#i drew this like three months ago and just never felt like posting it. but here it is i guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

life-love-musicaltheatre · 1 year

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This started more as a self indulgent joke I made in the tags of @unclewaynemunson’s post that I ended up running away with.

I just really like baseball and I think Eddie would agree with me that Steve with a nail bat could convince me to do anything.

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If you were to tell Eddie Munson that within 3 months he would watch a girl die, become wanted for murder of said sweet sweet girl, steal an RV, almost die himself in a hell dimension, get carried out of said hell dimension by his high school crush, and then have his name mysteriously cleared of all charges and /those/ events led to him playing a sport for the first time in his life, he would ask who sold you the drugs you were on because it definitely wasn’t him. But somehow, there he was, in the middle of a small clearing with Steve Harrington’s chest pressing gently against his back, hands over his own while they swung a bat through the air. Eddie and Steve were both sweaty and the repetition of the motion was actually nice. Eddie felt Steve slip from behind him and he caught himself from sighing at the loss of contact.

“Alright, think you’re ready to take a swing at a moving target?”

Eddie eased into the stance they’d been practicing and closed his eyes while he drew a steadying breath.

“Throw it.”

In truth this chapter of Eddie’s life had started a week ago when Steve asked him to grab Dustin’s backpack from his trunk.

“What the fuck, Harrington!”

Steve jogged over as Eddie gestured to the contents of his car. “Oh! Yeah, that’s my bat.”

Steve said it like it was the most casual thing in the world to own a baseball bat with FUCKING NAILS sticking out of it! Eddie blinked and gestured again, more forcefully since it seemed to him Steve missed the whole point of What The Fuck Harrington-ing him. Steve rolled his eyes and chuckled as if Eddie was putting on just for Steve’s amusement. (Which to be honest, he was, but only a little bit.)

“It’s /the/ bat, Munson. Y’know, the one I took on those dog things with.” He said it with an almost shy smile like he was embarrassed to be bragging about himself.

Eddie blinked at him. Yeah, that was something Dustin had filled him in on, but he’s only heard it in snippets till then, and at no point did anyone mention the nails.

“You still drag that around in your car?” Dustin added as he grabbed his backpack from Eddie’s loosening grip.He’d thought it before, but it never ceased to absolutely floor Eddie how casually his new friends talked about near apocalyptic experiences. He shook himself a little as a hard reset before taking a deep breath and reminding himself he did in fact care about these weirdos, who were now bickering over the merits of being able to swing a bat.

“I taught Nancy how to swing it, and then I kicked that demogorgon’s ass at the Byers’! You cannot disparage the bat Henderson.”

“Oh you taught Nancy? That explains why she’s crap with melee weapons and sticks to her guns. Literally! She could blow your bat out of the water with her aim!”

Steve put his hands on his hips and leveled Dustin with a glare. “S’not my fault she found something she was better at. Plus, I bet I could teach any one of you how to swing. I was in charge of batting practice Sophomore and Junior year.”

“Then teach me.”

Both boys turned and looked at Eddie like they just remembered he was there. Eddie was even a little surprised he’d spoken up, but he was never one to back down from a challenge and with a chance to be close to Steve on the line there was no limit to the type of fool he’d make of himself.

“You sure about that?” Steve asked cautiously.

Eddie shrugged. “If it gets you two to stop giving me a headache then I’ll even let you teach me what order to run the little baggies in, Steve-o.”

Steve looked at him hard for a beat before breaking out into a huge grin. “Alright. You asked for it man.”

With that Steve slammed the trunk and the three of them went inside. Eddie should have felt nervous, but with the way Steve’s face lit up he was honestly just trying not to swoon. He looked so excited and Eddie would do anything to see Steve’s face light up like that again. So they made plans, next afternoon Steve had off work he was going to teach Eddie how to swing his nail bat.

—

The day came fast and Steve had given him specific instructions to wear pants and shoes he could run in. They met at Steve’s house and walked out into the woods; Steve carrying a navy blue bag that Eddie was sure was hiding the nail bat from prying eyes. There was a giddiness in the air between the boys as they made their way to a small clearing deep in the trees.

“Alright,” Steve clapped his hands together as he rounded on Eddie, “time for batting practice, Munson.”

He unzipped the bag and dropped it before pulling out two normal bats and a baseball.

For a split second Eddie was confused at the lack of nails and a grin on Steve’s face that could only be described as shit eating. It took him a half second longer to realize he’d been tricked by Steve Harrington into playing real, actual baseball for an entire afternoon.

Eddie’s silence stretched on a beat more and Steve’s smile faltered.

“I was-“

“Let’s hit balls.”

Steve’s worried look morphed into a smile as he hid a snort behind his hand. “I think you’re looking for ‘Let’s play ball.’”

Eddie rolled his eyes and huffed, “Whatever you say, oh Royal Knight of the field,” bowing low before taking the bat Steve was holding out to him.

“Ok, I know you’re just trying to make fun of me, but actually the Kansas City Royals won the World Series last year so that’s actually a compliment.”It was Eddie’s turn to hide a laugh as Steve idly twirled his bat in his hands—a move Eddie was sure if he tried to replicate would end up with him smacking himself in the head—as he looked Eddie up and down.

“Alright now, I want to see what we’re working with.” Eddie started feeling fidgety under Steve’s gaze. “Give me a swing.”

“Ok man, you asked for it.”

Eddie planted his feet wide and leaned over at the hips before swinging fast, almost losing his grip on the back swing. He looked up (when had he started looking down?) at Steve to see him with his brow furrowed, biting his bottom lip. Eddie winced and shrugged. “Like I said...”

“No. I mean it’s not great, by any means, but,” Steve’s brow softened, “it’s not the worst I’ve seen. And you didn’t almost hit me so you’ve got that over Nance.”

Eddie felt something in his chest brighten involuntarily. He smirked at Steve, “So you’re saying I have a shot at making the team, Harrington?”

Steve laughed and Eddie felt like his chest was visibly glowing. “You already made the cut, Eds. We just gotta whip you into playing shape now.”

And as light as Eddie felt, making Steve smile and sharing something he obviously loved so much, so began one of the sweatiest afternoons of Eddie’s life.

They started with his grip, which according to Steve wasn’t too horrible actually, but needed to be more relaxed so it didn’t affect his overall swing. Steve used his own bat to tap at Eddie, moving his feet closer together so they were shoulder width apart, raising his hands up higher and lengthening out his neck so he was actually looking up and not at his feet. All the while he gave instructions about how Eddie should position his weight over his back foot and step into the swing, lead with his hips, and don’t try to end the swing till he finishes following the movement all the way through.

Steve made him do a few more, even doing a few swings of his own so Eddie could see what he meant, but it seemed like both of them were just becoming more frustrated, till Steve ran a hand through his hair and groaned.

“Fuck it.”

Steve dropped his bat and moved behind Eddie, dropping his hands firmly to his hips and pulling them back. Eddie let his bat fall slack, stuck between telling Steve off for not warning him first and melting into his grip.

“You’re rotating too fast. You’re throwing your hips too much and you’ll get hit by the ball if you’re not careful.”

Eddie could feel Steve’s words like a cooling breeze on the back of his neck. He nodded, not trusting his voice with Steve pressed this close, right behind him.

“You have to let every part of your body flow through the swing.” Steve was pulling his hips, “Bat up Munson,” and Eddie let himself be dragged through the motion.

Back, step forward, pull through. Again. Back, step forward, pull through. All the while Steve was guiding his body through the motion, it felt hypnotic and fluid. Much better than how Eddie had been doing it before.

“Good.” Steve moved his arms up and wrapped his hands over Eddie’s. “Keep the bat up higher. You want to let it fall back a little when you wind up.”

They moved through the swing together some more—back, step forward, pull through—and Eddie felt himself sink into the motion fully for the first time that day. It’d only been a couple hours they’d been practicing but his swings were getting surer. The bat was loose in his grip but he didn’t feel like it was going to go sailing into the trees like it almost had earlier. Eddie felt a tingle of something start to well up and spread through his limbs with every swing. Steve’s body was warm behind his. He was just starting to relax into the strong arms around him when Eddie felt Steve slip from behind him and he caught himself from sighing at the loss of contact.

“Alright, think you’re ready to take a swing at a moving target?”

Steve had gone to stand in front of him, pulling the baseball out from his pocket. Eddie squared up. Weight over his back foot, knees and feet shoulder width apart, knuckles lined up and fingers loose around the bat handle. He closed his eyes, took a final breath to steady himself before looking up at Steve with a sure smile.

“Throw it.”

Steve matched his smile before jogging back a few paces and taking a stance of his own. He tossed the ball underhanded towards Eddie and he wound up, stepping forward, and swinging sure through the pitch. He only caught the edge of the ball and it soared straight up into the air before coming back down and landing a foot behind where Eddie was standing. Steve’s laugh was bright as it cut through their clearing.

“Nice! You tipped it!” Eddie was scowling at the ball but looked up as Steve continued. “Toss it back and I’ll throw you another one.”

Eddie wanted to stay pissy but it was hard when Steve was obviously having so much fun. He threw it back the same way Steve had tossed it to him and it rolled the last few feet to where he was standing. He laughed again.

“Maybe next time I’ll teach you how to throw.”

Eddie laughed back, “How about we master one feat of athleticism at a time?”

They were smiling at each other as they reset their positions. Steve nodded at Eddie before tossing the ball, only for him to tip it again, this time landing in front of him. Eddie tossed it back quickly before squaring up again.

“Come on Steve! Give me a good throw!” He called out. He was long past denying that he was enjoying himself too.

Steve threw his head back, his mirth was palpable and it made Eddie’s face flush. “All right, you asked for it.”

Steve’s stance changed. It felt more serious, standing profiled as he hiked his leg up and let a real pitch go.

Eddie still swung at it. Of course he swung at it. He felt his hips pull forward and lead his shoulders and hands through his swing, eyes wide as he saw the bat make full contact with the ball and send it flying over Steve’s head and out into the trees beyond. There was a millisecond where the world was quiet before they could faintly hear the ball hit the first few leaves as it went through the canopy and suddenly Eddie felt pride explode in his chest. Steve began cheering as Eddie took off, running where he imagined the bases to be, egged on by Steve’s laughter.

“Eddie, dude! You’re running the wrong direction!” He doubled over as Eddie made a show of going around base numbers one and two. “Fuck it! Run home, Eddie! Run home!”

Eddie rounded close enough to base three before turning and sprinting directly at Steve. He jumped at him the last few paces crashing into him with a giant hug, sending them down to the forest floor. Both of them were too happy to care, they continued holding on to each other as they celebrated.

“Safe! Touchdown, Kansas City!” Eddie crowed from half on top of Steve.

“I know, you know that’s not right.” Steve said as their laughing died down. Eddie looked down at Steve below him and felt a pull in his gut. Sweaty and still so beautiful, he let his eyes flicker down to Steve’s lips.

“Is this part of the game too?” He asked quietly.

“Nah,” Steve’s smile practically sparkled up at him, “but I can still probably show you a thing or two.”

“You’re on.” Eddie grinned as he closed the gap between them and gave Steve a soft kiss.

He felt Steve’s hands come up and gently thread through his hair, not to deepen but to hold. They lazily let their lips slide over each other’s, Eddie more than happy to stay in their little clearing for the rest of the day, till Steve broke the kiss with a giggle.

“Y’know, again, I know you were joking but Kansas City’s also got a football team and-“

“You know what Steve? Let’s just stick with baseball for now.”

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Please let me know what you think. I personally think there needs to be more fics about Eddie getting into Steve’s hobbies too. I love the ones where Steve learns he’s amazing at DnD but please, we also need the reverse because there’s really something so homoerotic about the rituals we have for men to touch other men. 😂

I’ll probably refine this a little more and throw it up on my Ao3 in the morning, if you wanna read it there. In the mean time thank you so much for reading. Ok I love you buh-bye. 💕

*edit: since I finished this at like 3 am I didn’t really give it a thorough read through for spelling and grammar errors. Little bits have been edited. Hope this makes it read a little better!

#Steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #fic #my fic #my words #stranger things fic #baseball #Kansas City Royals mention #I just really like baseball you guys #and also I selfishly want Steve to be a Royals fan #honestly he should be a chief’s fan too #he’d love Patrick Mahomes

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katsu28 · 1 year

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even after all these years

pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

summary: based on the prompt “i take my little sibling to their school’s halloween carnival and you’re one of the volunteers/workers there and you’re super cute” but slightly different

warnings: light swearing, bats

a/n: is it even legal to finally be posting a halloween fic in december? let’s pretend it is and i’m not criminally late with it! but in my defense, i started writing this before halloween and then just never finished it </3

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Eddie didn’t want to be here. Now don’t get him wrong, he liked Halloween just as much as the next person, but being around all these people that were ready to hunt him down and burn him at the stake just months ago, who were now pretending like it never happened, just didn’t tickle his fancy.

But Dustin and Steve were very adamant on him coming with them, and as much as he wanted to decline, he couldn’t.

So now here he was, shuffling behind his friends as they wandered around the Hawkins High parking lot that had been converted into a makeshift Halloween carnival, trying his best to ignore the stares and whispers aimed his way.

Eddie was no stranger to them, but these were different. He wasn’t just a freak, he was a so called “murderer”. Even though his name had been cleared a long time ago.

“Dude, you look like you’re about to piss yourself. Relax.” Steve’s voice drew him out of his thoughts, his eyes flicking to the brown haired boy currently raising a brow at him. “You’re fine, Munson.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Whatever.” Eddie muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket sulkily.

Dustin cast a glance back at him, frowning when he saw the older boy kicking a rock down the gravel path, much more interested in the toes of his dirty sneakers than anything else around him. He felt bad for dragging Eddie here when he obviously wasn’t having any fun, but it was good for him to get out more. He’d barely left Steve’s house at all the past seven months, only managing to drag himself to Hellfire meetings and to give Dustin an occasional ride home from school.

“Hey, you wanna come with me to get my face painted?” Dustin asked excitedly, making his way back to tug on Eddie’s sleeve with a grin. “I was thinking like a huge spiderweb, straight across my cheek. Pretty badass, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” Eddie shrugged, instantly feeling guilt pool in his stomach when he saw Dustin’s shoulders slump. So he tried his best to remedy it by plastering a smile on his face, clapping him on the back and pulling him closer by the collar of his jacket. “That does sound real badass, Henderson. Lead the way.”

Dustin perked right back up, launching into a mindless ramble about some species of spider that Eddie wasn’t paying attention to all that much as they made their way through the crowds of kids and parents to the face painting table. Immediately plunking into a free chair across from one of the Hawkins High science teachers, Dustin started talking again, probably forgetting that Eddie had come with him.

Eddie, on the other hand, was about ready to ditch him, since he was getting a few weird looks as he just stood in the middle of the array of tables awkwardly.

“Hey, I know you. You’re—”

“Yeah, yeah, Eddie the freak, satanic worshipper, murderer, yada, yada,” He grumbled, deciding to slouch over into another flimsy plastic chair with his arms crossed over his chest to get out of people’s way, barely hastening you a glance before focusing his scowl on the worn out knees of his jeans.

“Uh…okay. That’s not what I was thinking of though.” You frowned. “Hawkins middle school debate team, sixth grade.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up, widening in horror at the sight of you. You, out of all the people he could’ve snapped at.

He remembered you, and he definitely remembered that year. The year he went to live with his uncle, which then turned into two, then three, then the rest of his life.

He’d been having trouble adjusting to being moved around so much, so he’d started acting out. Arguing with teachers, interrupting class randomly, cutting school, the whole nine yards. Apparently, he was so good at arguing with authority figures, they decided to stick him on the debate team as punishment. But honestly, it wasn’t so much of a punishment when he realized that you were also on the debate team.

Bright eyed and bushy tailed with the brightest of smiles, you were Eddie’s first crush. You were one of the only people who didn’t treat him like a total freak, sitting with him during debate practices and talking to him when no one else would, even going so far as to share your snacks with him. You never brushed him off or called him a weirdo, and you’d even kicked Tommy H in the nuts one time when he made a dig at Eddie’s clothes.

So when you moved out of Hawkins, he was pretty bummed. But now you were back, and he still felt the same butterflies in his stomach right now that he did back when he was twelve.

“What was that about being a murderer?” You tilted your head at him in confusion, to which he shook his head quickly.

“Nothing! I’m not—my name was cleared, I didn’t, uh, I didn’t murder anyone!” He tugged at the collar of his jacket awkwardly, half expecting you to shoot him a weird look.

But you just smiled, laughing a little bit. “That’s always good. Hi, Eddie.”

“Hi,” Eddie said sheepishly, holding up a ringed hand in greeting. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Yeah, I’ve only been here for a couple weeks…” You trailed off, fiddling with your paintbrush. Hoping I’d magically run into you somehow, you wanted to add. But you didn’t. “I like your hair. Much better than the buzzcut.”

Eddie’s hand flew to his unruly curls, trying his best to smooth them down even the tiniest bit. You remembered what his hair looked like? More importantly, you remembered him?

“Oh, uh, thanks. I like your hair too.” His words came out in an awkward jumble that you just beamed even brighter at, eyes crinkling at the corners. I like your hair too? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You didn’t seem to think it was stupid. “You’re sweet. How’ve you been? What’ve you been up to?”

Eddie shifted in his seat uncomfortably. What had he accomplished since the last time he saw you?

He’d become a drug dealer, started a club that everyone thought promoted Satanic worship, been accused for multiple gruesome murders, almost died in Hawkins the horror dimension, came back, and was now even more of a loser freak than he’d already been.

