#when will an update ever be in anyone's favor

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

#homestuck #homestuck meta #dave strider #mom lalonde #roxy lalonde #hs #strilonde guardian swap

[eyelessfaces]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

jonathan levy x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: bath/shower

warnings: age gap, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving)

word count: 0.5k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

Dating someone older than you had its pros and cons. 

Cons were your family’s non required opinions about your relationship, the deafening silence after you had told your friends that your new boyfriend was in his forties when they had yet been so excited for you to tell them more about him.

The pros were getting to learn about life’s hardships more easily, since your boyfriend had already gone through them and saw the end of the tunnel, and could then guide you through it.

But most of all, the ultimate con was Jonathan’s experience with sex.

Jonathan had been a broken man that you had to fix and put the pieces back together, and though it could seem like a favor that cannot be repaid to others, Jonathan paid you back well. Really well.

Sure, he may not have the stamina the men your age have, multiple rounds sometimes weren’t an option for him, but he could work your orgasm with his mouth and fingers way faster than anyone you had ever slept with before.

So when he drops to his knees in the middle of taking a shower together to eat you out, your reasonable reaction should be to tell him to stop being stupid and to be careful about his knees, but it flies out the window the moment you start to think about how his tongue is going to feel.

You let him maneuver your leg over his shoulder, your hand resting against the shower wall, your back resting against the one behind you; the position isn't the most comfortable, but you know it won't necessarily last long.

Your head drops back with a loud thunk when you feel the first contact of his tongue against your folds, the pain of the impact on your head quickly vanishing when Jonathan starts licking at you and dizziness takes over your senses.

Where he was usually delicate and slow, there he was eager and vigorous, determined to watch you fall apart above him. 

His hand is gripping your thigh over his shoulder, kneading it so vigorously as he eats you out that you’re sure there’s going to be his handprint bruised there once he’s done.

His other hand is pumping two fingers inside you, so intensely that you can hear the embarrassing squelch of your juices over the sound of the water falling over Jonathan’s back.

And there you could feel all the experience he had; his movements so calculated and effective, all his movements so coordinated to make you feel overwhelmed by sensations, but the good kind of overwhelmed; his flattened tongue lapping at your folds and then his lips closing to suckle at your clit, his fingers thrusting and hitting the spongy spot inside of you, and the feeling of his prickly beard against the inside of your thighs burning in a pleasant way.

You don’t even have the time to tell him when your orgasm is about to hit, too drunk and overwhelmed by everything he’s offering you, and you have to brace yourself against the wall when your knees go weak and start shaking.

He stands up once you recover, pulling you into a kiss allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

��I’m not done with you” he declares as he scoops up a trail of shampoo falling over your forehead. “But we’ll do that in bed, my knees can’t handle that.”

—

as always please reblog and tell me your thoughts it helps a lot!!

scenes from a marriage taglist: @missmarmaladeth @anightshift @whatthefishh @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @jakecockley @cocodiem @pedropascalsidechick @spxctorsslxt @stvnnie

+ @flightlessangelwings

#jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy #jonathan levy smut #oscar isaac #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #fawkinktober #scenes from a marriage

[yoongis-property]

SEONGHWA FIC RECS

last update: 07.31.2023

m- mature , f- fluff , a- angst , c- crack/humor, ☆- personal favorite

e2l- enemies to lovers, s2l- strangers to lovers, f2l- friends to lovers, bf2l- best friends to lovers, cf2l- childhood friends to lovers, fwb2l- friends with benefits to lovers, ex2l- exes to lovers, i2l- idiots to lovers

MASTERLIST

⇢ A DIRTY LITTLE SECRET by @hwa-whiskers​ (fuckboy!sh, roommate!au, a, m)

❝ Having a crush on your roommate who was the fuckboy of your university was bad enough, but what gets worse is when he brings other women home and you secretly masturbated upon hearing them that night, wishing it were you instead. But how will it unfold when Seonghwa finds out? ❞

⇢ A KNIGHT`S TALE by @kitten4sannie​ (dragon shifter!sh, knight!reader,  fantasy!au, light a, m)

❝ a knight is ordered by the king to save the princess from a fearsome dragon. this, of course, is a common fairy tale with a predictable ending — but what happens when there’s more to the story than meets the eye? ❞

⇢ ADDICTING KITTEN by @tenelkadjowrites​ (m, f, light a)

❝ When your car breaks down and your phone is dead, you are stranded alone on the way home. However, when Seonghwa, the intimidating figure you see at the club often, comes by and offers you a ride, you cannot help but feel as if you might be walking into the lion’s den. ❞  

⇢ AEMULUS by @sluttywonwoo​​ (academic rival!au, fake dating!au, m, f)

❝ park seonghwa is in no position to ask you for a favor. but being underqualified for something has never stopped him before. ❞

⇢ AMAZING GRACE by @yoongiseesawmp3​ (f, a, m)

❝ you’re spending the summer at home after finishing school and you somehow get dragged into handling the baby nursery at church for the next two months. the only thing sweeter than the babies is your co-worker, park seonghwa. ❞

⇢ CHEAT CODES by @serendipityunho​ (m, a, college!au)

❝ "This party's boring, wanna get out of here?", may have perhaps led you to make the biggest mistake of your life by sleeping with your best friend's other best friend, your best friend who happens to be in love with you. ❞   

⇢ COMPANY by @atinyidea​ (hogwarts!au, f)

