music."

"Sweet, me too!"

"You do? What do you do?"

"I sing and dance. I can also play the guitar."

"That's ight. I play the drums."

"Wow. Very interesting. You know, I'm a part of a group. We're filming a music video. I was wondering, would you like to be a part of it?"

"Music video, huh? What genre?"

"K-Pop."

"What's K-Pop?"

"Korean Pop. I can let you listen to some songs!" She took out her phone and played a Big Bang song.

"Yeah, I heard of this! Oh, so this is K-Pop. They're good. I find their music catchy."

"I know right. So what do you say?"

Jennie (Please say yes, PLEASE)

Kevin shrugged. "Why not."

Sighing out of relief, she happily cheered. "Awesome! Thank you! Let's take a picture, together." She pulled up the camera on her phone.

-----

'Music Video Set'

Walking in the place, BTS and Jennie were in awe, as they were all dressed up for their music video. Jennie wore jean shorts with a flannel around her waist, along with a loose tank top. While they check out the pool, they think about 50 Cent's We Up music video and how he shot the music video at the same place.

'Today's shooting set is full of hip hop style'

Jennie checks out the view around the poolside. So many buildings and a beautiful blue sky with scattered clouds around as she felt a breeze, against her skin, it was a pleasant day.

As she admired the view, Jungkook approached her, with his camera. "Jennie! What are you doing, right now?"

"Checking out the amazing view! Ain't it pretty?"

"It sure is. How are you feeling about the shoot?"

"Nervous. I hope everyone comes. I wonder what might happen if no one shows up."

"We'll use our staff, then!" He suggested.

"Hahah!"

As Jungkook went back inside, he and the rest of the guys were patiently waiting for their casting girls to come. "Someone's coming!" Jimin shouted.

Suddenly, the same guy Jennie was hanging out with yesterday, Kevin, arrived.

He looked cleaned up from the sporty outfit he wore yesterday. He had his hair cut with waves, wearing a clean pair of jeans and a black blazer under a white tank top. He arrived with his parents who wanted to support him

"Hey, is this where the music video is?" He asked, looking around as Rap Monster nodded. "Is Jennie, here?"

"Oh! It's Jennie's guy! Jennie! Come inside!" J-Hope gestured to her.

Turning around, she saw Kevin waving at her. "Ah!" She screamed and speed ran inside, making the guys laugh at her enthusiasm. "You're here!" She pulled him in for a big hug. 

"Told you, I would."

Pulling away, she checked out his outfit. "Oh, wow, you really cleaned up for me. You look good."

She turned to his parents. "Hi, I'm Jennie. It's nice to meet you." She shook their hands. "Thank you for having him, here."

"Of course. And I wasn't going to let him look any ol' type of way for a beautiful girl, like you. My son knows better." His father put a hand on his shoulder.

"I hope he looks okay for the shoot." His mother mentioned.

"He looks great. Thank you." Jennie reassured her.

With the Bangtan Boys, they watched as Jennie happily talked to Kevin and his parents. 

"Of course, Jennie's guy comes first. You never keep a girl waiting." Jimin pointed out. "He's handsome,"

"He is. Jennie picked a good one," Hobi grinned.

After waiting, Jin and J-Hope's girl, Jewel, with the green sunglasses, arrive. Then V, Jungkook and Suga's girl, Victoria. And lastly, Jimin and Rap Monster's girl, Christina.

Afterward, Warren G approached them and greeted them. "We're here, Los Angeles, California, man! But before we go any further, I wanted to congratulate you guys on picking some very beautiful ladies, and to you, Jennie, picking out this fresh looking, young man. We're gonna shoot this Boy In Luv, video shoot. And let everybody know how we're supposed to do it. I'm gonna give you guys some pointers, on certain things. Check you guys out, make sure y'all doing it, right. Let's get it in!"

'There are a total of 3 places where they will film at'

'Sofa, kitchen and swimming pool'

'With three areas to film at in the luxury mansion, shall we now start filming this swag filled music video?'