“Uh, not much. Nothing too interesting.” He mumbled. “So…what, uh, what brings you back here?”

“My grandparents’ house was damaged in that earthquake back in March and they came to live with us right after, so we’re just here trying to…hopefully salvage some stuff, maybe see if we can fix it up.” You shrugged, waving your brush around aimlessly. “Honestly, I don’t think there’s too much we can do, that was a pretty intense quake.” Eddie didn’t mean to, but he flinched a bit at your mention of the quake, seeing as what really happened was so much worse than a natural disaster.

You noticed, instantly scrambling to rectify your statement with flaming cheeks. “I mean, obviously, you knew that, you lived through it. Sorry, that was really insensitive of me, I don’t—”

“It’s fine! Don’t worry about it.” Eddie shook his head quickly, brushing it off. “I’m—I’m okay.” I nearly got eaten alive by demon bats from hell, but I’m okay. Obviously he couldn’t tell you that. Not only would he sound absolutely insane, but it would definitely scare you off, which is something he really didn’t want.

“Right, well, anyways—” You started, but were cut off by a cleared throat from a quite severe looking woman with a clipboard standing a few feet away, who was aiming a very pointed looking glare in your direction. Leaning in a little closer, your nose wrinkled in distaste, voice hushed so as to not draw her attention even more. “That’s my supervisor. She thinks I talk too much, paint too little.”

“Supervisor? Aren’t you a volunteer?” Eddie whispered, brows furrowing.

You shrugged. “Apparently this whole carnival thing is super serious this year.”

“Uh huh, because painting pumpkins on kids’ faces is such a serious thing.”

“According to her, it’s pretty much the most serious thing in the whole history of serious things.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

You had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from bursting into laughter, such a simple act that still sent a shot of warmth through Eddie’s chest. It also garnered the attention from your supervisor, whose angry steps quickly spurred you back to business as usual.

“And what would you like painted on your face today, Eddie?”

His lips quirked into a miniscule smile at your sudden forced enthusiastic tone, which brought a flush to your cheeks.

“Sorry,” You apologized sheepishly. “Too teacher-y?”

“I’d say just enough teacher-y.” He observed, nodding thoughtfully. “Reminds me of Mrs. Paulson from middle school. Y’know, the old lady who always smelled like pepperoni.”

“Pepperoni Paulson, I remember her,” You nodded as well, then squinted at him suspiciously. “Wasn’t she arrested for public intoxication a few years ago?”

“Yeah. I stand by my point.”

You let out a noise of indignance, eyebrows creasing and nose wrinkling in such an adorable way that Eddie almost felt the need to turn tail and run.

“Okay, asshole, what do you want painted on you?” You huffed playfully, poking his arm with the pointy end of the brush in your hand.

Eddie scratched at his nose. “Eh, I dunno. Surprise me.”

“You sure you wanna give me free reign after that smug comment? Might just draw a dick on your face to be funny.”

He couldn’t help it. A snorting laugh fell from his lips at how utterly serious you looked as you dipped the brush into the colorful array of paint in front of you.

You were the first person outside his friends not to tiptoe around him like he was about to snap at any second. Maybe it was because you had no idea what had really happened in Hawkins, but he didn’t really care. He wasn’t used to it, but he liked it. He really liked it.

Both Steve and Dustin’s heads whipped around at the sound of Eddie’s laughter, regarding each other with identical wide eyed stares before gawking over at him. They hadn’t heard him laugh in months. They didn’t even know he still could laugh.

But there he was, sitting at the face painting booth across from you, head tipped back, shoulders shaking, looking…happy.

Eddie, on the other hand, felt like he was about to spontaneously combust at your close proximity—your fingers gripping his chin to keep him still, the delicate swipe of your brush across his cheek, your knees wedged between his own to get the right angle for steady strokes. How you radiated vanilla and cinnamon and the kind of warmth that spread through his own body with every carefully controlled breath he took.

To make matters worse, your tongue poked out from between your lips in pure concentration, something Eddie realized you had in common. Though he probably wasn’t as cute when he did it.

His gaze bounced around, focusing on anywhere else, anything else but you.

“You look kinda uncomfortable right now, Eddie,” You said softly, your breath a barely there puff of air across his skin that still had goosebumps raising on his arms. “Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?”

“No, I’m—I’m good! It’s just…cold out today.” He finished lamely, fingers fiddling with the rips in his pants.

“It is.” You concurred, smiling softly. “I gotta say, I definitely haven’t missed Hawkins in that area.”

Hawkins has definitely missed you, Eddie thought. Okay, maybe not Hawkins. Just me.

The paint on his cheek was cold too, but it did nothing to quell the flame of his cheeks to rosy red the more he realized that twelve year old Eddie would give anything to be where he was right now. Hell, even himself from a few months ago would’ve had an aneurysm if he knew that he actually had the chance to talk to you again.

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, jerking him back to reality. “Alright, take a look, tell me what you think.” You passed him a small mirror, leaning back in your seat. “You can tell me if you hate it. I’ll just go curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment.”

“I won’t hate it, I promise. I—” He glanced in the mirror, stopping mid-sentence when he saw what you’d created oh so carefully. A flurry of tiny bats scattered across his cheek, the black paint a stark contrast to his pale skin.

“Oh my god, you hate it!” You moaned, hiding your face behind your hands.

“I don’t!”

“You so do!”

“Y/N, I promise I don’t hate it. See, look,” He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket hastily to reveal a similar grouping of bats tattooed on his forearm. “More bats.”

The scars marring his torso and chest twinged, not out of pain, but as a reminder. Bats. Obviously, he couldn’t tell you the real reason why he wasn’t too fond of bats, but he’d sooner face the Upside Down again than tell you he hated what you’d done.

“Oh, okay. Good. Because I was afraid I just blew my chance at impressing you after all these years.”

“You—you wanted to impress me?” He asked incredulously, eyebrows furrowing.

“‘Course I did. Feels a little late to admit this, but I totally had a crush on you in middle school.”

“You did?”

“I did. I was even thinking about telling you before I left, but it just…didn’t feel right, y’know? Dropping such a big thing and then bailing?”

“Y/N, you moved away, that’s not bailing.” Eddie shook his head, then inhaled a sharp breath. “I—I actually liked you too. And I wanted to tell you back then, but then you…y’know, moved, and I thought I’d lost my chance.”

It suddenly felt a lot harder to breathe, but you managed to utter your next words despite it. “But now I’m back.”

“Now you’re back,” He repeated. “You’re back, and I get another one.” His hand came down on your knee, the warmth of his palm sending a different kind of warmth to your cheeks. “I still like you. I don’t think I ever stopped. I actually think it got worse—no, not worse! Liking you was never a bad thing, it was a really good thing. It has been a really good thing, I just—I didn’t know if I was ever gonna see you again, and now that I have, I…am totally rambling, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—”

“Eddie—”

“—overload you with my feelings, I just felt like it was something I should tell you, since—”

“Eddie,” You repeated, your hand blanketing his on your jeans. “Stop talking.” His mouth snapped shut immediately, brown eyes wide. “I still like you too.”

“You…you do?” You nodded. “Even after all these years?” Another nod, this time accompanied by a soft smile.

“Even after all these years.” You echoed, tapping along the rings adorning his knuckles. His fingers twitched, aching to entwine with yours, but he was afraid that he might be hallucinating right now. There was no way in hell you felt the same way, now or ever. He wanted to pinch himself, but he felt it might be weird.

You could tell by the way his mouth dropped open the slightest bit that the cogs in his mind were working overdrive, so you decided to take matters into your own hands. “I’m gonna kiss you now, Eddie. Feel free to stop me.”

Eddie wasn’t going to stop you. He’d never even dream about it.

When your lips touched his, he could swear that he was dreaming—that any second now, he’d wake up in his own bed, back to the reality where this whole thing never happened. Where you were still god knows where, miles and miles away from Hawkins, probably not even paying him any mind at all.

This time, he really did pinch himself, and he was beyond pleased to realize that this was real, that you were in fact here, kissing him, right now. He leaned forward into you, one hand sliding around the back of your neck while the other cupped your cheek tenderly. Yours came up to grip at his biceps, fingers curling into the worn leather of his sleeves as if you were securing him place, making sure that he couldn’t slip away the way he did all those years ago.

And when his hands moved down to your chair to drag you a little bit closer, you took that chance to take his face in yours, tracing the curve of his jaw lightly as his mouth moved against yours eagerly.

Both of you seemed to realize that you were in a public place with lots of people around at the same time, pulling away from each other swollen lipped and a little breathless, but still with identical stupid grins on your faces.

“Oh no,” You pouted, holding up your hand for him to see the splotches of black paint smudging your fingertips. “I ruined my hard work.”

“Looks like you’re just gonna have to do them all over again.”

“Looks like it.”

“Can I make a request though?” You raised an eyebrow at his sheepish turned suspiciously giddy grin. “No more bats.”

“I knew you hated them, you asshole!”

“I said I didn’t hate them! They’re really good, but bats are just…not my thing.”

“Says the boy with the bat tattoo.”

Cocking his head to the side, Eddie ignored you, instead opting to lean in and kiss you again, and of all the ways he could’ve changed the subject, this was by far the best.

Eddie had never been so grateful for his friends’ constant pestering and dragging him everywhere he didn’t want to go, because it led him back to you, the one that got away. Twelve year old Eddie knew it was you, current day Eddie knew it was you, and now you knew it too.

He’d thank Steve and Dustin later when he had the time, but not now. Eddie was too busy planning out all the things he wanted to say to you and do with you before his luck turned and you were gone again. Though if he’s being honest, he doesn’t think you’re planning on leaving anytime soon.

Neither are you. No way in hell were you thinking about leaving when coming back to Hawkins got you paint smudged fingers, some closure, and finally Eddie Munson.

Even after all these years.

taglist!

@wittiestrain184 @milkiane @pastel-abyss-x @liltimmyst @lilygreennn @nia-um @pinkdaiisies @maciiiofficial @oliviah-25 @scoopsahoykeery @eddiesquinn @bubsonnobx @yearningforeddiemunson @sanzu-holic @cityofidek @strawberry-canyon

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #guess what bitch is writing fic instead of writing a paper #spoiler alert: it's me i'm the bitch #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic

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arlh0e · 4 months

Text

Almost (sweet music)

Part: 2/? “I would do it again”

Part one here

Rating: Mature (smut at times but not rn)

Warnings: Hozier x fem!reader, angst, post-break up, sulking, long-distance, yearning, title from a Hozier lyric

Summary: You and Andrew have been broken up for a few months, you still talk regularly, but you’re beginning to understand why he thought that seperating for the duration of the tour was a good idea. You miss him dearly, but its comforting that he’ll be home soon and you’ll be able to spend time together when he comes home for the holidays.

You were so happy to be home, and after the day you had at work, all you really wanted to do was text Andrew and tell him about the idiots you work with, more specifically the fact that none of them wanted to do their job and so all of the extra work fell on you.

He hadn’t responded to the message you had sent him at lunch, so you assumed that he was busy doing an interview or a sound check before his show tonight.

He was understandably busy, but you still felt a pang of hurt at the fact that he wasn’t responding. You hadn’t heard his voice since the last time the band was staying in a hotel, which had been weeks ago. With all of the traveling, they had just been sleeping on the bus because they were never anywhere longer than a day.

You wondered how he felt about it. The utter lack of privacy on that bus had to be stressful, especially for someone like him, who enjoyed his time alone as much as he did.

Sit down on your bed and reach for your laptop, opening up youtube to check and see if there were any more interviews with him that had been posted.

You knew it was slightly obsessive that you had seen just about every interview that he had done since he left, but you really did miss him. Watching him talk about his music, if nothing else talking to someone else about it helped fill the void in your chest that had been left there by his lack of presence, even if just for an hour.

You imagined that this is how some of his fans acted with his content. Did they obsessively search for new interviews and consume every piece of media that he was a part of? You were sure they did, he was magnetic. His personality just drew you in, making you want impossibly more of him by the second. Maybe it was because of his kindness, or his passion, or maybe it was just because he was pretty, but you couldn’t blame the fans who you had seen sob at his concerts just from being so close to him.

You were pretty sure that you’d likely be in the same boat when he came to perform in Dublin. He had already promised you backstage access for all three shows because he knew how much you loved watching him perform.

If you were being honest, part of what you was kind of confused as to how this arrangement with Andrew was supposed to work. You knew that at least for the time being, you weren’t together, and yet, nothing about the fundamentals of your relationship with him had changed.

You were still painfully in love with him, as was he with you. You both still ached to be with each other and to talk as much as possible, he literally couldn’t wait until he got home and so he invited you to his shows so he could spend time with you before then.

It was incredibly frustrating. Having to go from being able to talk to him and see him whenever you wanted to wondering if it was appropriate to text or call was borderline infuriating even.

And every so often you couldn’t help the thought from passing through your mind that he could be sleeping with other people while he was on tour. With no official relationship status, he could do whatever he wanted. And you couldn’t even be mad about it, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to rip your hair out at the thought.

You hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask him about any of it, but most of your conversations had been about how you were doing at home. Or how Elwood was behaving for his parents. He never talked about how the tour was going or how he was feeling or what he was doing, and it was feeding into the idea that maybe he was doing so on purpose. Maybe this break up wasn’t for your benefit but so that he could do whatever (and whoever) he wanted while he was away without fear of consequences.

***

The Dublin shows really could not come soon enough. You really weren’t sure of when his flight was supposed to land, but you knew he had a 2 day gap between his last show and the next show in Dublin, so you were almost positive that he was already on his flight back.

You caught yourself quite frequently checking the house across the street to see if his car was in the driveway yet, or if a light was on.

You were practically buzzing with how excited you were to see him. It had been months, and just being in his presence again would be so refreshing for you.

You had decided to take a shower to get your mind off of things, or at least distract yourself from staring longingly at his house from your window.

The playlist you put on (titled “the hoziest”) was compiled of all of Andrew’s music in order of your favorites of his, though there wasn’t a single song of his that you disliked, songs like in a week and work song just made you so happy to listen to.

When you’re done in the shower, you take your time going through your night time routine, skincare, fancy pajamas, the works. Knowing that you’d be seeing Andrew soon had sent you on a spiral the last few days.

Which was ridiculous of course, seeing as how this man had literally seen you doubled over, puling your guts out with your face in a toilet from alcohol poisoning on multiple occasions (you tend to get carried away) but you still found yourself wanting to look your best for when he saw you again.

Once done, you pick your phone up off of the counter, turn your music off and walk back to your bedroom while scrolling through instagram, looking at things your friends had posted and watching reels, not bothering to look up from your phone as you made your way to your closet to hang your towels.

“You know, my offer to let you sing in the band still stands, we’d be performing in a week every night if it sounded like that.” You froze.

You knew who the voice belonged to, and you almost forgot a half second thought you were hallucinating.

Did you really miss him that badly that you were hearing his voice when he wasn’t really there?

You turned around to look in his direction. Andrew’s lanky frame was laying comfortably in your bed, his torso propped up against the bed frame, smiling at you.

You blinked once. Twice. You were sure that the confusion you felt was evident on your face, but you weren’t sure if he was actually there or if you were half asleep and imagining all this. You were almost certain that he’d disappear.

“Hey?”you offered up in confusion. You had come to the conclusion that he was actually here but you were still wondering why. And how. “I could’ve sworn I locked the door, how did you get in here?”

“Hi, I missed you too.” He laughs. The sound is quite refreshing after all this time, soft melody that graced every inch of your being. “It was, I tried knocking but you didn’t answer and I still have a key if thats alright.”

Thinking back on it, you never had asked for the spare key you had given him back. And knowing him, this was all quite fitting of a homecoming surprise. You looked over to the bedside table, a bouquet of your favorite flowers was there, sitting in a glass vase of yours, a vase that wasn’t there before. Your heart melted at the thought.

Though it didn’t make up for everything that had happened or how lonely you had felt without him here, you were glad to see that he was at least trying.

“Hmm, I dont know, I do seem to remember a promise of groveling for my forgiveness when you got home.” You raise an eyebrow at him with a smile and a small laugh, while you cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe of your closet.

“And here I thought I’d be able to get out of it.” He smiles and stands to make his way over to you. His hands snake their way around your waist, resting firmly at the small of your back while he looks down at you. “I missed you terribly, my love.”

You just continue with your sly smirk, cocking your head while looking up at him, silently telling him that this was not the agreement in full. He laughs in return and slowly sinks to his knees in front of you. “Im so sorry, darling.” He plants a kiss on the bit of exposed skin below your shirt. “Won’t you forgive me?”

Your hands move to tangle in his hair, lightly tugging him away from your mid drift, moving his face so that his eyes come in contact with yours while you smile down at him.

“Sweet boy, you’re going to have to try much harder than that.”

Smut in the next chapter! consider yourself warned!!!!!

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #unreal unearth #eat your young #writeblr #writer things #writers and poets #writerscommunity #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #ao3 writer #writerblr #writerscreed #writers on tumblr #female writers #writers block

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softagenda · 7 months

Text

until my bones crack and become dust (vere)

vere x reader(f)

canon divergence - new meeting, mates, senobium captured mc

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview

“Begin the experiment. Present the mate candidate.”

“Specimen 394. Recent traveler to Eridia. Arrived two days ago, requested assistance from the curse breaker division.”

_______________________________________________

“Come, Vere.”

