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itsoutrageouss · 2 years

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Can you do an Eddie x reader angst where reader is a cheerleader that has a MASSIVE crush on Eddie. She asked him out but because she’s a cheerleader he thinks it a joke and mocks her etc

a/n: hey sweetheartss- thank you so fkn much for all the love on my last Eddie post. This is sorta similar but a different scenario- hope you enjoy <3

warnings: kinda mean!eddie in the beginning obv, reader feeling humiliated, super mega fluffy cute ending!!!!

Nice fucking try - e. m.

—☕️

He was never at any of the games- which fair enough, why would he be?

Yet you couldn’t help the disappointment when you scanned the crowd for a specific mop of curls with no luck. You had practiced the fuck out of this routine and yet no one would probably be looking at you- they’d all look at chrissy instead.

It was like this often. You’d search for Eddie, and when you finally caught him, you’d sit and watch his sporadic movements and tales, admiring him from afar. He had sent a couple of sweet smiles your way; that was your only lifeline to him and you being a possibility. You were a cheerleader after all, and you knew how the basket team treated people like Eddie. You knew he probably thought the same of you but you were aching to prove him otherwise.

You had to do something about the way your heart was on fire for him, a bird beating itself to death in a cage, a moth around a lamppost- you couldn’t keep letting it burn until there was only ashes left.

You knew he had his usual hellfire club meeting today, and suddenly the routine you were doing was the least of your concerns- you even stepped on someone’s toes in the process but it didn’t matter. You were going for it. You were gonna give him the sweetest smile and the most sincere smile and ask Eddie Munson on a date, no matter what any of your friends thought. No matter to what depths your social status would go. You would risk it for him, you were head over heels after all.

After changing quickly while ignoring the annoyed look from your friends ‘cause of your routine slip up, you hurried to the hellfire club room.

Rocking back and forth in your converse, you leaned against a locker while fiddling with the strap of your gym bag. No sooner did the door fling open and several members left the room, mainly ignoring you or giving you a suspicious side-eye, except Mike who waved to you, since you knew Nancy. She was one of the few people who you trusted with your feelings about Eddie. When all had left, you stepped inside to see Eddie packing up from the campaign.

You didn’t say anything, heart suddenly in your throat and palms sweaty. The fabric of his white t-shirt was stretching over his back and he reached over the table, not yet noticing your presence.

“Eddie?” You asked softly, but he still jumped at your voice, a few dices clattering to the ground. The room was ominously lit, casting amber shadows over his pretty face.

“Uh, yes?” He asked slightly confused- suspicion already bleeding from his tone. He picked the dice off of the floor and continued to pack everything away while you stood.

“I uhm- well I don’t know if you know my name-“

“- y/n, yeah. I know.” He grumbled, not seeming particularly interested in what you had to say. You tried not to let it defeat the courage that had etched into your skin, dripping on your tongue.

“Was it a good… campaign?” You asked with a weary voice. You had secretly picked up a little starter guide to the dice game Eddie seemed so passionate about, to try and understand him better.

He scoffed. What kind of fucking foolery was the jocks up to now?

He didn’t even bother replying, knowing that wasn’t the reason you were here, was probably a fucking trick question already. You cheerleaders were like little heathens.

When he didn’t reply you felt your face flush in embarrassment- had you said something wrong?

“Okay well uh- I was wondering if,” you stuttered, fumbled over all your words as you kept fidgeting with your bag. The bird in the cage surely almost done for. The moth was growing tired.

“- if you’d like to do something with me sometime? Like hangout? On- on a date or something like that?” You asked. Your voice was breathy and the words came out a lot faster and unsure than you would’ve liked.

Finally he diverted his attention to you, his figure turning torturously slow, a finger raised in the air in front of him. “You’re asking me out?” He asked incredulously. He didn’t believe they would try such an old trick on him.

“Nice fucking tryyyy Princess,” he said loudly, voice dragging out the words- in case any of your friends were on the other side of the door laughing their asses off.

“What, you’d take me out to a nice dinner, laugh at my jokes and let me take you home to my scrappy little trailer? Is that what you want?” He laughed humourlessly, tongue rolling around his cheek while he stalked towards you.

“I- I mean that sounds fine to me?” You tried, voice more unsteady than ever. You couldn’t tell what was happening but the bird and the moth were lying helplessly in your heart and hot tears tickled the corners of your eyes.

“That sounds fine to you? I’m not falling for this shit, little witch. Run back to your friends, will ya?” He didn’t even spare you another glance as he finished cleaning the table and flung his leather jacket on.

You stood motionless, throat bobbing in an effort not to cry. He hadn’t just rejected you, he had completely misjudged you with no after thought- discarded you because of prejudices. You stormed out of the room with a horrible mix of rage and shame washing over you.