Team trouble was first while Jennie watched them prepare. She couldn't help but giggle at Jungkook's shyness as he began to fan himself. Later, she overheard Victoria say, "Jimin is pabo." when V asked her to.

"Pfff!" Rap Monster stiffed a laugh.

"What the hell!" Jimin looked on, dumbfounded.

"HAHAHA! She unintentionally called him dumb." Jennie laughed with Kevin.

When it was time for Jennie to film, she sat on the couch while the song was playing.

He wants to be my oppa. Shall I call him oppa?

Sliding to sit on the couch, Kevin presents her with a rose and she happily accepts it.

What should I do? Why is my face getting so hot from his intense stares?

Glancing at him, she looked away, pretending to be shy while he wrapped an arm around her, getting closer.

The next filming sessions went successfully, with gestures such as him coming up behind her, presenting her with a rose, wrapping an arm around her and even kissing her on the cheek, which caught the guys' attention.

"Ah! He kissed her!" V pointed in surprise.

"What!?" Jungkook and Jimin shouted, turning their heads to where Jennie was filming.

Kissed her?

Who?

What?

Where?

How?

WHY?

"I hope he asked for permission," Jin spoke up as he watched the two like a hawk.

Jimin whined. "Why is he kissing my Jennie? Ennie, why have you betrayed me? She's cheating on me, hyung." He grabbed onto Jin, in despair. "What am I going to do?"

After getting some pointers to add more gestures and have more eye contact, Jen and Kevin head to the pool to film their last shot. For the shot, she took off his sunglasses and put them on her eyes instead, while attempting to ignore his advances. 

"Hehehe, remember when Jennie was so nervous when I got so close to her as we filmed a shot for Boy in Luv?" Jimin teased. "She seems more comfortable, now. I wonder how comfortable she'll be when we film our new music videos for our upcoming album."

Sitting at poolside, on one of the blue lounge chairs, Jennie and Jungkook sat next to each other. "I just want to hurry up and become an adult," Jungkook mentioned on camera.

"Oh really? Why?" She asked as he turned to face her.

"When you're an adult, you can like, smoke cigarettes and stuff but my dad smokes and I really hate it. Can I send a video message to my dad?" He turned to the camera. "Dad! Please stop smoking. Yeah? It's not good for your liver! Either buy an e-cig or quit smoking. All the bad stuff is piling up, inside of you, right now. So, when you see this, I hope you, I want you to quit smoking."

"With me, I'm kind of looking forward to being an adult. Get to try out new experiences that teen me can't do at the moment."

"Whenever Jennie and I are around the staff, they don't drink alcohol because of us."

"Jungkook will be drinking before me though. I'm not drinking until I'm 21 in America. Because my parents will obliterate me if they catch me drinking underage, even if I'm 21 in Korean age."

"I want to learn how to drive."

"Me too, I should already be learning, but oh well. One day." She shrugged.

"Driving and a tattoo. I want to get a tattoo."

Surprised, she stared at him. "You serious?"

"Yep." He shot her his trademark bunny smile.

"Where do you want a tattoo?"

"I'm not sure, yet."

"What are you two mumbling about?" Suga walked over to them

"I saw that one of the girls has a tattoo behind her neck. So, I want one, too." Jungkook explained.

"You're saying you want a tattoo on TV?" Suga scolded.

"Why? When I become an adult!"

"I think he's out of his mind, right now."

"What? I don't think so. Tattoos are cool." Jennie spoke up. "Jungkook is going to look awesome with tattoos if he chooses to get them,"

"You want one, too?" Suga asked. "So many of our fans are being sad, right now."

"Hahaha, I didn't say I want one. Never crossed my mind."