Hilda unhooked the back of his collar with a quick twist of wrist. With a languid stretch, Vere straightened from his lean against the wall and brushed the back of his clothes. The pressure of the seal eased on his body, allowing just enough slack on the chains to breathe a little easier. He followed after her, already bored at the prospect of another hunt. “Lowtown today?”

“In the afternoon, perhaps. It’s the first Thursday.”

It took a moment for him to remember the significance of that. “Oh, right. That.” Vere yawned as she led the way down three more hallways, then a locked door in the heart of the tower. Once inside, they descended a hundred steps before arriving at the cold dungeon.

He squinted in the painfully bright lights and clinical white walls, his tail tucked and still against his back. Never liked the place. He’d spent several decades there before as the mages experimented and dissected various parts of his body. Nowadays, after those fruitless years, they only ever brought him down to monitor his health and the seal’s impact on his organs.

And the first Thursday of each month.

Hilda nodded at several mages as they passed, before pausing at a door in the middle of the hall. She drew a six pointed star across the front, her finger tracing a prismatic glow, then opened the door. “I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t cause trouble.”

Vere rolled his eyes and sauntered inside.

The room was small, lined wall to floor in simple stone, and devoid of all furniture except a single chair in the middle of the room. The wall on the right looked into a second examination room through a sheet of warded glass. On the other side stood a single, steel table with iron cuffs at the side and foot.

A mage entered after him and stood by the window, facing him, her clipboard balanced on her hip and taking notes with a quill.

“Would it kill you to put a decent chair in here? A footstool, at least.” With a huff, Vere sat in the wooden chair and crossed his legs. His chin propped on his knuckles, he settled in for the brief show and the nap that would undoubtedly interrupt it.

Within minutes, the door in the other room opened and three people shuffled in.

Two Senobium mages in pristine white uniforms dragged a prisoner onto the steel table. The woman swayed, her knees buckling, unable to stand. Drugged. Still, she resisted more than most of them did, her hands - bandaged, oddly enough - swiping sluggishly at their faces before they’d snapped them in the cuffs.

Her hair spilled over the table’s surface, shining beneath the offensively bright mage lights. The prisoner twisted in the bonds, her eyes swiveling around the room, hazy and confused. She had a pretty face beneath the gag in her mouth: thick lashes, full lips, soft skin. The thin, prisoner’s gown left little to the imagination, her soft curves and lithe muscle bunching as she writhed.

He felt the barest twinge of pity for her, knowing what was to come and the pointless cruelty of it.

Vere watched, his face a mask of indifference beneath the mage’s scrutiny. He met her gaze before glancing behind him with a scowl. “Must we continue this?”

“Yes.”

“The outcome will not change. Hasn’t the hypocrisy made a dent in that sanctimonious superiority yet?”

Her face turned stony. She ignored his question, her hawkish gaze on his face.

“You could at least provide refreshments for this. How am I meant to enjoy the show without wine or fruits?” Vere purred, shifting his finger to hold his temple. He withheld a smirk at her pinched expression.

“Begin the experiment. Present the mate candidate.”

“Specimen 394. Recent traveler to Eridia. Arrived two days ago, requested assistance from the curse breaker division.”

That peaked his interest. Vere looked back, his eyes narrowing on the woman before settling on the bandages. Hmm. His senses were somewhat muffled by the stone and glass separating them, but he took a long, quiet breath, scenting the air.

Leather and dust. A dash of something metallic, steel or blood, he couldn’t distinguish. A sharp, smokey smell - the scent left by a lightning strike. Inhuman. Ancient magic . And something… sweet.

Flowery and ripe, tangy. A fresh peach.

His hindbrain awoke in a sudden, disorientating flash of clarity.

Vere blinked, his body held perfectly still. His heart, normally responsive only to the prospect of a good hunt and a fresh meal, picked up in his chest. This human’s smell. There was something - different about it.

He huffed and forced his body to relax, his tail wrapping around the back of the chair. A yawn earned him a flat look from his guard, even as his mind shuffled through rapid fire explanations and suspicions.

Vere took another long, deep breath. His senses latched on to that fruity after taste, saliva pooling in his mouth. Was it the magic, or the evident suffering that had deeply scarred the woman’s soul? Both could affect the taste of the flesh and spirit, but he’d never encountered one so… sweet.

In the other room, one mage withdrew a knife from his coat pocket.

She sensed it immediately, her eyes narrowing on the blade. Her hands balled into fists, pushing against the steel cuffs to no avail. Cursed . He looked over the bandages, wishing he could smell her better. That would tell him exactly where the odor of ancient magic exuded from. In the cramped space, the odors and scents of all three people grew trapped, fogging up the air.

Still, having been kidnapped off the street and tossed in that frock, it was unlikely they’d keep the bandages on her if they weren’t necessary in some capacity.

“Initiating round one: minor lacerations.”

Her eyes sharpened on him, the knife, and then the ceiling. She seemed to brace herself, her jaw clenching.

His fox stirred inside, roused by the scent of her fear.

Her body flinched at the first practiced cut to her bicep. Metallic and cloying, blood perfumed into the air.

Vere let his right hand fall to the side of the arm’s chair, his claws biting into the wood, posed carefully out of sight from the mage. An irrational irritation welled up inside him - rather than entice him, the scent of her blood and fear threatened to raise his hackles.

What the fuck was happening to him?

The mage cut another line, then another three, until five neat rows of trickling blood dripped down her arm. The scent of blood was now thick in the air, melding with her fear and pain and resignation. He could even smell the odor drifting off of the mages inside as one grew aroused at the sight of her flinching, her body’s muted writhing, her bruised lip as she bit down on the gag to keep any noise from escaping.

Fur brushed against the back of his arms and waist as his tail swished in agitation. As though every cut represented an insult to him, his irritation had quickly bottlenecked into a fury he had never felt before - certainly not for a stranger.

It was growing increasingly difficult to pretend he was not affected by the scene, and the realization stunned and horrified him.

The fuck did he care if they tortured this woman - one of nearly four hundred score, brought in once a month to be cut and violated in a useless attempt to get a rise out of him?

It had never worked. At first he had enjoyed the sessions, feeding off the grief and suffering like a mid-morning snack. Somewhere before one hundred, he’d grown bored with the affair.

He’d never felt like this. Not even close.

The mage was making notes on her clipboard, her head tilted curiously.

“Initiating round two: physical touch.”

A distant rush of sound echoed through his ears. Vere gripped the side of the chair, his claws cutting through the wood like butter, as the mage stinking of arousal set the knife on the table and hovered a hand over the prisoner.

“Due to level 5 contamination in the hands and forearms, this stage will begin with upper torso.”

Definitely cursed, and a nasty one at that.

He wanted to ponder that longer, perhaps even fantasize over what this curse might do to the disgusting pigs pawing at her, but found his focus unwaveringly poised on that bloody hand.

With leering eyes, the mage peeled back the top of her gown. Faint scars crawled over her chest and shoulders - white and smoothed with age. He lowered his bare hand onto her bare shoulder and held there, even as his eyes dropped to the curve of her breasts.

If looks could kill, the searing hatred in her glare would have killed him on contact.

Vere’s fangs pushed at the edge of his gums. He could see his eyes burning in the reflection of the glass, bright pink and violent, fixed on that hand.

He wanted to bite , to tear . He longed to drag that man across the rough road and sharp dregs of the wastes until his screams dissolved into misshapen sobs, his face little more than a smear of blood and flesh. Then he would cut into the skin of that hand and peel it like fruit until every inch that had dared touch her could be burned.

His corpse would make a fine toy for Ais’ soulless.

The mage dragged his hand across her chest, fingertips brushing the edge of her collar bones, before wrapping around her throat loosely.

She was shaking - with rage, fear, deep shame, he wasn’t sure. Fresh blood hit the air, seeping from her balled fists. Her nails must have bitten into her own flesh.

Vere’s eye twitched.

He was more fox than man, his fury rippling through his body, a song of violence that echoed deep into his bones. Thoughts had left him. His attempts to unravel the completely foreign reaction he was experiencing subsumed beneath a clamor of urges, instincts. Get your filthy hands off her. How dare you touch what does not belong to you . That woman is beyond you. She’s - mine.

Vere froze. The word reverberated within him, bizarre, outlandish, and yet - right. So right the growl held back within his chest began to rumble through him.

Mine . Mine mine mine .

The haze of possessive, righteous fury clouded his mind, his senses.

Unbeknownst to the fool beyond the window, the mage moved to the next location - his hand dragging down her chest, pushing the thin gown aside to grab her breast.

Her eyes clenched tight, her disgust visceral on her face.

Vere saw red.

The hand severed from the wrist in a spray of blood.

Three seconds passed.

In the first, the shadows of the room clawed at the mages with vicious abandon.

In the second, Vere had locked his hands at his observer’s jaw and nape, twisting with enough brute force to twist her head all the way around.

In the third, bodies dropped to the floor - two in a spray of blood, one a doll with her strings cut.

His heart hammered in his chest. He panted under the pressure of the chains, his beast writhing against the collar and seal imprisoning his true self. Sweat covered his body, his tail twitching with rage.

Vere turned and punctured the glass with his claws. His fist slammed into them, destroying the seal with brute force until cracks spread across the surface in a spidery web before the window shattered. He jumped through, shards of glass fracturing beneath his boot.

Wide-eyed, her fear thick in the air, the woman looked up at him.

He lurched over her and scented her thoroughly, his face pressed to the crook of her neck. That sweet, tangy scent stole his senses until he had swiped his tongue over her skin, nipped at the flesh. A small sound echoed from her throat, causing naked want to pool thick and insistent in his belly.

In a dazed moment of complete insanity, he pictured himself taking her on the examination table, biting into her neck and holding her to the slab of steel as he plunged himself into her wet heat and rutted until his lust and fire had been sated.

Then a siren erupted outside the room. They had moments before mages would be flooding down the hall, with weapons blessed with holy water, the Abbess ready and waiting to take hold of his chains once more.

His sense returned, and he cut the manacles holding her instead. The tip of his claws accidentally nicked the bandages as well, the length falling limp to the table and revealing skin like a summer storm, threaded through with gold veins.

She immediately grabbed for him, to pull him off, to attack - her hands clasped the iron chain draping over his back. The metal burned white hot and hummed at the touch and then -

Vere gasped.

The seal weakened.

The cloistering seal that had pinned him in for so long, trapped him within the confines of these chains and this body, only to be released at the bidding of the wretched Senobium - and only then at a fraction of his power, neutered, tamed.

Her hand had dropped the chain in shock.

Vere snatched her arm up and held her against the collar, pressing her skin to the seal, manic with impending euphoria.

“Yes. Yes ,” he hissed as her flesh continued to siphon off the power of the seal.

She stared into his glowing, monstrous eyes, her total confusion and shock obvious, until her hand curled around the collar. Her grip tightened as she focused intently on the leather - and the seal began to weaken at an even faster pace.

She was deliberately eroding the seal. Helping him.

Vere pushed with all his might against the remaining magic binding him to his current form, straining and snarling, his body morphing, bones breaking and shifting, fur pushing from his skin -

The collar snapped, and he was free .

A booming, high cackle filled his ears, and it took a moment for him to realize it was Vere himself. His true form consumed what little space existed in the room. The ceiling bowed above him. The door had been blasted off its hinges and shattered into the hall outside.

He felt a flurry of movement below him and craned his snout down to peer at her.

The woman gazed up at him in horrified awe. Now, he scented her and shuddered under the full brunt of that scent. Sweet, tangy, ripe and mouthwatering. He wanted to roll in it. To climb between her legs and drink straight from the source.

His mate.

Nearly four hundred attempts by the damned Senobium to locate her, to find this one being who they believed could be used against him, to bend him to their will in ways they had not succeeded in millenia - and in the span of minutes she had freed him entirely from their control. The enormity of this discovery was something to consider later, but for now -

Vere wanted to laugh. He wanted to swallow her whole.

Mostly, he wanted to get as far away from the tower as possible and as fast as he could run.

He opened his mouth and curled his tongue around her, dragging her into his maw. She screamed and fought him, those perfect little hands scratching at his palate. When ten minutes had passed of him barreled his way out of the tower, crushing mages beneath his paws, she seemed to realize he wasn’t going to eat her (yet) and sat just behind his teeth to watch.

Soon he was sprinting over the wastes, the wind in his fur, power singing through every vein of his body.

Vere had a thousand ideas for what to do with his new found freedom, but he supposed the first would be this: laying claim to his mate and ensuring she was bound to his side, forever.

____________________________________

comments and likes very much appreciated! thanks for reading!

#touchstarved fic #vere x mc #vere x reader #vere reader fic #touchstarved vere #touchstarved imagines #touchstarved fanfic

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wakandas-vibranium · 1 year

Text

Wednesday Nights || Part Four

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, time skip, angst, fluff

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Sorry if this chapter seems a bit choppy. I am not a fan of time skips. Four chapters down, one more to go. Thank y'all for reading. Please like, comment, and share!

part one

part two

part three

part five

“Mom!”

You awakened with a jolt, in a cold sweat in your new living quarters. You'd been suffering the same nightmare for 20 years. You had to witness your mother turn and attack your father, turning him. Then, before they could attack and turn you, they were both gunned down.

That was 20 years ago and you still weren’t fully recovered. Your luck finally started to come through these last six months.

You were walking alone in the winter cold. The cold air was stinging on your skin as you traveled down the icy river.

Six people on horses surrounded you and grilled you so badly that you thought they were going to kill you. One of the men on the horses yanked his bandana down over his face and screamed your name so loudly that he startled the horses and a few of the others with him.

“Y/N!” Tommy called as he hopped down from his horse, running over to you. Even though his hair was longer and he'd grown a beard, you recognized Tommy right away.

The blood rushed to your face so quickly that you almost passed out. You thought he was dead. You assumed all three of them were all dead. You peered over Tommy's shoulder at the other riders as he drew you into a crushing hug. You didn't see Joel. Was Joel still alive? Was he even here with Tommy?

You rode back with Tommy on his horse, relieved to be off your feet. You'd been walking for weeks. You were in the dining hall eating with Tommy and his new wife, Maria. She was gorgeous and a little intimidating, but she made small talk.

You couldn’t help but notice her body language and the way her lips would thin into a straight line and shoulders would tense at any mention of Joel. Tommy let you know as soon as possible that Sarah didn’t make it. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, but managed to keep it together. Before today, you already assumed she died.

“It’s not like your brother is the best at making decisions,” Maria mumbled, fighting back an eye roll.

Tommy was sharing with you some of the things he and Joel had to do in order to survive. You’d done similar things and a few worse things. You weren’t one to judge and you weren’t going to judge Tommy and Joel. They were the only family you had left.

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You snapped, no longer able to ignore the jabs Maria kept taking at Joel.

And the fact that Tommy just sat there and let her insult his brother really pissed you off. Not so much Tommy, but Maria's uppity demeanor got under your skin. Who the hell did she think she was? Good for her if she never had to stoop so low to survive in this shitty post-apocalyptic world. Good for fuckin' her, you thought.

Tommy leaned forward and whispered something into his wife's ear. She cringed and glanced at you before apologizing. Tommy opted to change the subject and asked you what happened to you on breakout day.

“My parents turned right in front of me. Before I could even comprehend what was happenin’ to ‘em they were shot dead.”

You remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was awful. Your parents were taken from you too fast. It was unfair.

“Then I hauled ass across Austin to try and get to you, Joel and Sarah. None of you were answering your phones so I figured it must have been happening around y’all too.”

You had a severe panic attack once you realized that you were well and truly on your own. You were lost. You didn’t know what to do without any of them. How were you supposed to survive in a world when your favorite five people no longer existed?

“Eventually I ended up working with a small group of nine people to help find a cure for whatever this was. I worked with doctors, nurses, scientists on this. We were desperate to find a cure. Tommy, I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, but we’ve exhausted every single possibility and nothing. There is no cure for this.”

“Wow.” Tommy said, sighing deeply at your newfound news. He had held out hope that there was a cure, but he wasn’t shocked that there wasn’t one.

Enough about you. Tommy told you that Joel was alive and I just missed him by a few weeks.

“Where is Joel?”

“Ellie—the young girl he’s with is immune. Joel took her to a hospital — a firefly post so that they could use Ellie’s blood to make a cure.” Tommy explained cooly.

“What?” You uttered lowly. You had your fair share of run-ins with the fireflies. Enough for a lifetime, and each instance damn near cost you your life. You had the awful pleasure of meeting their leader, Marlene. She had an impressive right hook, but your left was a lot meaner.

The nine people you'd been traveling with for the past 20 years were all dead. The majority were killed by clickers, while the others were killed by firefly bombs. You were furious and alone. On a mission to find Marlene, the leader of the fireflies.

You were determined to kill her where she stood. You'd had a few run-ins with Marlene, and they always ended bloody.

You didn't belong to FEDRA or the Fireflies. You were part of a small group of surgeons, biologists, nurses, and medical researchers. You were the only immunologist on the team. Shortly after the outbreak, all nine of you got together to try to find a cure. You clung to them after you assumed Joel, Sarah, and Tommy were no longer alive.

After your parents were killed, you attempted to drive across town to Joel's house, but the highway was already shut down. You'd also overheard from an officer that Joel's neighborhood was a hot zone full of infected people. You were devastated. You had no family left within a matter of hours.

You last saw her and her band of fireflies in Atlanta about a year ago. She ordered her men to blow up a couple buildings where you and the rest of your group were hiding from FEDRA. You barely escaped with your life. Everyone else who was with you died. Blown to smithereens.