—☕️

“Something sick happened when all you little sheep left hellfire yesterday,” Eddie began as he placed his lunch tray drown dramatically. He glared over to the jocks table, surprised to instead find you sitting alone, sulking.

“What’s up?” Dustin asked curiously, biting into his apple.

“Little miss y/l/n tried to ask me out yesterday. Tried to humiliate me- but this mighty fucking game master didn’t fall for it,” he said almost proudly, digging into his lunch.

“Woah she asked you out? Was that why she was outside hellfire?” Mike said, voice borderline serious in a way that caught both Dustin and Eddies attention.

“Yes, so? Was expecting me to waltz right into that little trap,” he scoffed.

“Y/n asked you out? Dude she likes you! Seriously- I heard Nance and her talking about it a couple weeks ago in the car. She’s like over the moon for you, man.” Mike gestured around wildly to punctuate his words and their meaning.

Eddie stopped eating instantly, whatever was in his hand clattering to the tray as he looked over to your hunched figure again- head down, not eating, not talking.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- please tell me you’re joking kid.” He tried desperately, looking between Mike and Dustin who didn’t waver at all. “Nope. No joke. Can’t stop talking about you I swear.”

Eddie buried his head in his hands.

A pretty, nice cheerleader had asked him out- had a fucking crush on him and he mocked her like that? Scared her away? The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks as he dragged his palms over his face and through his hair, reliving the whole experience yesterday; how nervous you had been, how you asked him about this campaign.

Before his mind could prepare him more, he jumped from his seat and ran through the cafeteria, nearly stumbling and drawing all eyes to him as usual.

You looked up, throat twisting into knots as you saw Eddie sit, literally, on his knees on the floor next to the bench where you sat in your solitude.

“Y/n-“ he said, almost out of breath. His eyes were so big and soft, so pleading and glossy, it touched your heart despite the way he broke it yesterday.

“Y/n I’m so sorry. I thought you were messing with me yesterday. Thought it was some kind of joke from your friends or- I didn’t- I didn’t know you meant it but Mike-“ he breathed again, pausing. Everyone was looking at the two of you, your eyes wide at his hasty, guilty confessions.

“Hey, hey-“ you said, placing a hand on his shoulder “-lets uh- go somewhere else, hm?” You tried, standing from the bench. He swallowed loudly before looking around.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” he breathed. When he looked at you then, he swore there was a gleam of something in your eyes.

It was hope.

You took his warm hand and dragged him out into the hall, ignoring the mocking from where your former friends sat. Where you used to be.

Eddie stuck his tongue out devilishly as you passed them before disappearing into the silent hall with you.

“Hi,” you said then, a soft smile splaying on your lips. It made Eddie’s insides flutter, knowing you were being genuine.

“Hey,” he replied with a huff, a broad grin adorning his features now too.

“I’m sorry-“ he began again but you cut him off quickly; his dramatic cafeteria gesture was enough of an apology to you, and you couldn’t even blame him for thinking like that with you being a part of the cheer squad.

“It’s okay, Eddie. I know I don’t seem like the type, but I promise you I- I think I really like you,” you confessed nervously, eyes darting around the tile floor “and I’m not friends with those dickheads anymore. Swear.”

The bird was beating around the cage, wilder and wilder and the moth dances excitedly around the bright burning lamppost.

“So the offers still- its still on?” He asked hopefully. You couldn’t possibly resist those puppy dog eyes he flashed you, the way his hands fidgeted with the rings adorning his slender fingers.

You nodded eagerly, not daring to believe any of this was really happening. “I’m not much for dinners, though” you added. He laughed. A warm sound you could see yourself getting very used to.

“Me neither. We’ll figure something out, hm?” He asked rhetorically, head tilting to the side to peer down at your hopeful face. Your expression made the guilt from yesterday wash away from his conscience, albeit slowly. God you were gorgeous, and he had half a mind to believe he was dreaming in this moment.

“It’s a date, then.” You stated. Before he could reply, you raised to your tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently.

A furious red blush crept up on his cheek and neck, his lips parted in surprise.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s uh- it’s a date,” he smiled, flustered as he squeezed your hand.

So damn gorgeous, he thought.