#bts #bangtan boys #American hustle life #the bangtan girl #jungkook x oc #bts 8th member #bts additional member #bts added member #bts female member

[contemporarybardess]

Remember Who You Are || Elora Solo

Parties: @contemporarybardess

Timing: Current, during the eclipse

Location: Elora’s Home

Triggers: Parental Death

Summary: Elora gets ready to enjoy the eclipse, but is visited by a familiar spirit instead

The fog was getting unbearable. All Elora wanted to do was go out and put up posters for the dog she found, but she couldn’t even see well enough to venture too far away from her house! At least, that was her excuse. In actuality, she really wanted an excuse to keep the dog as her own.

As the sky overhead darkened, she quickly grabbed her special eclipse glasses. She hadn’t realized it was already time! The phenomenon still fascinated her, even though she had seen several already. 

“It’s an oddly beautiful sight, isn’t it?” 

The voice came from behind her, just inside her home, and made her stand stock still. She turned around slowly, and saw…nothing. She had forgotten to take her eclipse glasses off. After she removed them, she saw something that flooded her with a complex mix of emotions. 

Her mother.

“M…mom?” She immediately felt herself burst into tears at the sight of her. Desperately, she reached out to try and pull her mother into an embrace, but could grab only the air in front of her. It hurt. It hurt that she couldn’t touch her but it also overjoyed her to at least see her and hear her voice again. 

“I want to hold you too, love, but right now this is all we can manage,” her mother said, tears welling up in her own eyes.

She had so many questions. So much she wanted to say. Eventually, one question emerged above all others. 

“Where’s Dad?”

“The eclipse is what’s allowing you to see me. Unfortunately your father and I weren’t sure if you could see both of us at once, so decided I should be the one here to see you.”

She couldn’t believe it. She was really here. She…she didn’t deserve to have her here. She didn’t deserve this level of love and compassion after what she had done. She was almost relieved her father wasn’t here so she wouldn’t have to face him. 

“Little dove, you know it isn’t your fault.” Elora’s mother’s words cut through her self loathing. Just as it always had, her voice had wrapped around her like a blanket and made her feel safe again.

“Your father and I both love you very much. I wish I could stay longer but…the power is only here for a short time.” 

“Your ring…” Elora began to say while looking down at her hand, confessing she had more or less pawned it to Alistair. 

“Your hand! Damn the ring, I’m glad your hand is back to normal! Awful thing that that brute did to you” her mother answered back immediately. 

“You don’t hate me for what happened?” Elora finally asked after a period of silence. She had always carried the weight with her that her parents may have cursed her name in their final moments.

“Elora…” her mother began, surprised and sounding somewhat hurt by the question. “You are our daughter no matter what. And we’re proud to call you our daughter. I mean, look at you now! Starting your own life, forging your own path. You have a very lovely home and were smart enough to get it for free! Not to mention a job and a girlfriend. What more can a parent ask for?” 

Before she could answer, the visage of Elora’s mother began to fade. 

“We love you, forever and always” were the last words she uttered before she faded away forever. She was gone…again. Just as she did, the sky brightened again. But to Elora, it was just as dull out as ever. 

Still, she felt the weight of her guilt completely lift from her shoulders. It was a heavy load, heavier than she thought it would be. She could do nothing but continue sobbing. Sobbing in joy, sadness, grief, and absolution. A cacophony emotion all released in one large torrent of tears. When she was done, however, she had never felt better.

#contemporarybardess #wickedswriting #Remember Who You Are #Eclipse Ghosts #parental death tw

[blue-eli]

The Sheet™️

notes under cut:

-Ventus and Kairi are singlehandedly responsible for all of the others with blue eyes and I think that’s funny

-original/KHUx Ventus had green eyes! When Xehanort split him in two the colour also split into blue (Wayfinder/BBS Ventus) and yellow (Vanitas). They are both extremely weirded out by this, as far as both of them are concerned they’re eyes should be green.

-Sora was born with grey eyes with a green starburst he inherited from his father! He lost them as an infant when he helped Ventus post-split, when they turned blue (pre-Vani Sora) which was quite a shock for his parents lol.

-when he was four taking Ventus (and Vanitas) into his heart proper ended with him gaining his green starburst! His blue also darkens a bit. These are the eyes he has for pretty much the rest of his life.