“There is no fuckin’ cure, Tommy.”

“But Joel said—“

“—Well whoever told Joel and Ellie that is a goddamn liar. They’re gonna kill that poor girl and it’ll have been for nothin’.”

Tommy chewed on his lip, pondering your information. He was probably even more worried about his brother now. As he should be. Joel wasn’t safe with the fireflies. No one was.

“Is there any way to contact them?” You asked, still hopeful.

“They’ve been gone for a month, Y/N,” Tommy admitted, hesitancy heavy in his voice, “Joel said they’d come back once they were finished.”

“Hopefully Joel realizes that Ellie will die and they’ll come back.” Maria reasoned, shooting you a small smile.

“This isn’t good.” You exhaled sharply.

Anyway, that was five months ago. You were still with them in Jackson. It was a safe community that actually thrived plus you weren’t going to give up the opportunity to see Joel again.

You were with Tommy in Jackson for almost six months now and still no word from Joel or his whereabouts.

You were starting to get discouraged.

You didn’t know it, but off in the far distance, Joel and Ellie were making their way back to Jackson.

You just needed to hold on just a little while longer.

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xxfangirl365xx · 1 month

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Question: "What is a day you'll never forget?"

Ghoul's answer: The Day we met Show Pony

NOTE: Written in my wattpad a few months ago, i posted Jet's and Kobra's here so here is Ghoulie's (:

Mine predates all of the other guys' stories and it's kinda sappy but why not. Mine was the day I met my fellow prankster Show Pony. Despite popular belief they didn't just roll up and start hanging around with us.

The four of us ( Poison, Kobra ,Jet and I) had been in the zones about a year and had pretty well adjusted to life out in the middle of nowhere. We were on patrol by ourselves, one of the first times Dr.D let us do that alone. Basically we got to drive around all day, nothing usually ever happened. On this day in particular we were on our way home and spotted something off in the distance...Dracs? Possibly. We drew out ray guns and headed over only to be met with a horrifying scene of three people, all fairly young, seemingly dead.

"Dear Destroya" Poison remarked observing the sad scene

They definitely had just escaped the city and made it pretty far into the zones...unfortunately they were unarmed and didn't stand much of a chance.

Jet went to the three and looked to see if by some miracle they were alive. First two were a sad head shake no.

The third person had long dirty tangled black hair and was maybe about 17 years old...about the same age as me. Jet gently grabbed their wrist expecting nothing and were were all shocked when he found a pulse.

" Guys! This one's alive!"

" They're bleeding from somewhere on their head" Kobra noted, hiding behind his brother, scared for who knows what reason.

It's not a secret that I hate blood, I get a paper cut and nearly pass out and the guys make fun of me for it a lot, but this time it didn't bug me, I was much more bothered by the fact this poor kid was now hurt and alone laying next to their dead friends. I wasted no time In gently picking them up and we headed back to the car so we could go back to the diner and hopefully help this kid. I rested their head in my lap to keep them as comfortable as I could on the ride home. I took my vest off and covered them with it because it was getting cold. I felt really bad, you know, I was so lucky to have found a good group to rely on and call my family and I think this made me realize how fortunate I really was. This kid needed a friend and I decided to be that friend.

We got home and I carried their limp body in the diner and laid them on an extra mattress we had.

" YO DR.D" Poison yelled

" What's up boys?" He asked coming into the room a few seconds later ( this was before he hurt his leg)

"We found this wanderer on the route home" Poison explained " Their buddies were dead but they're alive for the time being"

He stood over my shoulder looking at the kid

" Should I call a doctor?" he asked after a second

" Aren't you a doctor?" Kobra asked confused

He laughed, realizing he had never clarified where that title came from

" It's just a name, I ain't got a degree to back it up. I don't know shit about medicine" he continued

" Ohhhhh..." we exclaimed in unison

"I'll call someone" He said leaving the room

I sat next to the kid for a while, just watching the rise and fall of their chest for what seemed like hours until an actual doctor came.

He looked them over before coming to the conclusion they were in perfect health other than a head injury.

" Just keep a close eye on them for the next few days,once they wake up they may be a little out of it but I'm sure they will be okay." He said before him and Dr.D went outside to smoke a cigar and gossip for a while.

" Well, you heard him. I guess they're gonna be alright" Jet said. "Well' I'm gonna go change the tire on the Trans-am, it's got a leak."

" I'll come watch." Poison said , Kobra following right behind his brother

Jet poked his head in the doorway after a second.

"You coming Ghoul?"

" Nah, I'm gonna sit with them." I said

" alright"

I sat for a while enjoying some silence until the kid began to wake up. Of course I had never been in a situation like this before.

I sat next to them and gently moved the hair out of their face.

"Ugghhh-shit" they mumbled groggily

'"Uhhh...Um.." what are you supposed to say in this situation?! " He-y?"

They looked over at me and the first they they said...I kid you not was

" Why do you have a bee on your sleeve?"

I looked at my shirt sleeve..I do have a bee on my shirt. Huh...good observation.

" Who...are you? You look funny." They said again

" I'm Fun ghoul, I'm Killjoy." I explained " what's your name?" I asked, unsure if they could answer that question. To my surprise they answered rather quick

" I've been waiting foreverrr for someone to ask me that. My name's Show Pony." They said slurring their speech.

" Nice to meet you, Show Pony... How ya feeling?"

"I dunno" they giggled

"Looks like you hit your head pretty bad huh?"

" I think so" they said continuing to giggle like a crazy person

" What's so funny?" I asked starting to laugh too

" The room's spinning it's like a carnival ride"

" Oh yeah that is fun- do you like carnivals?"

"Yeah...no clowns though"

" Oh you don't like clowns?"

" nu uh they're creepy and smelly...am I smelly? The dessert is gross." They thought for a second before they started crying

" Am I a clown? I'm weird looking and I smell" they said in between tears

I forgot the kind of wack mood swings that happened when you were going through withdrawals from BLI brainwash drugs.

'"Hey, you're not a clown, don't cry" I said, trying to comfort them.

Without a second though I knelt down further and hugged them.

They stopped for a second and were perfectly still.

" I overstepped and made them uncomfortable!" I said in my head " Oh Ghoul you idiot!"

To my surprise they hugged back and quietly whispered

" Thank you"

I spent the rest of the night doing my best to take care of Show Pony and just chatting and giving them a hard time while they tried to tell lame jokes such as this fun one at 2:07 AM

" Hey Ghoul Knock Knock"

"Who's there?"

" Boo"

" what?"

" Nooo you're supposed to say boo who!"

" Aww don't cry Pony"

" Your a jerk"

Show Pony became very good friends with us all and impressed Dr.D with their intense knowledge of music and when he started his station he made Show Pony his official helper.

So yeah, I love Pony, they're one of my best friends no matter how annoying they can be, one of my favorite people and a part of my large Zone family.

Anyways that's my story, see ya later

-Fun Ghoul

#my chemical romance #mcr #show pony #danger days the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #the fabulous killjoys #fun ghoul #party poison #jet star #kobra kid #mcr fanfiction #my chemical fucking romance #danger days

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camellia-salazar · 8 hours

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April's drawings and doodles!! Get ready! 🎉🌟

At first, I was gonna draw ARG tangled in some rope, but then the rope looked like a ribbon, so I made Gangle into a monster instead. Also, I drew two of the most underated cats from Warriors ever, especially Lionheart.

(I started this first but finished it second). Drawings of certain characters cause their birthdays this month, except for Colin his birthday is at the end of March. I just forgot to draw him. I just love how Cody, Popee, and Waluigi share the same birthday, tho. 🎉

Edit: (No offense to those born on April 1st, btw).

I was writing a story with these six, inspired by The New Prophecy. But I haven't written it in some time. Idk if I'll ever continue it. I don't think I'll post it anywhere, either. Probably.

The next two drawings I started a month or so ago but didn't finish until this month.

Took quite a while to finish, but I'm glad I did. Idk where this takes place yet, but it is a scene from that crossover I keep thinking about but never really writing down.

Either takes place before or after the drawing above it, I don't really remember. What I do know, tho is that I drew these drawings because idk I just felt like Adam would have interesting interactions with some other characters.

I rushed this at the end. I did not want to leave it out. I want a clean slate next month. God damn it. I love crossovers, how bout you?

More about the Multifandom lore and other stuff below if you want:

Characters who die in canon that end up in the place (idk what to call it) keep being in the clothing that they died in. (Rip Ram and Kurt from Heathers: the Musical). (Spoilers warning if needed) So Adam is stuck with his robe he wore during the war with Charlie and the others from the hotel.

Also, about the 3rd drawing, like I said, it's an idea I had that, yes, takes place in the same crossover thing I think about. The colors in the background of each kiddo are involved in it, too.

The first two drawings are pretty much just some random doodles (idk what to do with the one with ARG and monster Gangle) while the other three kinda have stories to them that may or may not be written or animated on someday. (God, I hope that last sentence made sense).

Oh, and Bluey, Bingo and their cousins got to visit the Cul-De-Sac cause of a reason that's also in the multifandom/crossover I think about, I don't know if I should explain it or not. Meh.

BTW I've tried to match the original art styles of everything before, but this time, I've taken some steps forward. The hardest thing to figure out is the claynimated ones like Orel, Clay, and Claire. But I managed (for now, probably).

Edit: i went back and fixed it, I feel so much better about it now.

I even tried to have it seem like Bluey and others are slowly transitioning to the EEnE art style a bit.

But anyways, thanks for looking at my art and reading my rant! (If you did, if not, don't worry)

Have a good one! 🌟✨️✨️👋

(i keep forgetting to include my logo in my fanarts, but whatever, maybe next time, maybe next year ill start. Idk.)

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vukovich · 10 months

Note

V: video 👀

--I missed this from a prompt game, and now I can't find the prompt list, so it is hereby bequeathed the status of a Peculiar Prompt--

It Happened in a Blockbuster (as was the style at the time)

Y2K was probably all made up, Draco figured as he passed the news stand. The cover stories were nonsense about computers, and those, as far as he could tell, were actually magical.

But it was nothing to worry about. Or that's what Pansy had said when he mentioned it a few months ago. In October? No, September. Had it been that long?

The bell above the video store door jingled as he entered. He'd half-expected it to be closed at 8 PM on New Year's Eve.

After he slid his DVD returns through the slot, he took a deep breath. It always smelled the same. Something like socks, rubber, and artificial butter. The decor was bold blue and yellow, or had been before a decade's sun and slush, and maybe under the shelves, the carpet was still bright.

The clerk gave him a passing wave and went back to his magazine. His name was Terry, but Draco had never addressed him as such, because learning someone's name via their nametag felt illicit. He wouldn't call him by his name unless they'd properly introduced themselves, which they hadn't. And probably wouldn't.

Draco went days at a time without speaking to anyone. Not because he wanted to, it was just that there was rarely someone to talk to.

New releases first, right by the door, but Draco had already watched them. To the right, the children's movies with their covers like sweets boxes. To the left, in tidy alphabetical order, were films that had been in the store for between one and three months, precisely, and then they'd be shelved forevermore by genre and title.

Documentaries were what he rented most, but they weren't his favorite. They were good for when he wanted to feel as though he were sitting in companionable silence with someone. Action films were best for when his thoughts were too loud and needed to be drowned out by car chases and explosions. Romance movies were his favorite, but he was rarely in a state to watch them.

He'd never climb Mt Everest like in a documentary, or take down a rival car thief gang, but love? Unfortunately, love was something he could have, and the fact that he didn't was too much to sit with.

The wedding invitations started coming in like junk mail last year. Draco had tossed them all in his building's dumpster. Not many people had noticed his missing RSVPs.

He didn't need to witness romance in a church or on a television screen. Not if he could help it.

And especially on New Year's Eve. Alone.

He hadn't planned on becoming a film junkie. And maybe he wasn't really. He rarely remembered an actor or producer's name. He couldn't say what was a "bad" film versus a "good" one. Everything he knew about films was subjective. He liked blonde leads, either all romance or no romance, because a romance taking second booking to an action plot was an insult to both.

But having watched most of the local Blockbuster's stock hadn't been in his post-war plans. Well, assuming he'd had post-war plans. Which he didn't. Everyone else did, and they'd gone out and done them.

He thumbed through copies of Muppets from Space to see if one might be an extended edition. It wasn't.

A shorter man took down a copy of Never Been Kissed and turned it over in his hands. Drew Barrymore was one of Draco's least favorite lead actresses, so the fact that she mainly did romantic comedies was just fine by him. If he ever had to sit though her narrating a documentary, he'd-

"Malfoy?" Harry Potter was standing there, holding Drew Barrymore in his hands. "Hey, cool. I didn't know you lived around here."

He reached out to vaguely shake Draco's hand, skirted it into an almost-high five, then smoothed his hair back.

It was surreal seeing him somewhere like this. Arguably a bigger celebrity than anyone on that movie box, but Muggles didn't know. It was no big deal when he ran into Neville in the grocery store, or Granger at the bank. They weren't Harry Potter.

"Yeah," was all Draco said. "On Wilson Ave."

"Okay, well," Harry said, "Um, see you around?"

He waved the movie box as he turned to leave, but only made it a few paces before he stopped.

Draco quirked an eyebrow in question.

Harry bit the inside of his lip, then eventually said, "People talk about you." Before Draco could react, Harry shook his head, then added, "Not like, in a bad way. Like, we check in on you."

Draco's brow furrowed. "What?"

"It just comes up sometimes, you know? Has anyone seen Malfoy lately? How's he doing? What's he up to? You know, just stuff like that."

"Oh," Draco said.

"I just..." Harry smoothed his hair back with the movie box. "I just thought you might like knowing, you know?"

"Oh."

Draco looked down at the geometric patterns in the faded carpet. Did it matter that his classmates kept tabs on him? Like a surveillance web. Some kind of watchful net.

It made a certain warmth spread through his chest, because it did matter.

"Thanks," he said, swallowing thickly. He nodded towards Harry's hand. "That's probably an awful film. You'll have to believe in the kissability of Drew Barrymore."

Harry pulled a face and put it back on the shelf. "Dodged a bullet. Want to help me pick something else out? I'm not in a hurry."

Draco's lips cracked a smile. "Sure."

Three days later, he returned Austin Powers: the Spy Who Shagged Me, and took copies of Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery, GoldenEye, License to Kill,and Romeo + Juliet up to the desk.

"Hi, Terry," he said.

Terry rolled his eyes and scanned Draco's Blockbuster card. "You've got a late fee of... " he squinted at the computer monitor. "Two hundred thousand, five hundred, and thirty-seven pounds?"

Draco gasped. That Y2K nonsense really had turned all the computers evil.

#drarry #peculiar prompts #eventually you get so old that you have to put links in your fics so the young people understand them

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birb-boyo · 9 months

Text

FHDHDHDDH

Thank you guys for asking about my Linksona(that word sounds so weird)

This is a very long post just so you all know

Everything is under the cut

The Hero of the Seas (:

My Link would probably fit sometime after Wind Waker, when there are still seas and actual pirates. I guess that I will start with the backstory

Before they were born, at least five hundred years, there was a prophecy, though, through the years, the prophecy has been lost to time.

The only part that Hyrule remembers is,

“A forsaken prince will redefine what it takes to be a hero”

Soon after that prophecy was heard, the king of Hyrule made a law that stated that any and all Gerudo princes were to be treated as royalty.

Time skip to soon after my Link’s birth, the current king of Hyrule disregarded the law and set it aside as if it never existed. This king put a bounty on the newly born Gerudo prince.

When Link was five, his home was stormed and raided by pirates. Link’s mother was murdered and he was stolen.

These pirates were only the first ones to see them out of many. They were traded, bartered, and sold into slavery many times until they were fifteen years old. When they were fifteen, another pirate crew bought them, though, they treated them like they were a human. They fed them nicely, told them thank you, they even cleaned and cooked their own stuff. It took them a full year to realize that they were free and that this crew bought them to free them of their shackles, even though they took off the chains as soon as he left the auction.

It took them a while to learn how to love and to learn how to smile again.

Their adventure started when they were seventeen. It started when the crew bought another slave. They looked to be Link’s age and they never spoke. They told the crew, in sign, that their name was Faro. It took a full month for them to speak, but when they did, it was in private with Link.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Link’s eyebrows furrowed at the new, foreign voice.

“I’ve never heard you speak before…”

“You’re that forsaken prince, aren’t you?” At this point, Link had no idea of the prophecy. He’d never heard of it before.

“I’m no prince, Faro. I was a slave until two years ago, princes do not scrub decks.”

“The world has forsaken a Gerudo prince. You are the forsaken prince.” Faro extended their hand to Link. “I need you more than anything right now.”

Link looked around the deck. It was the dead of night. Link and Faro were on night watch tonight. It was just the two of them tonight. Link wondered if this is what Faro came here for, just for him.

“What do you need me for?”

“The king is a tyrant. I only recently found out why he disregarded such an important law.”

Link tilted his head. “What law?”

Faro stood up straight and looked at Link with dumbfounded eyes. “What do you mean, “What law?!” That law would’ve protected you! You’d still have your family if my father was such a-“ Faro paused.

“Your…father?” There was a strict rule on the ship. A rule everyone knew but didn’t speak of. Pirates are outlaws. If any royal found out that pirates had bought the princess, their ship would sink in hours. The Marines were no joke. They did not allow anyone important on this ship, no matter how much they said that they would pay.

Faro grabbed Link’s shoulders. “Please! He is tearing this kingdom apart and we need a hero to stop him!”