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lionheartedmusings · 3 months

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bear with me bc this is gonna be a bit of a long one, but i've seen folks talking about how they're excited to get the horrors back on the qsmp and while i totally agree that i miss those blood-curdling, creepy, uncanny valley sort of scenes... i think the beauty of the overall storyline (as much as it's execution can be criticised ) is that we as the audience are seeing things in a vacuum.

the qsmp storyline is a living breathing player alongside our povs, and while we're aware of that, we're also not always engaging with it. we're getting swept up in the day-to-day of it all and getting lulled into a sense of security that ultimately makes us unable to truly comprehend the horror of the last few months until we take a step back and analyze it bit by bit.

children went missing in the night, leaving only their identifiers behind on empty beds. there were no leads. people looked and looked, and found nothing. parents were mad with concern and grief, and the all-seeing, all-powerful entity that rules their lives trapped in this hamster wheel of an island has no answers.

then, the items left behind on those beds vanish too.

then, there's mind-controlling, happiness inducing drugs being pumped into people against their will. still no news of the children. people are falling apart at the seams.

people are led to a maze where a wheel is spun and everything they have left of the children of this godforsaken island is gone. burned up. what does it mean? no one knows. they have to live on.

suddenly, a game is played. a clone of a dead child shows up, leading some of them into the same maze, forcing them to walk through a maze of doors and corridors, only to find a game of dice orchestrated by an unknown entity.

new people arrive, bearing witness to the hopeless, grim, sad reality of everyone who was already there. there's hope �� there's always hope — but my god the pain is overwhelming.

there's clues, but there's not. the government keeping them trapped here against their will still has no answers, nothing to point them in the right direction.

faceless bears go missing.

faceless bodies show up on the streets. bloodied. dead. eaten.

suddenly, there's thunder and lightning and oh! oh, their children! of course they'll get on the train, that's where the children are!

but they're hijacked. stolen. once again, their autonomy is stripped entirely as another entity with power they cannot comprehend forces them to split into factions and compete for... something. their children's lives are on the line and they maim and kill those they call family because they fear they have no choice.

everyone went through hell — purgatory was a bad title for what they went through. it was hell, with no salvation in sight.

when all is said and done, when all the murder and backstabbing is over, they see their children through glass they cannot break. one escapes because chance said so, and the rest are left behind as the ceiling collapses on them.

the world is ending and their salvation is one singular boat a thousand blocks away. lovers can't say goodbye, friends run for their lives together, a father and a son dash desperately with no hope in sight. some stay behind, through choice or chance.

the government official that has made their life hell returns the children to them, and brings some new ones. those new children get carted off to new parents without option (again) and suddenly everything's supposed to be fine! nevermind your friends are gone! nothing to see here!

behind the scenes, the all-seeing all-knowing government is breaking apart, there's something far more horrifying and twisted at play in the background... but it's nothing the islanders can help with. nothing they can do. they have to live on and pretend their golden cage is fine and dandy bc at the end of the day, it's their only option.

one-eyed creatures show up demanding something "of theirs" back and bc humanity is strong, one islander refuses to hand someone kind and innocent off to them.

it dooms them, as their humanity has every single time.

now, they're under attack and they can barely defend themselves despite months of prep and having amazing gear — again, they try their hardest but everything is stacked against them. they fight, and fight, but their children are on the line and that's their main concern.

every fight? there's bodies littering the ground and panicked screams. explosions. chainsaws revving, and worry, and it's a war ten times a week.

a child loses a life, and now it's personal, but what can they do? no one listens to them, no one has ever listened to them.

and in the middle of all of this? their family is still gone, trapped in a wasteland, or missing, or... dead.

there was no funeral for q!maxo bc there's no stopping to smell the roses on quesadilla island, not really. where's slime? where's pol? where's the people who they haven't seen yet? gone, yes, but they don't have time to stop and worry about them. they don't have time to mourn losses and grieve their dead.

luffy, who came to try and help their friends, was stolen and hurt.

those eyeball workers? they were people once, maybe good people. maybe the best people we never got to meet, but they got shifted and changed into something monstrous and out of their control.

my point being: the story that the qsmp is telling is innately horrifying. it's not just creepy — it's twisted, and tragic, and absolutely terrifying. it's about loss of agency and running on an endless hamster wheel of someone else's making, and how you just sort of... live with it after a while.

and i think that's really fucking cool, because like these characters we too get used to the tragedy of life, little by little, and forget to see the whole thing from a bird's eye view (pun intended).

#qsmp #long post #siudghiusdfg THIS IS OVER 1K WORDS SOMEONE SAVE ME

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pucksandpower · 1 year

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Charles Leclerc Masterlist

Written Fics

All Locked Up

Bet on It

Blackmail Material

Blow Out the Candles

Boop!