-Kairi’s eyes are the only ones that never change, she keeps her dark blue from start to finish.

-Naminé got Sora’s blue while Roxas got Kairi’s! Both have little green flecks from Ventus too :)!

-Xion’s eyes are a mix of Sora’s lighter and darker blue (from pre-Vani, and post).

-post Sora (or Kairi in Naminé’s case) everyone gets more flecks!! Symbolic flecks!

-Roxas and Naminé both get flecks of their somebody’s eye colour!

-Ventus gets flecks of Sora’s blue, while Vanitas gets flecks the colour of baby Sora’s green starburst. Vanitas’ represents the idea of him coming to terms with not ever being Ventus and accepting just chilling in Sora’s heart (tho the fact he has these eyes at all DOES suggest he gets out), while Ventus’ is like a visual representation of the mark sheltering in Sora left on him as well as the fact that he joined together with Vanitas but STAYED his own person. He will never be that green young Ventus again and he never wanted to be.

-Xion!!! Gets!!! All the colours!!! It’s what she deserves<3 I imagine she actually started getting them when she accidentally started stealing memories, but they would have looked a bit more chaotic and patched together then. Now she has pretty flecks circling her pupil and her dark blue is now a starburst!!! The only person’s colour she doesn’t have is Kairi rip Kairi

-Naminé has the palest skin colour and Xion has the darkest.

-Sora and Roxas are the only ones to share a skin-tone, everyone else has unique shades, even wayfinder Ventus has a different one to original Ventus.

-Ventus and Naminé have the same hair colour!

-Roxas definitely is blonde because of Ven but he inherited some ginger from Kairi.

-Similarly, Xion got her black from Vanitas but her exact shade is actually unique!

-no fucking idea where Vanitas got his black tho,,,

-Sora inherited his hair from his Moma<3 its a smidge lighter then hers but it’s hers<3

-og Ventus, wayfinder Ventus, and Vanitas all have slightly elongated pupils, which was a daybreak town trait, that they’d share with the other Dandelions. They can also see slightly better in the dark; Vanitas especially, this means his pupils contract so much in normal daylight he looks snakelike. Everyone else is normal<3

#kingdom hearts #heart hotel #kh headcanons #kh sora #kh ventus #kh kairi #kh xion #kh namine #Naminé #kh roxas #kh Vanitas #kh #khux Ventus #digital art #blue boi draws #fanart #this started as me going ‘there are too many characters with blue eyes in kh’. I have not changed anyone’s blue eyes #(except og Ven and baby Sora but considering those change I don’t think they count) #I have... SO many headcanons #I do headcanon other blue eyed characters to have different shades (off the top of my head Terra and aqua and technically Riku #but that’s technically canon) but the heart hotel got to keep their blue #the ‘Roxas has Kairi’s eyes and Naminé has Sora’s’ was a headcanon I stole but I don’t remember who from #I love it a lot tho. it’s cute #if Ven or Van got their green back it would be Vani because Ventus got the rest of the body in the divorce I think he deserves it/hj

[theluckywizard]

Happy friday lucky!! For some Rose Backstory, "We were always meant to say goodbye" (could be with her old fiance or the gamemaster or some other tryst)

Maybe not the backstory you were expecting, but here's another random chunk of distraction fic I cooked up last Friday! For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 892 Ship: Rose Trevelyan x Garrett Hawke Characters: Rose Trevelyan, Garrett Hawke, Bethany, Varric, Bann and Lady Trevelyan. Leandra Hawke 🥺

CW: Major character death (canon)

Rose weeps for him. Still unclear about the details other than that they were too dark to share in any sort of public announcement, she watches him through the hungry flames of the pyre and lets her tears wash her cheeks. Bethany stands beside him, and her Templar escort behind her. 

And Garrett watches Rose.