“I’m no hero! The ones you compare me to all fought a Gerudo man named Ganondorf! If you really needed a hero, go find a Hylian to do it!”

Faro let go of Link. They took a deep breath before get on one knee in front of Link. Faro grabbed Link’s hand and pressed the back of it to their forehead. “Please, Link. I truly believe that you are the only one who can defeat him. Just please, you must help me…”

Link felt a tingle on the back of his hand and drew his hand away from Faro. Sitting a beautiful gold on the back of his hand, were three triangle. The one on the bottom right glowed brighter than the other two. He stared at it in awe. “…What?”

Faro jumped up and cheered. “I was right! It is you!” They laughed and giggled, but Link stared at his hand, a feeling of giddiness and dread filling him to the brim.

“What is this?”

“The triforce of courage Link! You are the next hero of Hyrule!”

Faro told the crew about everything on the next day, it didn’t help that the triangle still glowed brightly on his hand.

“Well, as I hear it, the king tried to murder his next hero. Why?” Nan, basically the crew’s mom, asked.

“Because he is the one the hero must fell.”

Link turned to Faro, his confusion evident on his face. “Aren’t the heroes supposed to serve the king?”

“There is a lot of things wrong about my father. One of those things are his name. His name wasn’t originally Rhodes. It’s a family secret, but he was born with the name Ganondorf.”

Nan hummed. “So the king needs to be dethroned. Tell me, Faro, does that mean that you’ll be leaving us after this?”

Faro sighed. “I would love to stay, really, but this kingdom needs a ruler. I don’t trust my father’s advisers with the throne. I find that my duty is more important.”

Link nodded, a new fire in his eyes. “Where do I start?”

Nan scoffed. “You mean, “Where do we start?”

Fast forward through two of his temples and puzzles and he now stands inside a water temple, the ship near the opening of the cave.

He defeated the boss and opened the chest. He saw a bracelet with what looked like a sapphire embedded on it. It was shiny, maybe made of silver. He could sell this for a good amount of money.

“What is that?” Faro asked beside him.

“You would think that I know?”

“Put it on…?”

Link thought about it for a few seconds before putting it on. Nothing happened. He even felt like the silver and blue didn’t match his darker skin ton. Gold paired with it better.

“So…?”

“Noth-!” Link stood up and grabbed Faro’s hand. They dragged Faro out of the way. Where they stood, a wave of water hit. The splash hit the both of them.

The two of them blinked more times than they could count. “…Did the water just attack us?” Faro asked. Link shrugged.

“The ship.” Link said as they made their way toward the ship.

Link explored this bracelet and found that it was an old relic of the Zora’s. It used to be a Zora heirloom. Did he return it? No. It was a very helpful item. Maybe he’d give it back after his adventure…anyways-

Link’s final fight took place inside Hyrule Castle. His crew stayed at the docks.

Nan decided that she was too old to lead a crew of pirates mid adventure, so she declared that Link was the new Captain.

The king knew that Link was coming, and yet, the king was alone in the throne room. The king laughed, stating that he couldn’t be the hero of he didn’t wield the sword of legend. He said that Link was too scared to touch it because Link knew that he had that same darkness inside him that the sword banished.

In truth, Link drew the sword, he was just better with his usual weapon, which was a double edged staff.

But don’t forget, Link had to go to Gerudo for a temple. They met their sisters and heard the whole story behind his childhood suffering. He knew that all of his problems, all of his trauma, was this king’s fault.

They fought with a straight face the entire time, letting all of that anger and frustration and pain that he held within their twelve year old body out.

He decapitated the king. It was an accident, but it felt so right.

Faro took the throne and left the crew. They were apparently called “Zelda” to the rest of the kingdom.

Link lead his crew through storms and sea monster attacks. Link knew that the crew loved monster hunting, so that’s what they became. His crew became monster hunters who slayed the horrid monsters that threatened the seas that Link called his home. It had been a year since his adventure ended when it happened.

Link stared at the ceiling. It was night, probably midnight. He should be asleep right now. The monster that they had just fought required him to go under water. The Zora bracelet allowed him to breathe underwater as long as he wore it, that wasn’t the problem. It was how much he had used the bracelet to command the water around him. It took a toll on his body. However, it wasn’t a big one, it only made him tired.

He heard a knock on the door before one of his crew mates opened it. It was Jasper, his right hand man. He was on night watch tonight.

“You might wanna see this Capt’n.” Link was on his feet in seconds.

“What is it?”

Link and Jasper stood on the deck. In front of them, on the firm wooden boards was a triangular shape. Link stepped closer to it and walked around it.

“It looks like a portal of some kind…?” Link mumbled to himself. It was a swirl of purple and black. It also blowed an ominous purple. It almost looked like the stereotypical poison.

“That’s what I was thinking.” Jasper said. “It’s been here for quite some time now. What should we do about it?”

“I’m going to go inside of it.” Something was pulling Link toward the portal.

“Wha-“ Jasper sighed. “Okay, just bring weapons and potions with you. You don’t know where it’ll take ya.”

Link chuckled. “I take my staff everywhere I go. Don’t worry about me.”

So, Link gathered his stuff. Potions and their weapons and some spare clothes and stepped through the ominous darkness of the portal.

*Cue Linked Universe*

_______________________________

Pause…I found a picrew with a Gerudo nose and lips?!?!?? You also know that all Links have worn eye liner

The only thing that let me down is that there were no scars…I loved everything else

@cal-the-duende @phthalo-ocorina @mishwanders (:

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe oc #linksona #here’s your infodump (:#SCREAMS FROM THE SHADE

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midorisudachi · 1 year

Text

Several months ago I was feeling nostalgic & played Dragon Age Origins and Dragon Age II again, about a decade after I had first played them. A few weeks I posted my fan art of my OC & Alistair. Now it's time for my Hawke OC & her love interest!

When I had first played DAII, I made Anders my love interest. This time around, I decided to change things up & make my character go for the broody Fenris. It took a lot to get him to slightly warm up to my character (whom I named "Chevaune Hawke), but then there was that sexy scene where Fenris couldn't help himself and he kissed Hawke, and then she returned the kiss by pushing him against the wall. (I never knew she had it in her! Lol!) But after they got intimate, darned Fenris was already getting dressed, so Hawke asked, "Was it that bad?" To which Fenris replied, "I'm sorry. It's not...it was fine. No...that is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed." I got why he was afraid to get close to somebody, so Chevaune & Fenris remained "just friends" (no intimacy" for a few years, but I made my character loyal to him.

Eventually, this conversation happened:

Fenris – “We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago.”

Hawke – “You didn’t want to talk about it.”

Fenris – “I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me. I deserve no less. But it isn’t better. That night… I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me know.”

Hawke – “I need to understand why you left, Fenris.”

Fenris – “I’ve thought about the answer a thousand times. The pain, the memories it brought up, it was too much. I was a coward. If I could go back, I’d stay. Tell you how I felt.”

Hawke – “What would you have said?”

Fenris – “Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you. ”

Hawke – “I understand. I always understood.”

Fenris – “If there is a future to be had, I will walk gladly into it at your side.”

Then they kissed. Awwwww. Ha ha. They had such a complicated relationship but I'm glad my Chevaune Hawke got his heart & affections. Especially at the end, before the final battle...Fenris said, "“I…may not get the chance to say this again. Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Hawke. Promise me you won’t die. I can’t bear the thought of living without you.” Notice how I drew him wearing the Hawke logo at his hip? He eventually wears that in the game after a while.

At one point during the game (before all the final battle/ending stuff), Anders questioned Chevaune, stating that he did get what she saw in Fenris & hinted that she be better with him instead! In fact, all my companions questioned my relationship with Fenris! LOL! Varric once stated, "I haven't told anybody about you and that angsty Trevinter elf." Ha ha! Even Chevaune's grumpy arse uncle (Gamlen) said (in a snarky tone), "So you're into elves now? It takes all kinds of people." Oh, shut up. Ha ha. There was a lot more bantering & conversations, but I'm not going to type them here, because it would take up a lot of space! As it is, I already wrote too much! *Grins*

Drawn with Sakura Pigma Micron pens, then coloured in with a mix of Copic Markers & Ohuhu Markers.

Fan artwork © Jacqueline E. McNeese

Dragon Age II/Fenris/Hawke © Electronic Arts/Bioware

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cyncerity · 1 year

Text

I posted 482 times in 2022

360 posts created (75%)

122 posts reblogged (25%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@cyncerity

@baka-monarch

@pixiethesizeshifter

@dingbatnix

@oh-i-need-a-name

I tagged 456 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#cyncerity - 345 posts

#mcyt gt - 278 posts

#mcyt g/t - 274 posts

#dad’s troubles au - 92 posts

#not g/t - 67 posts

#tw vore - 57 posts

#cyn art - 51 posts

#cynshitpost - 43 posts

#g/t - 29 posts

#store shifter au - 29 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#don’t forget how much you and this community mean to him even now cause i’m damn sure wherever he is he’s watching all this go down hskslsh

My Top Posts in 2022:

this took three days but i’m actually really happy with it? that never happens??

anyway, feel free to send asks for this au, i think by now we know that i’m thinking about it too much, but i hope you like these!

also click for better quality

See the full post

131 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

Steddie stranger things borrower au is all I need and want in my depressing life

just for you 💖

The nickname “big boy” just became twice as flirty jokingly mocking

133 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

this isn’t my usual content but i could not rest until i drew this

this is kinda a “secret world of arriety” type au (if you’ve ever read “the borrower” or “the littles” book series, think of those) but with stranger things!

idk how much i’ll do with the idea cause stranger things isn’t my main hyperfixation, but i’m in love with this idea

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156 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

This was based off of an instagram meme that i think was made for women over the age of 50, but when vore inspiration strikes, you have to do something.

So, here’s this!! I may make this a series, I may not, but it may depend on if y’all even like this story or not lol

so without further ado, here’s some crimeboys noms >:)

tw: kinda implied mentions of neglect/abuse, swearing, and vore

He had to get away. Tommy couldn’t stay another day in this damn house, he felt like he was suffocating. He had to leave, somehow.

All of his things were already packed. The little he had was stored in various bags he had stolen from the attic when the thought of running away had first occurred to him. When he had first realized that he couldn’t stay in this shithole any longer.

Now to think of where. That had been his main concern. Hotels were too expensive, and god knows he didn’t have any friends who would let him stay with them.

Which left him with one option, though he was dreading it.

A few months ago, a new app had been created. A way to book “unique” temporary living arrangements with giants. It was part of some weird initiative to get humans and giants to get along better, and had fully stapled itself to the claims that some humans who lived with giants made about how being eaten could be “relaxing.”

That’s right, as awful an idea as this seemed to Tommy and almost everyone else, there was now a way to book what could qualify as the worlds weirdest airbnb within giants. Literally. Apparently some giants were completely ok with random humans using their organs as a weekend get away, because there were plenty on the app for Tommy to scroll through. And scroll he did.

He had realized a while ago that this may be the cheapest option, and had gone through the website for hours until he had found someone. Early 20s, no criminal record that he could find with a limited google search, good reviews that he could tell were mostly from humans friends that he had, but the man seemed nice enough. He ignored the paranoia that told him that this man was only cheap because he would lure Tommy to his death. That the moment he and Tommy met, it would be over, and he’d be just another missing and forgotten person. Another victim to a random giant where there’d be no proof of his death and nothing to-

No, he couldn’t afford to think like that. This had to work. And, besides, was it really worth still living if he had to be at this house any longer? As much as he hated himself for thinking it, he’d rather let this stranger be the death of him than spend another second with his abusive shit family.

Tommy had messaged him once or twice and had paid him once already just to settle the deal. He ignored the feeling of dread in his gut every time he even thought about the giant, but he couldn’t help but be nervous. After all, this man would be holding his life in him until he got his shit together enough to at least get a job. He didn’t know how long that would be, but he needed to be practically untraceable. He couldn’t risk his family finding him. He couldn’t risk being taken back home.

He sent one final text to the man about where to meet. He knew it was late, but he had warned him in advance that he was probably gonna get a text in the middle of the night, so he slowly crept out of his window and, seeing that the coast was clear, ran, not looking back.

He would never look back.

…

Tommy had arrived at the meetup spot and had been waiting for 30 minutes and, still, no sign of the giant. Ok, now that he thought about it, maybe this did seem a little suspicious. Supposing the giant was a normal ass man, getting a text saying “meet me in an abandoned Tesco parking lot” was a weird thing to receive at 2:45 in the morning. But, again, Tommy was shooting to be untraceable. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing him or his giant. Could he call this stranger “his giant?” Whatever. Tommy knew his family. He didn’t want other people to get hurt, but he couldn’t do this alone. Even if it was a stranger, he needed help.

Tommy just sat and kept thinking, thoughts spiraling into what he would do if the giant never showed up, if he actually had to do this by himself, when the ground began to shake. Tommy quickly stood up and had to strain his neck looking up to see the giant approach. And, holy shit, this fucker was tall.

Tommy had never met a giant before. Hell, almost no humans had. But from what he knew, they shouldn’t be this tall. He felt his knees begin to shake and his palms sweat as he took in the full size and image of the monster that he had hired to eat him. He had fluffy brown hair, wire rimmed glasses and a yellow sweater with a brown puffer jacket on and, weirdly enough, had a mask covering his mouth. He seemed to be hunched over, looking around for what Tommy could only assume to be him, pulling his red-brown beanie further over his head almost nervously. His eyes frantically scanned the empty lot until he found him, where he quickly made his way over as Tommy stumbled back, falling onto the ground and shaking violently from the cold and fear.

“There you are!!” the giant said, “Tommy, right? I’ve been looking all over for you! What were you thinking making this the meetup spot?!”

Tommy could barely speak. It felt like his head had been stuck in a freezer, his throat frozen and his mind muddled and cloudy, unable to form a response. “I-I..it….i- it was c- close…” he whimpered, stumbling back farther. The giant only then seemed to notice Tommy’s fear as he sighed and knelt down, trying to be more eye level as he spoke quieter. “It’s ok, kid. Fuck, you’re younger than I thought you’d be. You mean it’s close to your house, right?” Tommy nodded hesitantly and Wilbur continued. “Thought so. You probably didn’t want to haul your stuff all the way to the giant side. It’s just…i’m not technically allowed to be here.” Tommy looked up at him, confused, his breath slowing and his panic was subsiding now that the giant wasn’t towering over him and scanning the grounds for him like a fucking predator hunting it’s prey. The giant must’ve noticed his confusion, as he continued. “This isn’t a mutual territory. If i get caught here, i could get in a lot of trouble. I tried texting and calling you to tell you, given that humans don’t know a lot about the laws giants have to follow, but you weren’t responding, so i figured i’d just come and make this quick before the cops notice me.” He said. Ah, so that’s what the surgical mask was for. So the cops couldn’t recognize him. He held out a finger to Tommy, and he tried not to think about how this singular finger was taller than his whole body. “I’m Wilbur, by the way, i don’t think i ever introduced myself.” Tommy shuffled closer and grabbed the tip of the finger in an awkward attempt at a handshake. “I-I’m Tommy.”

“As nice as it is to meet you, you seem really nervous. First time?” Tommy nodded again, miraculously feeling less nervous by the second. Something about this guy, maybe his calming voice or how much more human he was than Tommy assumed he’d be, made Tommy trust him.

Or maybe it was the fact that this was the first time in a long time he had been treated with kindness. His family was barely decent to him, so this was a nice change, if an unexpected one.

“First time meeting a giant, actually.” “No offense, I can kind of tell.” Wilbur said, though there was no judgement in his voice. “Y’know, you don’t have to do this now. We could always resched-“ “No!!” Tommy shouted, interrupting the giant. “No, no, I want to, I have to, I’m out of options, please.” At that, Wilbur began to look concerned. “Tommy what do you mean ‘out of options?’ Are you ok? Do you need help?” “This is my help! Sure, maybe I’m a little bit fucking terrified, but i have nowhere else to go. I- I can’t go back, please, please, Wilby.” Tommy finished, the nickname naturally rolling off his tongue like he had known the giant his whole life. Wilbur looked at him with a vague look of concern and pity before bringing one of his giant fingers closer to Tommy’s face. Tommy didn’t even have time to react before it gently swiped across his cheek, wiping away tears he didn’t even know he had shed. “Ok, ok, i’ll help, it’s alright.” He said, giving Tommy a warm smile (he assumed; his eyes scrunched up a little near the outer edges, which seemed like a good sign he was smiling) that only slightly hid the concern still plastered on his face. And though Tommy still couldn’t see most of the aforementioned face, his eyes portrayed everything Tommy needed. Wilbur wore his heart on his sleeve; he liked that.

Tommy could have sobbed in relief as Wilbur’s words fully sunk in. He was going to get away, and the thought of finally being free was enough to drown out any more fears of what was about to happen. Wilbur then reached behind him and grabbed some of his bags, which looked ridiculously minuscule in his hand, as he brought them up to his mouth before pausing. “Do you want to go down first or do you want me to do to do these? For some people, it can be a bit nerve racking to see me swallow something first.” Tommy thought about it, then shook his head. It’s not like he wanted to see his few meager possessions disappear down the throat of a giant, especially knowing he’d have to join them, but he wasn’t gonna chicken out now. He just needed a few seconds to collect himself, and what Wilbur did with his bags in that time was none of his business.

Wilbur calmly lifted the bags back up, all of them at the same time, and slipped them under his mask. Within a few seconds, Tommy saw a vague outline slip down Wilbur’s throat, bobbing his addam’s apple a bit as they descended to where Tommy would be staying for a short while…maybe he should have gone first.