Borrowed Time

Brake Balance

Breaking Point

Changing Lanes

Danger Noodles

Daydream

Eurovisionaries

Fairytale

Family Feud

Fit for a Queen

Gilded Cage

Head Over Heels

Inked

Lessons in Anatomy

Live Like We Want To

Lover

Man’s World

Mesaytara

Never Have I Ever

Ours to Protect

Prove Them Wrong

Roll the Dice

Ruin You

Sink or Swim

Sleepyhead

Something Sweet

The Center Cannot Hold

Theories of Relativity

Ties That Bind

Time to Kill

Under the Influence

Use Your Words

Your Friend Steve

Social Media AUs

In My Blood (series with Senna!Reader)

architect!Reader

author!Reader

black!Reader

Brazilian!Reader

celebrity crush!Reader

CEO!Reader

college student!Reader

crazy rich!Reader

endurance driver!Reader

fashion designer!Reader

fan!Reader

Ferrari driver!Reader

Ferrari engineer!Reader

Ferrari team principal!Reader

footballer!Reader

girlfriend!Reader

Horner!Reader

Måneskin!Reader

model!Reader

nepo baby!Reader

Newey!Reader

newlywed!Reader Part I

newlywed!Reader Part II

New Year’s Edition

pop star!Reader

pop star!Reader II

Princess of Monaco!Reader

pr manager!Reader

protective!Reader

revenge era!Reader

royal!Reader

Sainz!Reader

scandalous!Reader

shameless!Reader

single mother!Reader

socialite!Reader

Vettel!Reader

widow!Reader

wife!Reader

Wolff!Reader

Wolff!Reader II

Wolff!Reader x Max Verstappen

#pucksandpower masterlist #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au

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readychilledwine · 8 months

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Broken

Rhysand x Winter Court OC

A/N- Happy day 3 of my Here's to 100 week! I wanted to give angst a try a few weeks ago, and I am kind of proud, kind of not proud of this piece. I think this is something that could become more, and I've left it open to more, but I don't really know if I want this OC to have a happy ending, or a tragic one. If I add to it, it might be a roll of the dice thing to decide.

Summary - Rhysand is finally home from the Mountain, but he's home with news that shatters Aelia, his wife's world, from under her feet.

Warnings - alludes to a panic attack kind of angsty.

Part Two Part Three

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

This wasn't a conversation Rhysand wanted to have with Aelia. "It's not your fault," she whispered softly. "It's just the hand you were dealt. I get it." She stood and began to move to walk out of the room. She needed to leave the room. Panic had set into her chest, tears were beginning to form in her eyes.

"Aelia," he strained out. "Please."

His heart was breaking as she dropped her hand from the door and looked up. He watched her hand run through her hair again. The snow blonde curls were a mess from her hands constantly running through it and pulling at it. He wanted nothing more than to brush it, to bring her to his bed, and to play with it. "Rhys, I need time. You need time."

"You're my wife. The mother of my child." His voice held a tone of desperation.

"And she's your mate? I can't win here Rhys." Rhysand stood. Caging her body between him and the doorway. His head rested on her shoulder. "I need to go, Rhys. I can't watch this."

"Please don't leave me." Her eyes squeezed shut as tears began to openly fall. He was breaking behind her, and she was shattering before him. Hundreds of years of love, of laughter, of joy. Hundreds of years, just gone.

"What am I supposed to do, Rhysand? Sit here and warm your bed until she realizes Tamlin isn't the one? I need to start looking for somewhere for Nyx and I to go."

"Your place is here. Our son's place is here. I don't want her, Aelia." His voice cracked as he began to sob. "I've only ever wanted you. I love you. I'm in love with you."

Aelia wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe none of this mattered. That the female he was bound to didn't matter. She knew it did, though. She knew this changes everything between them. "You found your mate, Rhys. That's going to change."

His eyes were squeezed shut as he forced her into his chest. "No, it won't. I'll reject the bond." She shook her head softly. Azriel would murder her if she asked this of Rhysand. Azriel had dreamed of finding his mate. He had begged them to think getting married through, but they impulsively had. And Rhys had sworn her in as High Lady. And now they had a son together. A son who was 60 and would understand exactly what all of this meant.

"I can't ask you to do that, Rhysand."

"You aren't asking me to. I am telling you I'm going to." He forced her to turn in his arms, pulling her tight to his chest and holding her. "Just give me time, snowflake, please." She nodded. The smallest smile broke onto Rhysand's face, not reaching his eyes, as he kissed her roughly.

(1 Month later)

Cassian watched in silence as Nyx packed his things. His high lady was not dumb, but the choice she was making was stupid. And her son was blindly following right behind her. "This isn't necessary," Azriel said softly to their nephew. "Talk to him first."

"What is there to talk about," Nyx turned to Azriel. "How about the fact that he fucked someone besides mom for past 50 years. Or the fact that the first thing he says to mom isn't something caring or loving. It's "I found my mate." Azriel and Cassian shared a look as Nyx threw a few weapons into his bag.

"We've given him a month and now he's in Spring. With his mate. Instead of here with mom and me. Do you know how much I've actually seen my so-called father since he came home?" Nyx looked at Azriel, a raven brow raised. They all knew the answer to that question.

Rhys had not made time for his son, nor his wife. When his own dreams weren't turning every waking moment of his reality into a nightmare, Feyre's were destroying him slowly from the inside. The moments Rhys spent with Aelia were spent loudly arguing. They were spent with the couple in tears as their relationship finally had to face 50 years of strain and hardship.