His look is carried on more than a year of their letters. Thick ones with words and doodles crammed up the margins. Letters that had taken all the embers they’d left behind and fanned them into a steady blaze. Ones her parents tolerated with worn out hopes that she might come around to the idea of marriage after all. But the news of Leandra’s death had reached the Trevelyans and they’d departed for Kirkwall before Garrett's own letter would have arrived.

All the color and spunk is banished from his gaze, leaving behind an agonized, depleted look that reaches desperately across for hers. It pleads with her for a thousand things and hers offers them all, bare before him in all her stiff Wintermarch finery.

Kirkwall’s first families make a show of mourning her while Hawke’s friends hang back behind him in a mix of armor and formalwear. The Chantry’s high cleric, Mother Elthina reads from the chant.

I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade

For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light

And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost. 

Rose lets her words slip into a hum in the back of her mind as she focuses on Garrett through the pyre, working out how she might slip from her family later to see him. What could she possibly say? Their reunion was never supposed be like this. They’d joked in letters that he’d make the ride and they’d steal away to some secret corner of Fenwick to forget about everything for an afternoon. The undercurrent of more flowed steadily under their exchange

Rose moves along with the rest of the Trevelyans in the receiving line, her parents leading her. The line lumbers to a simple dirge, a lone chantry sister singing to the soft, hollow tones of a tom. She hurries to gather the right words, ones that might capture the morass of feeling that twists inside her, but she’s suffocated by them. And when he touches her hand would everyone see what lies between them?

First her father shakes Garrett's hand in his and then her mother clasps his in both of hers. And then she steps before him, her cheeks shining in the mute light of an overcast winter day. He accepts her hand but then reaches up to brush a tear of hers aside with his thumb. The curious looks of his friends and others present bear down upon them, pressing their time together.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he murmurs, hanging on to her gloved hand with his.

“I know,” she says, observing that his hair is cut much shorter than it had been the last time she saw him. His eyes were somehow bluer than she remembered, but all around them is creased and darkened by exhaustion. An incipient beard adorns his jaw, evidence he’s been too preoccupied to care for himself since his mother passed.

“Where are you staying?”

“The Flying Harp.”

He nods. “I’ll come visit.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Rose tells him. The protest in his eyes is immediate. He’d had her for a week last time.

“So soon?” Bethany asks, her cheeks mottled and lashes sticky. “I was hoping you might get to spend some time here.” She glances up at her brother and then back at her Templar keeper behind her. Rose presses Bethany’s hands between hers like they’ve known each other longer than the scant few hours they’d sat together the last time.

“Fenwick is but two days’ ride,” Rose tells her and then flicks a meaningful look back to Garrett. 

“You’re holding the line, dear,” says Alsatia over her shoulder, tugging on Rose’s elbow.

Varric hurries after her in such a way that he draws sharp looks from each of her parents.

“Lady Rose, wait,” he says. “You’re not really leaving tomorrow, are you?”

“I’m at the mercy of my parents,” Rose explains.

“He needs you,” says the dwarf. “I mean— I could use the back up. He hasn’t taken any visitors.”

“I’ll try to see him. No guarantees. They’re not easy to escape,” she says softly, glancing back at them.

“You know if you’d stayed last time, things would be different,” mutters the dwarf. “You know that right?”

Rose feels her indignance rise against such an obvious conclusion. “Maybe. But even you know he and I were always meant to say goodbye. It was a mutual decision.”

Varric looks admonished, troubled by the whole affair, Rose suspects. If it hadn’t been obvious from her first visit, Garrett's letters confirmed that Leandra was their a mother hen, welcoming and attending to Garrett's odd gang in spite of the antiquated judgments she’d unleash when they weren’t around. The dwarf pleads with her again. “You gotta try, Freckles.”

The nickname takes her back— Garrett Hawke the Nug King and his lady friend Freckles. She flushes at the remembrance and flicks her eyes back to his.

“The Flying Harp, Varric. Tell him to find me there.”