It all reminded him of a nature documentary he had seen on snakes once; he could see the outline of some poor rodent slowly trail down the snake to its final resting place.

Tommy tried not to think about that last part. After all, he’d be fine. He wasn’t prey, not to Wilbur, anyway. To his family…maybe. Not like they mattered anymore, though.

Tommy felt giddy enough at that thought that he stepped forward towards Wilbur as he watched the man press against his midsection gently, presumably to make sure Tommy’s bags had ended up in the right organ. After that confirmation, Wilbur looked back down, setting his hand palm up next to Tommy. “You ready for this, big man?” Tommy grinned at the nickname, at the way Wilbur treated him. Like a person; an equal. He grinned so hard it almost hurt. “Ready as i’ll ever be.”

Tommy felt himself be lifted and watched as Wilbur used his free hand to lift his mask just enough for Tommy to fit under and into his mouth. Tommy quickly found a perch on his lip and tried to climb in the rest of the way himself before realizing holy shit oh prime good fucking god his teeth were sharp. Wilbur made muffled cry of concern as his hand came back up under Tommy as he stumbled a bit. But, after the initial shock of the teeth being way sharper than he thought, Tommy managed to climb in the rest of the way successfully.

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182 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

the last post did so much better than expected! i’m genuinely really surprised, thanks for all the support on my short little shitty comic hsjsksl

Anyway, here’s pt. 2!!

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188 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #THE SHARK TALE AU #OH MY GOD #Also I guess I made more Dad’s Troubles AU content this year than any other au #that’s not surprising at all to me #also kinda embarrassing that the Stranger Things posts are all at the top and then my Stranger Things hyperfixation kinda just…died #sorry #i still like the show a whole lot don’t get me wrong it’s amazing #i’m just way less motivated to make stuff for that than mcyt #and don’t ask me why cause that hyperfixation lasted a month and dsmp is going on 2 years strong #also the longest tag made me a little sad but hey #it still holds true #:)#thanks for a good 2022 everyone #i’ve hit so many milestones and the fact that y’all are here is so just unbelievably amazing #thank you all so so much 💖

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hexpea · 2 years

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Ch. 5 - Just a Bath ⚠️SLIGHT NSFW BELOW⚠️

The night of bowling wound up successful. You actually had some meaningful conversation with Gojo, making some kind of headway in getting closer to him. You connected well with your classmates, as always. And, you managed to get the highest score in the second game which you chalked up to Gojo's training. And you had Geto to thank.

As the six of you exited into the dark, February night, snow began to fall at a rapid and thick pace. You clutched yourself tightly as you trudged through the slush on the sidewalk, falling behind the rest of the group. You could already feel the cold setting in, nose running faster than the snow falling. You worked to hold back a sneeze when Geto turned back to notice you weren't keeping pace, seeing your obvious shivers. Your coat was certainly not enough, especially seeing as thick snow like this in Tokyo wasn't common. When you looked up after holding back that sneeze you noticed Geto with a cupped palm over an intently listening Gojo as the pair walked ahead of you toward the station.

Gojo laughed as Geto came away. "What about yours?" He asked, with a grin.

"Not thick enough," Geto said quickly, eyes darting back to your suspicious facial expression.

Gojo then rolled his eyes and halted his steps to remove his coat. Geto also lingered as Nanami, Haibara, and Ijichi walked on.

"Here, Y/N," Gojo said as he walked behind you, placing his coat over your shoulders. "You look like you're freezing."

"Thanks," your face already blushed from the cold. You couldn't believe how well Geto was doing at setting up small moments for you two to share. It no longer felt impossible for you two to become a match.

Gojo stayed by your side as the three of you made your way home, far behind your classmates. You had never felt this type of contentment before. Just a few months ago you considered yourself completely unworthy of Gojo's attention. In a matter of just a few, small events, that thought changed completely. Geto had made things in your life a bit brighter. He helped you become a little more hopeful and a little more confident. Even though it was just a little win, it was a win nonetheless.

Gojo and Geto retired to their own apartments on-campus after dropping you off in front of your dorm. As soon as you got out of your coat, you could feel the ache in your bones. It didn't take much for you to get sick. In fact, there were times it was entirely predictable. And it always happened quickly.

When you were finally settled, you grabbed your things and headed off to the bathroom. Your mind was in a haze as you drew the bathwater and got undressed. Warm thoughts crept in your mind as the room filled with wet steam. As soon as you dipped your toes into the water, you melted physically and mentally. The hot water was deep enough to reach your chin as you leaned back on the porcelain. Despite the sickness settling in, you felt so good. Your nerves were still tingling from his touch, the feeling of individual fingertips placed ever so gently to properly position you in front of the bowling lane. You let yourself give out an excited squeal from under the water as memories stimulated your senses. He was just a man, but Gojo Satoru was going to be your man. You just knew it. And how lucky were you to have his best friend helping you?!

Your own fingertips began to wander down your soft flesh at the tingling sensation of those memories. The warm touch was softened even further from the resistance of the water. Your nerves were more heightened than usual with the thought of your blue-eyed angel. The thought of his dumb, smiling face made your heart race. Your mind perfectly recreated the image of his face, his scent, his careful voice. The daydream came easy, almost as easy as easy as you came with the mere thought of the strongest.

You continued to relax in the tub, post-pleasure, to allow the heat to clear your nose which you noticed was quickly becoming stuffy. What interrupted your moments of peace was your cell phone vibrating against the tile floor. Uncomfortably, you leaned over and slid the bar on the touchscreen, answering the phone call.

"Hello?" You answered, making sure to sound a little bit irritated with the disturbance. You hoped the echoing sound of your voice would be telling enough to get the person on the other line to speak quickly - or even decide to call back later.

"Wow, you sound congested," Geto's shit-eating giggle sounded over the phone. You somehow weren't surprised it was him. And, honestly, you slightly welcomed it. You knew he'd want to talk about the night - keeping the memories you adored fresh in your brain.

"What do you want, Suguru?" There was no need to pretend with Geto on the other end.

"Didn't know we were on a first-name basis, either," he chuckled, "I wanted to check-in to see how you felt about the date. I need some feedback from my work."

"Oh..." The nerves set in again. This was what you wanted out of this conversation, but... To actually vocalize your thoughts of what you were feeling while Gojo was holding you was one thing. Saying them to his best friend was a second. "It was great."

"Great? That's it?" He playfully scoffed. "I thought we did pretty well. He got pretty handsy, didn't he? I bet you had some goosebumps under that sweater of yours. It's almost like he knew what we were up to."

"Sure," you mumbled with a shaky voice, trying to keep the excitement in your chest at bay. The feeling that you thought you had vanquished moments ago had quickly returned - this time almost insatiable.

"I mean, I know you want something more long-term, but physical attraction's the first step, right?" Geto offered as you squeezed your legs tight in an attempt to quietly keep the feelings at bay. His tone was teasing, forcing the images flashing in your mind to grow even more vivid than they were before.

"Yep," you answered shortly, the nerves obvious in your voice. Your hand traveled between your legs, another attempt to satiate the desperate tone that could come across if you let out anything more than one word at a time.

There was a moment of silence on the other line, as if Geto was connecting some dots. "And the coat thing!" The subject had quickly changed. "That was my idea, pretty good, huh?" You could tell he was feeling a bit awkward by his shift in tone. "I'll try and think of more of those little, cute scenarios for you two. Though...I am a guy. I'm not that creative, might need your help."

"Yep, uh huh," you noted, pressing your fingertips further until you were successfully drawing delicate circles around your clit. Before you could say anything else, you had to swallow down a desperate vocalization. It was at this point, your fogged-over brain made the decision that there was no turning back. "Thank you," the expression of gratitude came out more like something more twisted.

"Um..." Geto trailed off in thought, trying to think of what could clear the air and not only disperse the tension but also keep his thoughts straight. "What do you think we should do next? Any suggestions?" For whatever reason, neither of you thought of appropriately hanging up.

"Well, I'm...going to be graduating...in a few weeks," you struggled to get out without pauses. Your neck arched against the back of the tub as you steadied yourself close to orgasm. "Does that give you any...good...ideas?"

"Right! That'll be a good opportunity," he agreed smoothly. "We'll take that to our advantage. And your parents will be coming, too, right? A good time for him to make a good first impression."

"S-sure," you obviously whimpered against his teasing tone. "And...it's just...my mom." Mentioning that was a bit of a mood killer, so as soon as you got that out - you tried to wipe the slate clean by bringing back the image of Gojo's cheeky smile.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" He finally decided to ask. "I mean, I can tell you're congested, but are you in pain or something?"

"No," you answered, once again shortly. "Listen, I...gotta' go," you requested urgently as the tingles began to invade your lower body.

"Are you hurt?" He asked with a more serious tone with genuine concern.

"No!" You growled and hung up the phone. "Goddammit!" Letting the device hit the tiles, you began to pump yourself furiously in an attempt to reach your second high. The images you wanted in your brain weren't there, this time it was just lust and natural instinct to reach climax. "Sugu!" You cried out, but quickly quieted down as soon as you realized what came out of your mouth.

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greywaysart · 1 year

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Okay so, technically this one should have gone with the previous post as like, this series of images that just don't belong in their own post.

But also, consider:

I love my phoenix soul sorcerer daughter.

Her name is Arista and this is the first drawing I did of her. I need to draw her again some time (I drew her once after this) and maybe nail down her clothing a little more.

Arista is a Haunted One background Phoenix Soul Sorcerer. She was born as Agata Duricz to, oh, just the most famous assassin in the region, the legendary The Raven's Talon and an equally as famous hero adventurer who sooort of didn't know he was, you know, Lawful Evil. Oh and her dad Soooooort of made off with her in the night while her mom was cleaning up the mess he'd made of the guy she'd been hired to protect. It's fine! It's great! It's okay! This has no consequences whatsoever!

(There were consequences, my friends.)

While her father was an infamous assassin, he had different desires for her. He used his connections to the upper crust to get her the best a commoner child could get: Good education, a stable upbringing, healthy food.

And, once she'd set her nursery on fire with her budding magic, the best tutor in the city he'd fled to all those years ago. A lord or lady's hired sorcerer was his desired outcome for her.

With the fortune he'd amassed over the years he even had a large amount of time to spend with her, to instill morals into her that he never really found time to follow for himself.

And. Well. I'll let her character sheet say the rest:

A future life as the hired sorcerer to a lord or lady was not to be however, as she was abducted by the cult of [Talk To DM] at the age of eight. The cult saw in her (they thought) the signs of their hidden master, a forbidden deity of flames locked away since time immemorial. They thought she was their chosen one. Agata was taught to embrace the flames, an easy task to give a child who would set things alight for the delight of it, training her to give into destructive whims.

All was going according to their plans until they saw fit to have her take part in a sacrifice, to set ablaze the pyre upon which a 'traitor' pleaded for their life. Rather than fear or joy at the action, Agata felt unease. Her father had impressed upon her that taking a life, while necessary, was not something to be done for the sake of amusement, a sentiment echoed by her tutor. After much thought she came to realise that by killing someone, you took away someone else's father, or tutor, or important person.

Empathy may not have been her favourite discovery in life, but it lead to her keeping her head even as the cult tried (and in some cases, succeeded) to twist her into something unrecognisable. It led to her understanding that what they were trying to unleash was awful, far worse than she'd imagined.

After months and months of preparation, Agata left the cult behind in flames, praying every soul perished so their dirty work couldn't be continued, but not staying around long enough to find out.

In the three years since, she has come to the name Arista, changed her appearance wildly, and traveled far from both home and where she started, all in service of a new life. A life without the expectations of housing a dark god."

So anyway she's loosely based off of ANOTHER one of my OCs (the cult background, yep. She and Ruby share a background) put into a D&D setting and I love her.

Oh, and, the phonix soul thing?

See, before her mom realised she was pregnant, she saved a phoenix, but died in the process. The phoenix revived her (and her child with her) and whoops that's a magic baby, folks!

Anyway I have yet to play her in a game but I love her. I partially love that she both does not know how to be a normal person (and thus became an adventurer) but also REALLY wants to not be found, two traits that ultimately conflict with each other.

#dungeons and dragons #D&D #Sorcerer #phoenix soul sorcerer #oc #my oc #OC: Arista Palicz #My art

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eddiesblklvr · 2 years

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BABY ON TOUR. | HARRY STYLES

SUMMARY: “Hello 👋🏾👋🏾 I need more of harry x neveah like i love them! Maybe her being pregnant or harry and neveah getting married. Or more ig post you choose. Thankss”

WARNINGS: pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, mentions of food, talks of unprotected sex,

a/n: nothing but love ALSO italics = flashbacks also you can read more blurbs here and my masterlist as well! <3

love on tour, the one thing harry has been dying to do. harry and the band were now a week into tour and neveah had a huge surprise for him.

she wanted to tell him straight away, but neveah loved surprises (almost as much as she loved getting told about them) and she wanted him to remember and love the way he found out about their baby.

for a few weeks, neveah has been feeling awful. when she woke up she immediately felt the urge to throw up, some of her favorite foods were starting to smell terrible and make her sick, little things pissed her off to an extreme, she had to use the bathroom a lot, and her period was late.

she knew what was happening, she’d never missed her period, but she wasn’t surprised. about a month ago, she and harry had decided that they wanted to start trying for a baby, so they stopped using all forms of protection. they didn’t make it their top priority or constantly take pregnancy tests, just incase it didn’t happen and they weren’t as disappointed when it didn’t.

neveah calmly searched through the cabinets in their bathroom and pulled out a few pregnancy tests that they bought when they’d first started trying.

harry was off at the grocery store, getting their favorite snacks and foods that they liked.

she took the pregnancy test and sat them down on the counter, keeping herself busy by tidying the room a bit for the five minute wait. she made the bed, picked up the few articles of clothing off of the floor, and took the few cups on the nightstands downstairs to the kitchen.

once the timer on her phone went off, she walked back inside the bathroom and looked at the tests, all three being positive. despite already knowing she was pregnant, tears welled in her eyes and a smile creeps onto her lips.

she didn’t get to dwell on how she’d tell harry because she heard the front door open and harry’s voice call out to her, “love?” she quickly hid them in a place where she knew harry wouldn’t look, mentally reminding herself to throw them away when she had the chance, before making her way down the stairs.

harry looked behind him when he heard the floorboard creaking, seeing his wife walking towards him, “i got those chips you like and th—”

he was cut off by her hand resting on the back of his head and her lips connecting to his. he quickly responded, letting his hand tug her body closer before he trails it down to grip her ass.

“harry,” neveah giggled as she pulled away, watching as he chased after her.

harry grunted while he rubs over her butt and occasionally pats it, “hm?”

“why do you al feel the need to touch my ass?” she asks him the same question all the time, and every time, his eyes always light up when he answers it.

“have you seen it? oh god, it’s incredible! i love it, it fits perfectly in my hands, and it’s soft, and it looks nice in pants and leggings and anything else,” he pauses pouting his lips as he raises his brows, “or nothing. it just looks and feels so amazing.”

“aw, i could say the same about your tits.” neveah pecks his lips, listening as a low laugh rumbles in his chest.

neveah absolutely loved watching harry perform. she loved the smile he had on his face, how energetic he was, how overall happy he looked to be on stage.

she couldn’t be with him for the first week, but she found time out of her job and she wanted to surprise him on tour — in more ways than one.

she flew out to nashville two days prior to harry’s concert, getting everything ready for the show. she had a poster and written in large, dark colors was “baby styles 2022!”. she drew tiny flowers around it and even sketched a picture of a pregnant woman underneath.

she was very nervous on the day of the nashville concert, not knowing if she should wear what she picked out, how he’d react with the way she tells him. she’d already got dressed and put her makeup on, completing her look with her nose ring, multiple earrings and rings, as well as the necklace harry bought her. she had her lanyard with her backstage pass on it, even though harry has probably already shown her picture everywhere to let everyone know who she is just incase she came.

it was halfway through the concert when harry began to read signs and talk to the crowd a little more. he hadn’t noticed her at all so far, which was a good thing.

when she saw that he was closer to her side, she lifts the sign above her head. it wasn’t a huge sign, but it was big enough for him to notice it. she smiles when he glances at the sign, and it only grew when he did a double take. he looks down and notices that it was neveah.

harry blows her a kiss as his cheeks grow a bright red color. he lifts the mic to his lips, “we have a special — very special guest here tonight,” he starts, looking around the arena with a smirk, “my lovely wife, neveah!”

he smiles as the crowd cheers for her, waiting for the noise to die down so that he could continue. he tries his hardest not to read her sign but—

“baby,” harry says timidly, looking as if he’s in a state of shock, repeatedly reading the words over and over again, “are you serious?” his eyesight begins to blur as the tears start to build up in his waterline. he can’t see, but she’s smiling widely under her mask, nodding her head as the answer to his question.

“are you really? you’re really pregnant?” harry’s voice cracks at the end of his question, he can barley hear how loud the crowd had gotten. he places his microphone on the mic stand and walks down the stairs of the stage, eagerly searching for his (now pregnant) wife. his face is wet from tears, but he doesn’t care, he just wants his wife.

neveah drops the sign on the floor and runs to met him half way, tightly wrapping her arms around his neck. he hides his face in the crook of her neck as he sobs, rubbing his hands over her waist and hips. he lifts his head once he finally has control over his emotions, and places kiss after kiss on her temple. “i love you. thank you, thank you so much.”

for the rest of the night, harry has the widest and most genuine grin on his face. the crowd can feel his happiness radiate off of him and onto them. it’s arguable, but it’s the greatest harry’s ever performed.

all because he’s going to be a father.