Nyx threw the shirt he was holding into his suitcase. His anger and sadness were radiating from him. "We're leaving. It's what's best for mom, for me, and probably for Rhysand." They knew better than to argue with the young male. The love Nyx had for his mother had always, and would always trump everything. Including his loyalty to his court, to the warbands, to his uncles.

"You are the heir to the Night Court," Azriel said slowly. "He isn't going to let either of you go without a fight."

Nyx shook his head. "I don't give a fuck what I am to him. Carthanian, heir, illyrian soldier. I am my mother's son first." Aelia came back down the stairs with the bag she had been packing. She had been crying, but she forced a smile for her son. She had been forcing a strong outward appearance for the court and Inner Circle for the past month. She held her hand out to Nyx as he picked up his bag.

"Are you sure, Nyxie?" They knew she gave him the choice. She had told Nyx he was welcome to stay. That she wouldn't hold it against him, but her son had picked her. He nodded to her, grabbing her hand in his and walking with her. Azriel knew where they were going, and Aelia knew her brother in law would know. She also knew he would not tell Rhysand until he knew if her heart was safe in his hands again.

Azriel followed them to the door, his hand on her back as he whispered softly in her ear that he would be trailing them until he knew they were safe, that he would be checking in, that he loves them. Azriel watched as they winnowed with one last look shared between him and Aelia.

"He's going to lose his fucking mind," Cassian whispered. Azriel nodded to him slowly. "Does she know he's in Spring rejecting the bond right now?"

"No. All Mor told her is that he went to Spring."

Rhysand came home, hours later, to an empty house. The faelights were dim and the scent of his wife and son was fading as if they had not been here recently.

"Aelia! Nyx!" He walked around the Riverhouse. Checking every room for them. Each door opened felt like a nail pounding into a coffin as he found empty room after empty room. He stopped as soon as he hit his wife's office. Hands shaking and silently praying to anyone who'd listen she would be inside. He opened the door and felt hope leave him.

An envelope with his name sat neatly on her desk, and Azriel and Cassian were in the room. The two refused to look at him as Azriel handed Rhysand the letter.

Rhysand,

By time you're reading this, Nyx and I will have left. Mor let me know that you were going to Spring. That you were planning to see your mate. I do not want to stand in the way of your happiness.

I know we always promised each other joy and peace. We just had hoped it would never come to us not being the source of those things for each other. You have brought me more joy and happiness in the past 300 years than I deserved to know, Rhysand. It is only fair I give you the same chance to find that.

Please know I gave Nyx the choice to stay. I let him know I love him either way, that you love him either way. Ultimately, we would both want him to be where he felt happiest. He made the choice to come with me. He said he may come back at some point, but his anger at this situation is… strong at the moment. I'll continue to try to talk to him and try to get him to come at least to the Moonstone Palace once a week to meet with you. Please try to understand things from his side. He's young. He's impulsive. He's hurting. This isn't what he had in mind, nor what he ever pictured, all those years he'd dream and talk about "when daddy came home." He loves you, Rhys. He's just lost right now. We all are.

I love you, Rhysand. I hope you find the bliss you need and deserve.

Forever yours,

Aelia

Rhysand read the note over and over. "Where did she go," he growled. "Why did Mor not tell her why I was in Spring."

"We don't know," Cassian said. "We haven't seen Mor since she told Aelia."

"Where is she, Azriel?" The shadowsinger looked at his brother, taking a sip of the whiskey he had poured himself. "Az, where are my wife and son?"

Azriel shook his head. "They need time, Rhys. You also need time. You need to heal. To regain a grip on yourself and your surroundings. You rejected your mate, Rhys. For her and Nyx's safety, I need to keep you away from her."

Rhys felt his hands shaking, tears beginning to fall. He felt his world crashing down around him. "I didn't even have to reject the bond. I spoke with Feyre about it and she did it. She flat out asked me why I'd be dumb enough to believe she'd leave the male she gave her life for just because of the Cauldron." Rhys chuckled bitterly. "And now my wife and son are gone." They watched as Rhysand sat down in a chair, staring out the window.

Azriel knew this was a guilt trip. He nodded, playing with Aelia's favorite pen. "I will not tell you where they are. You will not guilt me into it, and if you command me to, Rhysand, I will never forgive you." Azriel stood and walked to the window. "I promise you she is safe. I have a shadow trailing both of them."

Rhysand scoffed lightly, refusing to look his way. "It is good to know where your loyalty truly lies, Azriel. Get out, both of you. I want to be alone."