#DA2 #Hawke x Trevelyan #MatchmakingMoms!AU #rose trevelyan #Garrett Hawke #Blue-purple Hawke #Long distance love #whumpy reunion #Leandra Hawke #Dragon Age 2 #Canon Divergence

[xxmyhomexx]

HEAVEN’S SECRET 2: Lucifer’s Revenge

This is just a short about the tragic ending I drafted for Lucifer and Vicky against Plague. This is about their son, named after his deceased father by Austie. It is a LONG ONE!

~~~

Thirty years. I’ve been raised for thirty years surrounded by angels and demons in harmony, akin to different realms but somehow are at peace with the fact that the Four Horsemen are dead, except for one barbarian: the one I intend to destroy.

Looking at himself in the mirror of his black and red decorated bedroom, Lucifer’s mix-matched wings flapped around him as he straightened the tunic he wore. Today, he’d stop by the dungeons of The Citadel, where they kept the woman who darkened his realm with slavery, dominance, and genocide. The same woman that killed his mother and father: the parents who died to protect him, the ones he never got to meet, or to be raised and loved unconditionally.

“It’s not fair…” the thoughts left his mouth. “IT’S NOT FAIR!”

In one move, he slammed his fist against mirror, shards clacking on the floor. Just like his father, he adorned tattoos of the memories his adoptive mother told him, all in dedication of Vicky and Lucifer. The designs were intricate, heavenly, and almost no inch of skin could be seen on his entire arms, torso, all the way to his throat.

“LUCIFER!” A feminine voice startled him towards the door. Austie tossed her long hair over her shoulder, eyes drawn into her infamous scowl as she stomped towards him. He plucked at the red horns on his head, pretending to dust them off as she harrumphed while plucking mirror shards from his knuckles.

“That’s the fifth mirror you destroyed in three months. Your grandfather is getting tired of replacing them!” She stomped an impatient heeled foot as she stared into his red eyes. Austie was a good two-foot shorter than Lucifer, her face and green eyes shadowed by the ever-youthful appearance that never changed. Her midnight hair fell over her back in a long braid as she grabbed a cloth to wrap his bloodied hand.

“It’ll heal, Mother,” he shrugged. “I can wrap my own wounds.”

“You can change bandages,” Austie eye-rolled. “But you can’t change stupid.”

“I am almost ready to leave,” Lucifer assured her. “I just need my sword.”

“Dino has it, and you won’t be traveling with him. I’m going this time.”

“But, Mother-”

He was cut off by a threatening wave of Austie’s hand, indicating she was not ashamed to slap some sense into her own son. Lucifer held his hands in surrender with a smirk, backing down when he knew even he couldn’t win an argument against her. Austie scoffed as her dress’s slit swooshed with the sway of her hips, motioning him to sit down on his bed.

“It’s been years. Are you sure you want to go? Mimi and Malbonte, they can take care of Plague.”

Lucifer gritted his teeth. He shot up from the bed, eyeing the tattoo of his parents’ in an embrace, their bodies shielded by their joined wings. It enraged him to hear her name, and now he was more than ready to kill that bitch. Austie’s green eyes lit with worry as his red orbs bore into hers.

“I. Will. Crush. Her.”

“Luci!” Austie grabbed his bandaged hand. “No. Your temper, you’re not going to get out of control!”

“So you don’t want me to kill her?!” Lucifer snarled.

“Oh, I desire this the same as you, but your father’s temper…” Austie hesitated. “It…it killed him and your mother.”

Lucifer’s red eyes stilled as he sank onto the bed, fiery rage replaced with free-flowing tears. His father may not have been an all-kind man, but he thought more with his heart than anyone in Heaven or Hell. He was harsh and brash, reacting out of emotional response, because it was the way he lived: the only reason he died with Vicky. He knew he’d die with her, remembering what Austie told him: Lucifer held his son all night, spending the only day they’d share before his demise.

“I never got to meet them,” he sobbed. “I-I w-w-wanted them to love me! I want my Father! I…I want my real Mother!”

He gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth in shock. “I didn’t mean-”

“Stop,” Austie cupped his face, kneeling in front of him. “I’m still here, and I’m staying.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. He let the tears out: for Vicky, his father, and Austie, the woman who had no claim over him but raised him as her own, as his mother wanted. When he calmed, he scratched his nose and got up, leading her down the gothic stares of her house to the front door, wrapping her cloak on her shoulders and pecking a kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you, Mother.”

Austie smirked as Dino flew towards them, holding out his sword. Unsheathing it, Lucifer followed the demonic hand that crawled up the handle to the end of the blade. The Plague Killer, he called it, would be the one to end the one she used it on.

“Let’s go.”