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featherymalignancy · 3 years

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How About a Hug, Hm? REMIX

So a few days ago I got this ask about my Elriel one-shot “How About A Hug?” because I messed up the formatting and I you basically have to to read it as a reblog. I also was really unsatisfied with the end result.

So, I did the most Feathery™️ thing every and REWROTE THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING.

Please enjoy, and know that I will go back and tag people/clean up formatting tomorrow. Right now I just need to post and 😴

——————————————————

Elain Archeron was running late.

Granted, it was only by seven minutes, which—in many social circles—was still considered well within the accepted boundaries of punctuality.

The problem was that a) being late made Elain anxious, and b) there was absolutely nothing polite about Nesta Archeron when she was made to wait, even by her own kin.

Yet another reason it had been critical that Elain arrive on time: Nesta was already likely to be somewhat hacked off when she saw what Elain was wearing tonight, and Elain had hoped to avoid any further dramatics on her elder sister’s part.

She spent half the cab ride downtown trying to convince herself that it was fine that she’d borrowed something out of Nesta’s closet (even if it had been without permission) and that she hadn’t had a choice; she simply didn’t own anything appropriate for dinner at a four-star restaurant. However, by the time the cab slithered under Trump Tower’s unsavory shadow and into Hell’s Kitchen, she’d given up pretending.

The truth was she had half a dozen cocktail dresses that would have been perfectly suitable for dinner in the West Village, even if the place they were going was one of the nicest sushi restaurants in the city. No, Elain had raided Nesta’s closet for a far more embarrassing reason: she’d been in search of a dress she hoped might finally win her Azriel’s attention.

She wasn’t proud of the absurd crush she had on the guy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was gorgeous, and smart, and darkly funny when he wanted to be, and she’d been secretly mooning over him since they’d met through Feyre’s fiancée three years ago. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him return even a fraction of her feelings.

Apparently not her dignity, Elain thought with a glance down at her neckline.

The worst part was that Azriel seemed oblivious to her interest in him. He was always polite to her, always made a point to talk to her when he caught her hiding out on the balcony during one of Feyre and Rhys’s crazy parties or sit next to her at their big family dinners, but he’d never once given her any indication that he was in any way that he reciprocated her feelings, which should have been reason enough for Elain to pack it in and stop harassing him.

And that was to say nothing of Mor.

Mor was the friend who’d first introduced Feyre and Rhys, and from what Elain could gather, she and Azriel had a long and complicated history. It didn’t seem to matter that Mor had been dating the same girl for over a year now. When she was in the room, Az’s eyes were always on her. Not that Elain blamed him—Mor was gorgeous in a way girls like her could only dream of being. Still, there was no denying the sting of watching the guy you were interested in pine over someone else.

Given all this, Elain wasn’t really sure why she’d gone to such lengths to dress up for this dinner. Mor would surely be there wearing something incredible and couture, thereby rendering everyone else invisible to Azriel. Still, Elain was a hopeless optimist, and she’d stubbornly sold herself on the idea that if she found the perfect dress, she could finally convince Azriel that she was a woman worthy of affection, rather than Nesta’s bookish, boring little sister.

She had to admit, there was nothing bookish about her tonight. The dress was tighter on her that it was her waifish sister, and dear god it deserved a Medal of Honor for the way it managed to keep her boobs looking so perky even without a bra. She didn’t suppose Nesta would be too happy about that bit, either, so she could only hope her sister was in a good mood by the time Elain arrived.

Just then Elain’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it and groaned. It was from Nesta.

Where the 🤬 are you?

Running late, Elain quickly typed back. Is everyone waiting?

She watched the gray ellipsis pulse at Nesta responded.

Feyre and Rhys aren’t even fucking here yet. But hurry up, Cash is already driving me insane.

Elain rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Nesta thought she was fooling when she and Elain shared a bedroom wall. Nesta and Cassian, Rhys’s other best friend, ended up banging almost every time they saw each other, which—since Rhys and Feyre had gotten engaged four months ago—was fairly frequently. In fact, Cash was at their apartment making Nesta scream so often that Elain had been forced to invest in earplugs and a sound machine. From Elain’s perspective, it seemed rather pointless of Nesta to pretend she wasn’t completely hot of a guy she called “Daddy” in bed.

Elain shuddered at the thought, hoping that Nesta would end up going to Cash and Az’s loft in Williamsburg tonight instead. Though, she realized glumly, they only ever seemed to go there when Azriel was out, and the only person who seemed able to keep Azriel out later than Cash was Mor. That meant Elain’s options were either to pop an Ambien and hope for the best, or stay out and watch Az make moon eyes at Mor all night. Neither one was particularly appearing.

Elain ignored Nesta’s text as the car pulled up outside the restaurant and she wiggled out, smoothing the back of her tight dress before giving her curls what she hoped was an artful tousle before slipping inside.

Elain’s heart felt into her stomach as she took in the elegant but understated interior of the famed Sushi Nakazawa. Given the prices, she’d assumed the place would be all black granite and swanky chandeliers—the kind of place cleavage like hers wouldn’t seem out of place. Instead the place was elegantly spare and distressingly well-lit. God, she was such a prize idiot.

Unfortunately, she was also out of time, because a quick survey of the interior found that her group was already gathered at the bar, Mor, Feyre, and Rhys having showed up in the interim between Nesta’s text and Elain’s arrival.

Elain’s eyes went to Mor first, who stunned in a cardinal red lace and net sheath. It clung to her frame like it had been made for her, and despite a latent jealous she couldn’t quite contain, she was relieved to find that she at least wouldn’t look overdressed.

Elain’s stomach only wended in a tighter knot when Mor’s eyes fell on her and lit up, a reminder that not only was Mor prettier, she was also an infinitely better person than Elain.

“There she is!” Mor beamed, coming forward and hugging Elain. “I love that dress, Ellie!”

Elain braced herself for Nesta’s inevitably remark, but it was actually Cash who reacted first.

He’d opened his mouth to comment seemingly before he’d actually looked at Elain, because the second he realized what exactly she was wearing, his eyes they snapped the ceiling, as if looking at her chest directly might turn him to stone.

“Whoa, El, all dressed up tonight!”

Nesta, wholly unmoved by his attempted chivalry, elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t be vulgar Cassian!” She snarled before narrowing her eyes. “And that’s mine!”

Cash smirked, seeming more at ease now that Nesta was his target.

“I knew I’d seen that bef—ow! Goddamnit woman, what was that for?”

He scowled down at the dangerous stiletto Nesta had just jammed into his toe box.

“Sorry,” she cast over her shoulder, not deigning to look at him. “Did I accidentally step on your foot?”

“I’m an adult,” Elain interjected, cheeks burning as she faced her sister down. “Stop acting like I’ve fourteen and stuffing my bra.”

“They’re just boobs, Nes,” Rhys added, arm slung over Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax.”

“Watch it,” Nesta warned him, but Feyre only laughed.

“I agree!” She said, turning to smile at Elain. “And I think they look amazing.”

“If I’d have known they were going to be such a topic of conversation,” Elain mumbled, grateful Azriel wasn’t here to witness this circus. “I would have worn something else.”

“No, I’m with Feyre,” Mor said, wicked grin forming. “Breasts that nice deserve to be shown off.”

Elain wasn’t so humble that she didn’t feel herself preening a bit at that comment, even if she was still flustered by the prolonged attention. Either way, she was grateful when Cash interrupted with a somewhat sheepish laugh.

“Teenage me would be furious if he heard me say this, but can we please stop talking about boobs?”

“Elain’s boobs or just any boobs?” Feyre said with a smirk.

However, before Elain could admonish her for it, Feyre was crushing her into a hug.

“Hey you,” she said, wrapping her arms and Elain’s neck and whispering in her ear, “let me and Rhys know if you wanna stay at our place tonight; Cash already grabbed Nesta’s ass twice when she thought we weren’t looking.”

Feyre indicated the mirror behind the bar with her eyes as they pulled away, and sure enough, Elain watched Cash’s hand as it drew lazy, dangerous circles just above the swell of Nesta’s well-formed behind.

Elain groaned, hugging Rhys now as well. God , her sister was such a hypocrite sometimes.

Ignoring a lingering twinge of annoyance, Elain forced herself to glance in false realization before casually asking, “So where’s the Birthday Boy?”

“He was on his phone out back,” Rhys said, before raising a hand in greeting to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Elain tried not to look to eager as she turned and drank in all six feet four inches of perfection that was Azriel Macar. He was dressed all in black, from his prada boots to the soft, expensive t-shirt fitted enough to show off his toned physique. Elain honestly had to fight not to swoon as he ran an effortless hand through his glossy sable hair, the longer pomaded pieces on top stand up for a second before falling into an artful tousle.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, gaze on her and gone so quickly that he never even had time to notice her much-discussed cleavage. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mor and held for a long, meaningful beat before he turned back to Elain and added politely, “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” she chirped, trying to ignore the fact that he was coming closer, and that in another second she’d be able to smell that divine Givenchy cologne he always wore. “Of course!“

She bent her head, pretending to be fixing the clasp on her bracelet as his scent hit her and she had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus, he smelled good. When she looked up again, everyone else was shuffling to their table and Azriel was lingering, a soft smile threatening to the reveal the absolutely devastating dimples in both his cheeks.

“Do I get a hug?” He asked. “It is my birthday after all.”

He extended his arms, and she gave a nervous laugh, accepting the gesture by stringing her arms around his neck.

“Of course,” she repeated stupidly, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he embraced her. “Happy Birthday.”

At this he squeezed her a little tighter and she fought off genuine giddiness.

It was a friendly gesture, she warned herself, and it ended the minute Mor called, “Az, come sit by me.”

Elain cleared her throat as he pulled away, turning to where Mor was still beckoning. However, before Elain could get too flustered, he turned back to her.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Elain go ahead of him. To her delight, they reached the table to find that the only two seats left were next to each other. She tried not to give her eagerness too much leash as he pulled out her chair for her before sinking into the one between she and Mor. Mor leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he flushed.

“Where’s Emmy tonight?” Feyre asked as Mor tried to wipe the lipstick from Az’s copper skin and he battered her away, like child trying to fend off an over-bearing mother.

“She’s sick, poor little thing,” Mor said, giving a tiny pout. “She hasn’t been able to get out of bed in days.”

Elain didn’t bother to her disappointment. Emerie had been one of Nesta’s best since they’d met in college almost ten years ago, and she not only was she like family to the Archerons, she also happened to be the only person in the group who knew about Elain’s crush. Elain had sworn her to secrecy at the time, and though it would have been reasonable to assume that once Emmy knew, Mor would know, Elain appreciated that she could trust Emerie to keep her secret.

Elain felt Emerie’s absence keenly and Nesta and Cash began bantering back and forth at lightning speed. Emerie was a master at slowing the tempo of Nesta’s quick wit, making it easier for Elain in particular to feel she could keep up.

More selfishly, Elain also missed Emerie’s ability to keep Mor distracted. When Emmy was around, she was all Mor could focus on. However, in her absence Mor’s attention had reverted almost completely to Az, a fact he didn’t seemed to mind a single bit, if his growing smiles were any indication.

Still, he seemed to be going out of his way to make sure Elain didn’t get lost in the chaos of conversation surging around them, even if he never looked at her for more than a moment or two before his eyes flicked back to Mor, studying her dark brown eyes and crimson lips.

After they placed their drink orders and the waiter came over to begin explaining the omakase menu, Elain wondered if she had time to dodge under the table to throw on some lipstick of her own. Assuring herself everyone was suitably distracted she bent down, hastily uncapping the tube before looking up just in time to see Nesta brush a very deliberate hand between Cassian’s splayed quads.

Elain jerked back, banging her head on the table.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly, straightening and rubbing her head.

Nesta shot her an alarmed look across the table and Elain flushed.

“All you alright?” Azriel asked, and she tried not to bleat in excited panic as his fingers brushed the back of her head. “What happened?”

“I—dropped something,” she fumbled, cursing her sister for being such a salacious wench.

Wasn’t it enough that she and Cash were already going to keep her up all night? Did she really have to make Elain look silly in front of Azriel, too?

“Does it hurt?” Azriel said, still studying her head before letting his eyes go to the server. “Do you need ice?”

“No, no,” Elain said hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“Did you at least find whatever you were looking for?” Mor asked, and Elain’s flush deepened.

“And then some,” she grumbled to herself, and Cassian gave a quiet but unmistakable laugh before letting out a surprised exhale. Elain had a fairly good idea what Nesta was squeezing to shut him up.

“Should we order, then?” Mor asked, hand falling onto Azriel’s arm. “Any particular requests, Birthday Boy?”

“He’s thirty now,” Rhys pointed out. “I think that makes him a Birthday Man .”

“Birthday Old Man,” Cassian amended. “Don’t worry champ, I’ve already put some viagra in your bathroom.”

“You’re not supposed to share your prescriptions, Cash,” Azriel said with mirth, eyes sparkling even as his face remained neutral. “And besides, I would feel dead back if you needed one tonight and couldn’t find them.”

“Checkmate,” Mor purred as Cash flipped her off.

Beside Azriel, Elain was fighting not to blush again. Cash’s comment, however sophomoric and lewd, had her imagining what Azriel was like in bed. She wondered for a moment if Mor knew before dismissing the thought and the twinge it induced.

“Let’s put this poor souls out of his misery and order,” Feyre said, smiling at the server where he still waited patiently. “Maybe if Cash’s mouth is full, he’ll stop talking.”

Cassian grinned, and, after placing their requests for the chef’s tasting menu, they all settled into an easy conversation. Cash and Rhys regaled them with stories of Azriel at various ages, from the gawky child he’d been when they’d first met him to the shy teenager who’d been terrified of girls.

“Let him be,” Mor said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “He was sweet in high school!”

Rhys laughed.

“It took him a year to pluck up the courage to say three words to you,” he pointed out.

“And they were ‘here’s a pen’ in response to you asking him the time. Nice work, Shakespeare,” Cash said, attempting to muss Azriel’s perfectly styled hair before being batted away.

“I can’t imagine Az ever being awkward,” Elain blurted. “I bet girls thought he was mysterious and cool.“

“See?” Azriel said, gesturing to Elain. “This is why I sat over here.”

“Oh please ,” Rhys said, bubbling his lips. “Ellie’s just being polite. If you two had known each other in high school, we all know how to would’ve gone: you’d have had an obscene crush on her and your dreams of true love would have been dashed after she politely signed your yearbook ‘have a good summer, Adrian’, leaving you heartbroken and alone.”

Azriel gave Elain a soft smile, and her heart burst open as thousands of butterflies flitted out of it.

“I hate to say it, but he’s probably right,” he told her. “I assume high school Elain was very popular.”

“She was,” Feyre said. “Eight different guys asked her to prom.”

“I’m not surprised,” Az said, and Elain made a great show out of drinking out of her masu to avoid having to answer.

She was relieved when the food began arriving to distract everyone, if only to save her the temptation of telling Azriel that there was no universe in which she wouldn’t have been into him, high schoolers or no.

Instead discussion turned to the Feyre and Rhys’s wedding as they ate, and as final plates were being cleared, Cash took the opportunity to once again mocked Azriel for the fact the latter had lost the rock-paper-scissors competition to be Rhys’s best man.

“I lost on purpose,” he told Elain quietly, taking a sip of the Yamasaki Single Malt he’d ordered after dinner.

“Why?” she laughed, following his gaze across the table to where Cash and Nesta were now bickering about whether Rhys’s stag night in Vegas would be better than Feyre’s hen do in Napa.

“Because Rhys told me that you’d convinced Feyre to pick Nesta as her maid of honor, and no offense, but your sister terrifies me. I’d much rather be with you.”

She laughed, biting her lip. It felt so terribly like they were flirting, but she couldn’t decide if it was her imagination or not.

“She terrifies everyone,” Elain said. “And I have a feeling this won’t our last trip down the aisle together.”

Azriel only quirked a bemused brow at this, which had Elain flushing scarlet.

“Not like that! She laughed, fumbling to pretend the idea of them being together was absurd rather than her heart’s desire. "I meant for Cash and Nesta’s wedding. Don’t tell me those two aren’t going to end up together.”

“We’ll have to work out a custody agreement when they finally get over themselves and start dating properly,” he agreed. “I’m spending a fortune on earplugs.”

She laughed, and he seemed warmed by the gesture, because he flashed a modest—albeit dimpled—smile being turning back to the larger conversation.

After dinner they’d gone a cocktail bar, then an Irish pub, and finally—much to Azriel’s chagrin—a karaoke bar. Rhys and Cash spend the majority of the evening trying to wrestle Azriel on stage while Mor and Feyre sang duets to Beyoncé and Spice Girls.

Elain was content enough to sit back and simply observe the scene as it unfolded around her. It was hard to contain her giddy, dreadful anticipation when Mor left around one to check on Emerie and Azriel—besides bidding her farewell with a soft kiss on the cheek—didn’t move a muscle.

Less than an hour later, Cash and Nesta both disappeared about an hour after without so much as a goodbye. Elain groaned, hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got home.

She’d have to rally if she wanted to manage it; they would be at it for hours yet.

By three the place was clearing out, and besides them, only a few tables of marathon drinkers and a girl on stage performing a beautiful rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” remained.