Cassian looked at Az, then Rhys. Azriel was taking the insult. He did not argue. He did not bite back. He was refusing to give Rhysand the fight the male clearly thought he needed. "Rhys, she-"

"Get. Out." The faelights flickered with Rhysand's anger, tendrils of darkness and mist flaring around him. "I'll find her myself. Since my spymaster is incapable of giving me the High Lady's location." Another insult Rhysand knew deep down his brother did not deserve.

He waited until the door shut, until two sets of footsteps and muffled voices faded. Once Rhys knew he was truly alone, he felt the first broken sob fully tear through his throat. He allowed himself this moment to fall apart, to break into one thousand tiny pieces as his heart fell from his chest. He allowed his breathing to become uneven, rushed. He allowed that feeling of nothing, yet everything all at once to hit him. That feeling of never being enough, of being too much.

Cassian found him the next morning asleep on the floor to Aelia's office. "Rhys," he gently touched his shoulder. "Rhys, I have a letter from Nyx. It's for you. I need you to get up." Cassian needed to know the contents of the letter as much as Rhysand would. He shook his brother again, slightly smiling as he stirred.

"Go away, Cassian." Rhysand's voice was like gravel, his eyes still slightly red and swollen. "Why the fuck are you here?"

Cassian held the letter up. "I need you to open this so we both maybe get answers. He won't tell me anything either, Rhys. He says once he knows she's safe from your emotional spiral, he will go get them. So, get yourself up and get your shit together."

Rhysand stared at the letter. At the gently practiced scroll of his son's handwriting. He took the envelope immediately, standing to walk to Aelia's desk, and taking out her letter opener. He read the letter once, then a second time to be sure, and third just in case before handing it to Cassian.

The general read it slowly, processing each delicate curve of his nephew's lettering. "So, they're in Winter?" Rhysand nodded, his jaw tight. "Doesn't Kal believe you-"

"Yes." Cassian paused, knowing why she would have picked there, and knowing Aelia had longed to go home for a while now. "I'm banned from his court as of yesterday morning."

Cassian whispered softly in response. "Nyx is asking you not to come anyways, Rhys. He's asking you to give him and Lia space and time."

Rhysand nodded. "I can read, Cassian. Thank you."

"Then let her go." The high lord shot him a look of shock. Of betrayal. "Let her go and let her come back on her own terms, Rhys. Show her you love her by respecting her wishes. We both know she is going to come back. Remind me of how deeply she told you she loved you?"

"Deeper than the ocean of Summer, stronger than the vines of Spring, with more passion than an Autumn fire."

"And with the purity of a fresh Winter snow." Cassian finished softly. "She'll come home, Rhys."

Rhysand broke down again, and Cassian rushed to him, pulling his brother into a tight hug. "That's so much easier said than done."

"I know."

"I love her." Rhysand sobbed heavily. "Cassian, I love her. I never once thought about leaving her when the bond snapped. She carried my son. She risked her life to give me a baby. She risked her life so I could live my dream of being a father and now its all falling to shit, Cassian."

"I know."

Rhysand openly cried now. Hand forming fists in the back of Cassian's shirt. "I just want them. I love him. I love her." He repeated again.

"I know, Rhys. I know."

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #rhys fic #readychilledwine's heresto100 celebration

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karagatan02 · 13 days

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જ⁀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

synopsis: you are a travelling artist, transversing the galaxy. Thus, on your curt trip to penacony, you see a man and paint him.

including: aventurine

side comments: my rawest writing piece yet. the piece is meant to be up for interpretation and i wanted to take a more vague standpoint. this is not necessarily an x reader fic, please keep that in mind. thank you @/stellaronhvnters members for giving me tips. sending you all lots of love!

extra: angst, gn reader, boothill makes a short appearance, subtle 2.1 spoilers words count: roughly 963

You saw him on three occasions.

The first was under the incessant flash of Penacony's lights, the ubiquitous glint of inordinate advertisements trailed behind you like children. He stood amongst the dreamers with fashion and flare: the subtle sway of his right earing was charmed you. While his shoes reflected opulence and splendour. The number pressed onto his neck- similarly pressed against the folds of your mind: the place in which the eyes stare onto the shore and cast spells of what if’s.

Yet, despite the nature of his novelties and the soulful satire of his smile, you paused- traffic and light bending into sound.

What was he? You pondered. Perhaps he is perched in towers and rolls dice like candy; pecking it afterwards. Perhaps he sharpens his shoes as he does with his eyes. Perhaps he stands still in showers of salty rain, drying his cheeks with the rim of his velvet hat.

Was he a dreamer too? You would of blinked in affirmation, griped your breath a touch tighter and trace his footsteps. Lifting it on to the palm of your hand, tucked it into the haven of your pocket, cradling it like an infant, raising it like a lush fern. A portable paradise euphonious and maternal.

From there you shifted your weight onto your good side and tapped your feet to the beat of your heart, matching it to the song of his hushed ingenious breath.