~~~

“GET UP!” Austie barked, kicking a foot across the air across the already-battered woman’s face. In the dungeons of the Citadel, the tangled remains of a once twisted queen, crumpled into a ball on the floor. Plague’s grey hair fell over her face as blood splashed on Austie’s black pumps. The demoness hissed as her spiked heel dug into her spine.

Plague moaned through swollen lips as she stared at the angry demon. Her face was bruised, blackened, and pathetic. Her once radiant grey-pink skin now faded into a hideous ashy-rust. She was not wearing the form-fitting black dress that once clung to her curves, instead filthy threaded rags that emphasized the numerous scars adorned from the war she inflicted on their realm. Blood sloshed from the wound under her chin as she sucked in a sharp breath, crawling to her knees.

“Is…is that all?” She rasped.

Nope. Austie kicked again, this time with the opposite foot on the opposite side. Plague grunted backward again, splayed out on her back. Her chest heaved as her tormenter knelt down, grabbed her by the hair and hoisting her like a limp ragdoll.

“You’ll wish it was. That’s just a taste of my rage.” She hissed. “Was it fun playing ruler? Was it fun watching your brothers die horribly on the battlefield?”

Plague’s stubborn smile faded. Austie gleefully licked her lips.

“Oh, yes. You should have seen our army slaughter them. Their deaths were too quick, but the way their bodies hit the ground, and their screams howled into the night was just…Mwah!”

She kissed her fingertips with a giggle. “Such a shame you didn’t join them. We were surprised to see you alive, but it made it all the better for us.”

Austie’s smile faded as she tugged on Plague’s scalp. “You took Lucifer and Vicky from us. I may have considered her a rival for him, but I never hated her. I HATE HOW THEIR CHILD WILL NEVER KNOW HIS PARENTS!” Her screams echoed through the dungeon.

Plague’s swollen eyes reflected surprise. “Their…their child?” Her voice was hoarse. Austie dropped her on the ground and walked in front of her, kneeling with a sick, malicious grin.

She sighed. “That beautiful baby. I’ll never forget how Vicky slipped him in my arms, how she told me to raise him as my own. Truth is, that can never be, but he is my son and he’s been waiting for this moment. Lucifer!”

The cell’s door swung open, and Plague had to do a double-take to make sure she was seeing him correctly. Lucifer looked just like his father, with the same build and inked from the neck down. His red eyes glared at her, his teeth gritting so hard they might crack from the pressure. He unsheathed his sword as Austie rested a hand on his shoulder.

“You,” his deep voice rang in her ears. “You’re her? The one who killed my family?”

Plague rose to her feet, clutching her aching side. “You must be…Lucifer and Vicky’s son.”

“And their successor for Hell’s throne, thanks to Mother,” he pointed the blade at her neck.

Plague blinked twice. “I…I’m not surprised to see this. I’ve been tortured here far too long, and now you’ve come for your revenge.”

“Not just revenge, but for justice as well,” Austie cut in. “Lucifer, end her now.”

Lucifer raised his sword over his head.

“Wait!” Plague gasped. “We can—”

Squelch! The sword shifted through the air, taking her head off with her last words. Her body fell to the ground, and Lucifer picked up Plague’s gaping cranium. He sucked in a breath and exhaled, dropping what remained of her body on the ground.

“Tell someone to clean it up. I have avenged my family.”

Austie rubbed his shoulder as they exited the dungeon together.

#romance club #heaven's secret #vicky #lucifer #austie