“We’re gonna go,” Rhys said, arm slung around a rather drunk, giggling Feyre. “Ellie, do you want to come with us?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, who’s glass still had two fingers of whiskey in it. If she wanted a chance to be alone with him, this was it.

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” she said, smiling.

“If you mean drink, I’m in,” Azriel said.

“Oh c’mon, brother,” Rhys goaded. “Just one song. I wouldn’t even film it….much.”

“Do Beyoncé!” Feyre chimed in, and Azriel shook his head.

“You know I’d play in traffic before I ever sang karaoke,” Azriel said mildly, making Feyre laugh. "Thanks for coming.”

He rose, embracing Rhys and pressing a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“C’mon, my little drunkard,” Rhys told her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let’s have sex when we get home,” Feyre said, her attempted whisper fully audible. Rhys pretended smack his forehead with his palm and a mimed, “ Oh brother ”, to Azriel and Elain before coax a still-singing Feyre outside.

Azriel chuckled before draining the last of his drink and rising. Elain pretended not to notice the way his well-tailored jeans fit his lean legs and…other parts of his anatomy as he adjusted his belt buckle and glanced down at her.

“Bud Light?” he asked, and she nodded, bobbing to her feet as well.

If she wanted a way to get closer to him that was more elegant than her increasing urge to crawl across the table and into his lap, this was certainly it.

“I’ll come with you.”

He flashed her a modest smile before indicating she lead the way. He ordered and waved off Elain’s attempt to pay before leaning on the bar to avoid towering over her. The gesture brought them nearly eye-to-eye, and Elain had to actively fight not to let hers roll back in pleasure at the bergamot and amyris wood notes in his sinful cologne. Up close Elain could see how much green he had in his hazel irises, and she wanted to tip into them and swim until she drowned.

“Did you have fun?” she said, desperate to get the conversation flowing again, and he smiled, making her stomach flop.

“I did, yeah,” he said, glancing around the bar in bemusement, as if still wondering how he’d ended up there. “Thank you for coming.”

Elain shrugged, grinning.

“You say that like you didn’t think I’d show,” she said, resting a cheek in her hand. She knew by now her expression was not her less than a swoon, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been this been her plan all along? Finally get Az’s attention long enough to tell him how she felt? Now was the best chance she’d probably ever get.

“No, I figured would,” Az said, interrupting her reverie. “Or hoped you would, whatever.”

Was that—

Did that mean what she thought it did?

Normally she would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, dimples appearing as he huffed what almost sound like a sheepish laugh, had hope igniting in her chest.

“What does that mean?” she pressed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

For the first time all night, he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes skated back and forth across her face, as if she were a riddle he only had seconds to memorize. She watched, transfixed, as he wet his plush lower lip with his tongue before biting it almost self-consciously.

“It means I’m glad you came,” he admitted. “And that you didn’t go home with your sister and Rhys.”

It wasn’t the confirmation she’d been hoping for, and the ambiguity of the statement had her conviction waning. That could just as easily have been mean platonically, and if she pushed him and ruined things between them by making it awkward—

“Of course I’d be here for your birthday,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “That’s what friends are for.”

She couldn’t help the way her voice got stuck on the word, not when her throat suddenly began to clog with tears.

She had to get out of here, right now. Before she started crying and made things worse. She made to retract her hand but Azriel grabbed it, grip gentle but intent.

“El, don’t go,” he said, and she was surprised at the frank discontent in his normally-impassive expression.

She waited for him to explain himself before instead he let out another strained laugh, grip on her wrist easing. However, he didn’t let go entirely, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead.

Holding hands.

She and Az were holding hands.

And he—

She glanced back up to find he was studying her again, his face a mixture of terror and delight. When she gave his hand a soft squeeze, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus, I am bad at this,” he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she thought his gaze flicked down to her lips as he continued to study her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Bad at what?” She asked, though she’d begun to suspect she knew exactly what, even if it seemed too good to be true.

“At least my timeline is improving,” he breathed instead. “And I haven’t offered you a pen you didn’t ask for yet.”

Hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation, she let her finger trail down to trace the circular buckle of his Gucci before glancing back up at him and purring, “Do you have a pen?”

He smirked before raising his right wrist and glancing at his watch face over her shoulder.

“It’s….3:17 am,” he said, smile spreading as she gave a low sound of approval and flicked her gaze to his lips.

“Smooth,” she said, and tried not to lose her mind as he let his raised hand fall to the back of her neck and bent to kiss her.

He had almost girlishly full lips, and they opened for her as they settled into the kiss. Immediately his hand tangled in her hair so he could alter her head position slightly and get a proper taste of her. She groaned into his mouth he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth. He tasted like oranges and the expensive Japanese whiskey he’d been drinking all night, and pleasure tightened in her low belly as his tongue brushed hers. Her brought his free hand up to cradle her face, and in response she pushed closer to run her hands underneath of his shirt and down the silken skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a heated half-laugh, nose brushing her cheek as he bowed into her touch. “You’re killing me, woman.”

She only smirked, feeling more confident now that she had before. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was too excited about it to fully care.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he bit his lip, as if restraining himself from kissing her again.

“Like to another bar?” he asked, dazed as he continued to stare at her lips.

“Like to my bed,” she said boldly. “Or yours, depending on where Cassian and Nesta ended up.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her, and she panicked.

“I mean, only if you—I’m sorry, should I not have—?“

He only kissed her again in response, more gently this time.

“Please stop apologizing,” he said, kissing her jaw now before seeming to realize something and pulling back, brows synced.

“I—Jesus, do you seriously not know?”

She felt a bit sheepish at his incredulous tone and fought not to stiffen.

“Know what?”

He laughed softly, though their was a edge of self-deprecation in it that kept the gesture from seeming conscending.

“I really am the worst at this.”

“At what?”

“El, I’ll crazy about you. I have been crazy about you since we met.”

“You have?” she blurted, horror fading into genuine—if elated—confusion.

He laughed.

“Did you think it was coincidence that you and I are always sitting next to each other at dinner? That I always find you at Rhys’s dumb parties?”

“I—“ she began, still trying to decide if this was a dream or not. “What about Mor, though?”

“Mor?” he repeated, confused now, too. “What about her?”

“I thought you and she—“

He leaned in to brush his nose against hers, and she blushed at the innocent affection in the gesture.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I did have a thing for her in high school, but I got over it after she and Cash slept together at prom. We’re just friends, I swear.”

“But she’s always touching you, and every time I see you together you can’t stop looking at her.”

At this he laughed, his smile so genuine and open she almost didn’t recognize him.

“She’s always been touchy-feely,” he said. “She grew up in Madrid, and people are just more affectionate there, I guess. And I only watch her when you’re around because she called me out for having an absurd crush on you, and I was afraid she was going to get drunk and blow my cover by telling you.”

Elain shook her head, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Reading her expression, he bent to kiss her softly.

“What guy wouldn’t be crazy about you?” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”

This seemed to break the spell, and she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another steamy kiss.

“Text Cash,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke away. “I don’t want an audience.”

She couldn’t felt but feeling smug when he almost dropped his phone at those words. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one affected by all this.

“Cash and Nesta are at the lof—“ Az began after a minute, but Elain cut him off with a kiss.

H rose, pulling her against him as his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said as she kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a low groan. “You’ve been drinking.”

She grabbed his chin so he would look at her.

“Not that much,” she said, and it was true. “And besides, I wanted this way before tonight.“

“Good,” he breathed, pressing a hand to her low back to bring her close to him. “Because so have I.”

Though they spent the majority of the ride up town and the elevator up to her apartment making out, something seemed to shift as Elain’s door clicked shut behind him, as if the gravity of what they were about to do had finally caught up to them.

Reluctantly Az peeled his lips from where they’d been glued to her neck as he took a small step back, as if to give her space.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, feeling embarrassed for how much she still wanted him even now that he seemed to have come to his senses.

“Maybe we should—” he broke off, looking somewhat guilty. “Hold off.”

She nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay again.

“Are you worried this could mess things up in the group? Because I understand—“

“No,” he said hurriedly, coming forward again, as if he could no longer stand to be away. “Not at all. I just—you’re special, El. You deserve to be taken out and spoiled.”

“Az, you just took us to a $1,800 dinner! Or did you think I didn’t see you pulling our server aside?”

Azriel opened his mouth, and she covered it with a finger.

“You don’t need to earn my affection. It’s yours already, free of charge.”

“I’ve just been—I waited so long to make my move and I’m terrified of fucking it up,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Why, are you bad at sex?”

Azriel laughed, seemed to relax at her teasing.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he breathed again her lips, kissing her deeply again.

She gently bit his lower lip in response.

“Then I’d say you’ve gotten nothing to worry about,” she said, kissing him a third time.

She moaned softly when drove his fingers into her hair, hips canting towards her as he pressed her more fully into the door.

She could feel his body’s reaction to her pressing between her thighs, and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” he breathed onto her skin. “You are so gorgeous.”

“So are you,” she said, running her hands up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the mosaic of muscles flexing underneath. “Take this off.”

He laughed and pulled the offending garment over his head, making her groan in delight.

“God, this body ,” she breathed, running a hand down his chest and enjoying his shiver at her delicate touch.

He responded by spinning her away from him and gently dragging down the zipper of her dress until he could slip a hand inside of it.

“I knew you couldn’t have a bra on underneath this thing,” he said, voice a touch smug as he cupped both bare breasts and her breath caught in her throat..

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” she said, voice somewhat. “I wore this dress for you, and you didn’t even look at it once the entire evening.”

She laughed, the sound into a soft moan as he twisted one nipple in experimentation. When she sighed and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Of course I noticed the dress,” he corrected. “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I just knew that if I let myself look, I might not be able to stop looking.”

“You shouldn’t say that until you’ve seen them without the sorcery of underwire,” she said.

With that he spun her to face him, catching her gaze to ensure he had her permission before tugging down the top of the dress so her breasts fell free.

“Gorgeous,” he said, easing to his knees so he could replace his fingers with his mouth. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If I known this was going to be your reaction, I would have worn a bodycon dress in front of you ages ago,” she said, threading her hands through his hair as he dragged his teeth and tongue along her nipple.

“You don’t need some tight dress to be sexy,” he said, resting his chin her her sternum so he could gaze up at her. “I’d take you in your overalls and pigtail braids any day.”

“Is this some Pippy Longstocking fetish we should all know about?”

He grinned, rising to his feet and giving one of her curls a playful tug.

“Because as devastating as you are playing dress up in your sister’s clothes, I prefer you as you.”

“You can’t say that when I’m naked,” she said with a smile, touching his cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I may start crying and ruin the mood.”

He cocked his head to the side, tracing her lips with a finger.

“I wouldn’t mind a few tears from you in bed. But only if it’s from you sobbing in pleasure.”

His words sent blood pooling south, the intensity cause a dull throbbing.

“Why do I feel like you could do it, too?” She asked, reaching down to free his belt as he heeled out of his boots.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between his legs. “Forget this,” he said, squeezing gently so she could feel how hard he was. “I could go down on your all night and be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Emerie had said as much once, at a drunken girls’ night.

Azriel strikes me as the type of guy who loves eating girls out. It’s why gay women find him so easy to befriend; we recognize kindred spirit.

Elain vowed to never tell the others she’d been right.

“Will you let me?” He asked, gently nudging her dressing off her hips until it came free and pooled at her feet.

“Is this a trick question?” She said, voice going hoarse as he slipping a hand into her underwear.

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, he smiled, coaxing her legs around his waist so he could carry her.

“Thank God,” he replayed. “That would break my heart. Which way?”

She pointed him in the right direction before giving into temptation and kissing him again, looking to way she could feel like body reacting to hers as he held her close. Only when they reached her room—which was decidedly messier than she’d have liked considering Azriel Macar was now in it—did he set her down.

He wasted no time into coaxing her onto the bed, taking only a moment to admire the silky black thong she wore before dragging into down her thighs and discarding it.

“Spread your legs for me, El,” he said, brushing kisses to her knee as she slowly did as he commanded.

The light from the nearby street lamp made the room a lot less dark than Elain was used to during sex, and for a moment she though to be embarrassed or postpone. Then she glanced down to admire the contrast of Azriel’s inky black hair framed against the pale skin of her thighs, and she forgot what it even meant to be self-conscious as he finally put him mouth on her.

She swore at the first brush of his tongue, which was both deliberate and extremely delicate. She threaded a hand through his hair at his second stroke, the touch more intentional this time.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

She watched the muscles in his beautiful back shift at this, as if hearing her moan his name had untethered something in him. When he put his mouth back on her, it was clear he was no longer attempted to tease her. Instead he felt right to where she needed him most, refusing to relent until she tipped over the edge.

Even then he didn’t seem satisfied, it and it was only after he made her come a second time did he pull back, licking his lips before bending to kiss her.

“Take your pants off,” she demanded. "Right now.”

She felt him grinning against her neck as he peeled off of her, slowly working the buttons of his pants before sliding them down his trim hips. He wore black boxer briefs underneath, and he honestly looked like an Armani model. She bit her lip, eying the sizable swell of him through the cotton.

“Those too,” she breathed, greedily drinking in his well-defined adonis belt and the bare trace of hair above the band.

He did as she commanded, and she nearly melted. Naked he was a God, all rippling muscles and smooth unblemished skin, save for the chest piece tattoo that extended onto his shoulders and halfway down his arms. She let her eyes sink lower. Even half-hard he was big, and her belly clenched.

Wasting no time, she urged him to take her place on the bed before kneeling at his feet and putting her mouth on it.

“Shit,” he hissed, driving a hand into his hand then down his face. “Ellie, you’re kiling me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, and he growled in approval, seeming to decide something before breaking her grip on him and hauling her to her feet. He kissed her again, and she could feel his cock as it practically pulsed between them.

She still wasn’t sure she could believe it was for her, that somehow he wanted her as much as she did him, and had for almost as long.

“Condoms,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need to be inside of you.”

She froze.

“I don’t have any,” she said, dismayed.

How could she be so stupid? Why didn’t they stop on the way home? The closest bodega was six blocks, and she knew everyone who worked there. The last thing she needed was all of them knowing—

Azriel pressed a swift kiss to her lips before tangling from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a condom.”

“Naked?

He flashed her a slight grimace, “Let’s agree you won’t ask where I get it from.”

“Oh Moses,” Elain said, face flushing scarlet as she listened to Nesta’s door creaking open.

Azriel was back in less than a minute, tossing an entire box onto the nightstand as he pulled open one of the foils with his teeth, using his free hand to push his damp hair, long enough to brush his cheekbones now that it wasn’t styled, out of his eyes.

“You found those distressingly fast,” Elain said, unsure if she was amused or mortified at the situation.

“Cash is predictable with his hiding spots,” Az said, eyes hooded as he stroked himself several times before rolling the condom onto his length.

“And why did you take the whole box?”

Azriel laughed softly.

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Without another word Az sank to his knees again, one hand lazily stroking himself to maintain his erection as he went down on her again.

This time it only last three seconds or so before he pulled back, resting one knee beside her hip to steady himself before pulling her onto his shaft in a single wet stroke. Using her left bent leg as leverage, he adjusted his angle, smirking at her low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Good to know your g-spot is as sensitive as the rest of you,” he breathed, and she laughed and tugged him into an ambitious rhythm.

Soon the only sound was their shared breathing, and the sliding on their bodies against one another. She came first, and he followed even before the dizzying waves of pleasure ceased. He pumped lazily in and out of her for another half dozen stroke before gently extracting from her and peeling off the condom.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to chest as her hands continued to explore. Her fingers caressed his swelling pectorals and each of his abdominal muscles before lazily venturing back between his legs. He gave a hiss of pleasure as she began to work his silken shaft in earnest, and in minutes he was fully ready again.

He groaned when she snatched one of the condoms and rolled it onto him before swinging a leg over and sinking astride him.

Her third orgasm hit her only a short time later, and she sighed when he bucked up into her before going languid under her ministrations.

She leaned down to kiss him as he ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Jesus,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and swirling his hips, still inside her despite his orgasm. “That was incredible.”

She purred her contentment, feeling something even more alluring than desire swell in her chest as he discarded the second condom and tugged her into his arms, tangling their legs. He still smelled like cologne, but it had mixed with her perfume, and sweat, and the scent was intoxicating. She wanted to bath in it—in him—until she died from bliss. She listened to his breathing even out, and as she was drifting off to bed, he felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Do you like pancakes?” he murmured. “I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” she said, looking at him over a shoulder and melting at the warmth in his smile, less guarded now than it had been even hours before.

“I want to make breakfast for you every morning,” he breathed. “I have since I met you.”

She smiled, nestling closer to him.

“I’d love that, but I should probably be the one making you breakfast. It is your birthday, after all. You have to let me give you something other than a bj and a few orgasms for your birthday, even if it is your dirty 30.”

Az choked on a laugh.

“Say you‘ll dinner with me, then. No family or nosy friends around, just us.”

“I think the word you’re looking for it ‘date’,” she said, laughing as his cheeks flushed before realizing something. “Or is the idea just too formal for the situation? I know we did things a bit backwards...”

“We did,” he agreed, stroking her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I want to spoil you any less. So yes a date, if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she said, meeting his hazel eyes before gently kissing him. “With pleasure.”

He smiled against her mouth.

“Then that’s the only birthday gift I want or need from you.”

She smiled, feeling happy to the point of bursting when he kissed her ear and closed his eyes again.

"Happy Birthday, Az.”

His hum of contentment vibrated through her back.

“The happiest,” he breathed.

#featherywrites #elriel smut #elain x azriel #acotar modern one shot #four word prompts

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