He was here before, you noted. Clearly, not for leisure nor for pleasure. His strides were candid, curt, and clever. Yet, from afar, it was as if the tip of his shoes was his only connection between ground and sky. His steps bounced, rebounding off by sheer force alone; leaping mid-air, leaping with vigour and intention, leaping over wide yawning chasms.

He was galloping towards, not bothering to gaze back. His image blended into one of a horse standing amidst fields teeming with immeasurable and verdant grassland. The horse and their lush nature, a loneliness that can't be contended with as they lowered their gaze like swans. Their mane brushed against skin; preparing to consume the earth generously all on their own- unaccompanied by instruction, coddling or order.

You pause and step back from the slender and poised length of his legs, from the cage of his chest in which gold is born and coiled, from the rings of his eyes that pirouette and roulette. Hence, pondering curiously what kind of bone does not break despite its beatings.

The second time you saw him was when the sharp pungency of grapefruit- twirled with the salt which lined the rim of your glass- produced a sweet taste on the stage of your tongue. At the time the drink was fresh, garnished and plainly odd considering the dim, velvet aura which vibrated through the bar. The taste lingered in your mouth: reminiscent of a sultry summer afternoon.

His hair, you then realized, was scintillating in the gleam of bottles and booze. You wavered a bit, eyes blurry, hot and wet like the sea. He twirled and tuned with the light, the brand of his watch blurring with another sip of rum.

You don't recall any music, however, in that liminal moment between one song and the next, between one sip and a single swallow, your mouth split open in a wide glowing grin.

One foot over the other- glass in hand- serenading in dim light, crash after crash, bass strung with tangible words- it echoed deep and slow.

From there he stares forward, kissing the rim of his glass, dissipating with light as he seems to do. For a split second, he is vulnerable in the state of lassitude.

However, not before unfurling, smiling then melting. He was flying close to the sun; grazing his hands over its rims. Bright young man, you noted.

You pause and step back from his supple lips- insoluble when met with torrents, solid when left to eternity, liquid when set alive, gone when used up.

The third and final time was when his back faced you: his body resting, arms sprawled out in surrender, a single finger twitching. The memory is slipping. Like grains of sand trailing down your hand, like silk that won't hold a knot, like how rest is destined for those who truly slumber. Everecent in nature and poise. There, you wonder soundly, what stars have been bruised onto his back, and if you'd be able to draw them together- into one grand constellation that spans from one end of the world into another infinite void of true rapture.

"What a painting- or pain really."

"For someone who can't physically feel pain, your remark is rather funny," you quip back smoothly, your gaze still set towards the man's slackened joints and inner tenderness.

"You've been sitin' here for hours," bantered Boothill, "Four months really... since we left Penacony!"

You gingerly place the paintbrush down, pausing as you gradually step back from the lifesize portrait. A streak of yellow and purple paint stains your right cheek. "Today I am done."

Boothill raises an eyebrow as he watches you lift the painting onto a mantel: unhurried as a tree. Boothill watched you, morph the image of a stranger into blinding brilliance with each fastidious detail. How your subject- him- echoed volumes, his back against the world, facing tomorrow, embracing the amorous fold of limelight before departing, walking away into nothing with a princely smile and a single wave of his hand.

"Why do you paint him?" Boothill questions, his voice oddly dim and mellow, "You know nothin' about him."

Repose is found on your face as to your reply.

Boothill emits a frustrated sigh and reaches into his pockets; retrieving a lighter, you promptly flick it alive. The flame staring at you; wavering and swaying left then right. Your eyes are subtly idyllic and lulled as if drifting soundly in prayer; relishing the final wave of maudlin and soothing nuance.

"That's why I like him."

You set the portrait aflame.

"Because I know nothing about him."

masterlist.

interact with a comment! don’t be a silent reader 🤍

#writing ᝰ.ᐟ #—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader angst #aventurine x you #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst #hsr boothill #boothill honkai star rail #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine hsr

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biteofcherry · 9 months

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I see you're being a menace Navy! And at the very start of the week 😜 Then I shall fight your attack @navybrat817 with a beast of my own! 😏 Who's not scared of the big bad wolf?

Bad Moon Rising

alpha!Ari Levinson x omega female reader

warnings: none; a bit of dirty talk; brief mention of chase kink; shifter!Ari; wolf!Ari; alpha!Ari;

You chop the ingredients with viciousness, pouring into it your need to stab a certain someone and cut off the invisible ties which bound your future.

Yet you keep it diced nicely, instead of turning everything into a mush.

Partly because you aren't that childish to act out, but also because your mother ingrained enough of proper hospitality behavior that you couldn't simply shake it off to spite a bloody Alpha.

Especially not when he was invited to your family home, by your parents, for a Sunday dinner.

So they could meet their future son-in-law officially; as if Ari didn't drag you back marked with his cum, after chasing you through the woods a week ago.

You were annoyed that everyone seemed to forget about that part, but you were also glad they never pointed out how you clung to his side despite glaring murderous intent at him.

Was it the vulnerability that you tried to shield yourself behind the big Alpha, or did that instinctive chase and victorious marking successfully lured your wolf side to accept Ari as your mate?

You're not sure.

You scrubbed your body clean of his cum, yet it still feels like his smell lingers on you. Your tongue tingles and mouth fills with saliva whenever you think of the salty taste of him.

With an angry grunt, you chop a cucumber in half. Then dice it with precise, quick moves.

Pity you didn't have the knife with you when you opened the door earlier. You could've stabbed Ari in the thigh when he greeted you with a grin and a comment that he's surprised to see you waiting in place, since he half expected to have to chase after you again.

He brought gifts, because apparently he was raised well, even though you thought him to be the most primitive beast.

A bouquet of flowers for your mother, a bottle of top shelf bourbon to share with your father, and a blackberry tart for dessert (which was one of your favorites and you found yourself annoyed that he chose so well).

Cursing under your breath, you stand up on your tiptoes to reach the black glass bowl on the highest shelf. Your fingertips barely reach it.

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your middle. Solid, hot body presses against your back.

You're startled, but the familiar now scent of pine and moss wraps around you, caressing your animal side like the gentlest pet.

You gulp, watching muscles flex beneath the bronzed skin on Ari's forearm as he easily reaches the bowl and takes it down for you.

"You're trembling," Ari notices, keeping you caged between his massive body and the counter.

He splays his fingers over your belly, the other hand tracing along the goosebumps on your arm. You feel the coarse denim of his jeans against the back of your thighs; your sundress too thin to block the warmth of him from seeping in.

"A mountain of a man, who could easily break my neck with one hand, sneaked up on me. Of course I'm trembling."

You don't believe your own lie, either. The cool indifference you hoped to carry your voice sounded too husky.

Ari's lips graze the shell of your ear. Puff of his breath seems to disperse through your whole body, like an echo calling out to your nature.

"We both know the only parts I'm going to break are your holes, little Omega," his voice is deceptively soft; more of a promise than a threat and your body ignites at the prospect.

You hope the smell of baked potatoes and roast resting out of the oven is enough to mask the splash of your arousal, but with the Alpha's sharpened senses you're not sure it helps cover your reaction.

So you lightly jab an elbow into his stomach to push him away (before he makes a mess out of you, or before your parents find you in a compromising position).

"Don't be crude," you huff, filling your hands with chopped veggies and tossing them into the bowl.

Ari chuckles, but steps aside. Not far enough for your liking, only a few inches as he leans his hip against the counter and studies your profile.

His head slightly tilted, Ari licks his lips, dragging his teeth over the bottom lip as he watches you dip a finger into the jar with dressing and bring it up to your lips to taste the seasoning.

"I'm not made to be waxing poetics," he admits with a shrug. "But I also don't think they'd work on you."

"You don't know that. You don't know anything about me." You tilt your chin up, pouring the dressing over the salad.

"I know you're determined. Smart. And strong willed." Ari sounds as impressed and fascinated as he did that first night you met him. "I also know you're closer to the wild, animal side than you let on."

He traces a finger along your shoulder, flicking the strap of your dress aside.

"I know you've got as much of thrill from the chase as I did," Ari's finger draws lower, across the swell of your breast.

"I know your wolf accepts me. And that you're primed to take me even now..."

His finger presses against your stiffened nipple and your knees threaten to give out.

It's the truth that scares you the most. You're a shifter - part human and part wolf. And that night when Ari hunted you down, your wolf submitted.

The bitch fucking yielded in delight for the big bad Alpha.

"Stop it!" You slap Ari's hand away and adjust the strap back into place.

"Take this out to the backyard," you place the bowl in his hands. "You were supposed to be there, anyway. You're a guest, act like one."

Ari's fingertips brush yours as he takes the bowl from you, the contact, though minimal, makes your heart jump.

"Only three weeks, little Omega," he says, holding your gaze. "Three weeks until the ceremony. Then I'll have all of you."

You can't be thinking about that; about the details of the ceremony and the bond that will tie you to Ari forever. Every time your thoughts briefly turn in that direction, your wolf perks up in some wild need and you end up drenched and restless.

"Well," you lick your lips, yanking your hands away from Ari's touch, "maybe I'll run away."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Ari grins, so fucking cocky.

He winks at you, then leaves the kitchen. For a short moment you consider if you'd menage to run away this very moment.

#navybrat817 #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #alpha!ari levinson #alpha!ari levinson x omega reader #ari levinson x female reader #alpha ari levinson x omega female reader #ari levinson imagine #bad moon rising

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