❝ “not many people would willingly choose my company” ❞

⇢ DAYDREAMING by @sluttywoozi​  (established relationship, f, m, ☆)

❝ Seonghwa gets a bit... distracted while working on his legos. ❞

pt. 2

⇢ DO NOT DISTURB by @hwasdvlly​ (established relationship, idol!au, f)

❝ its just a chill live stream, but something happens along the way ❞

⇢ DUNE by @hongism​​ (biker!sh, m)

❝ Your excursions with Seonghwa are never anything holy despite how sacred the time shared between you feels at times. ❞

⇢ ESSENCE by @whatudowhennooneseesyou​ (siren!sh, m, dark themes)

​ ❝ A siren rescues you from the plunder of a shipwreck, you're grateful for his mercy in letting you live. But at what cost? ❞

⇢ EVERYDAY AT THE BUS STOP by @tenelkadjowrites​ (f, m, s2l)

❝ your crush on fellow passenger, Seonghwa, changes into something new the day the bus breaks down. ❞

⇢ FIRST TIME by @ateezmakemeweep​ (established relationship, a, f, m)

❝ Seonghwa's been away for far too long and all you want to do is cuddle. Or so you think. ❞

⇢ GANG AU by @fantastic-bby​​ (gang!au, a, m)

❝ Seonghwa would never get on his knees for anyone… but you’re not just anyone to him. ❞

⇢ GENTLE by @cheollipop​​ (hybrid!au, m, f) feat. wooyoung

❝ desperate and whiny, your heat pheromones triggered wooyoung's feral instincts, forcing seonghwa to step in and teach him how to treat you properly. ❞

⇢ GROUPIE LOVE by @kitten4sannie​​ (guitarist!sh, m) 

❝ you'd do anything for your favorite guitarist. ❞

⇢ HOW YOU GET THE GIRL by @starrysvn​ (ex2l, f, light a)

❝ say it's been a long six months and you were too afraid to tell her what you want. and that's how it works, that's how you get the girl. and then you say; i want you for worse or for better, i would wait for ever and ever, broke your heart, i'll put it back together, i would wait for ever and ever. ❞

⇢ IN YOUR HANDS by @kitten4sannie​​ (vampire!au, m) kinda feat. mingi

❝ you meet someone that excites you again. ❞

⇢ JASMINE & BISCUITS by @daybreakx​ (hogwarts!au, f)

❝ You knew good things didn’t happen overnight. No matter how magical Hogwarts was, or how many problems a potion or a spell could solve, things didn’t work that way, especially when it came to feelings and relationships. ❞

⇢ LITTLE GREEN EYED MONSTER by @hee0soo​ (established relationship, light a, f)

❝ Studying with your boyfriend does not have a happy ending ❞

⇢ ME OR THE PS5 by @tohokuu​​ (established relationship, a, m)

❝ you hated black fridays. not because of the great sales, but because your boyfriend, seonghwa had finally gotten the time and money to buy himself a ps5. the long-awaited gaming console he had been gushing to you about forever.. ❞

⇢ MILKY WAY by @ad0rechuu​​ (sm!au, idol!reader, f, a) feat. san & mingi

❝ It’s not everyday that your friends childhood friend turns out to be the girl that you literally have a fan account for, but for Seonghwa, San and Mingi it’s become a reality. being able to get close to your bias is great! even if she does have a raging crush on someone else… ❞

unfinished!

⇢ MR. & MRS. PARK by @baekhvuns​ (mafia!au, a, m, light f)

❝ In which the task of killing your enemy is abruptly put on pause when you discover their cute little secret. ❞

⇢ ONE QUESTION by @tenelkadjowrites​ (established relationship, m) feat. mingi

❝ I was wondering how long it was into the friendship before the two of you realized that you want to sleep together?” ❞

⇢ PIRATE!SEONGHWA by @ateezmakemeweep​ (kinda e2l, a, f,  ☆)

❝ “is she alive?" "i don't know." "well check if she's breathing, you scalawag!" "wooyoung, i told you a million times not to talk like that!” "we're pirates, san, how can i no-"

the sound of you choking stops the boy's from bickering, eight pairs of eyes intently watching as salt water comes up from your lungs and spills down your chin. ❞

⇢ PLAYING NICE by @sa-honey (fake dating!au, e2l, a, f, m)

❝ when your date for your sister`s wedding at the last minute you`re left desperate for a replacement. An unlikely volunteer steps up and offers to fill the place. ❞  

⇢ PLAYING WITH FIRE by @ateezmakemeweep​​ (f, m, age gap, ☆)

❝ you first met park eunbi during your first year of college, when she walked through your dorm room with a smile on her face and her parents by her side - or, more notably to you, her incredibly handsome father.

that’s all he ever was to you though - your friend’s hot dad who you only ever saw a few times a year. but when you find yourself around him more and more often, your attraction growing and his eyes lingering, you suddenly find yourself in a situation you know is wrong but can’t seem to pull yourself out of. ❞  

⇢ PROPERLY by @tenelkadjowrites​​ (m, f, bf2l)

❝ Nervous about running into your ex at a party, your best friend Seonghwa has devised a plan to pretend that you are dating him. However, in acting as if you are together, the friendship begins to change course. ❞

⇢ READ FOR ME by @pirateprincessblog​ (best friend's father!sh, m, a, light f)

❝ you promised your friend. you asked for forgiveness and gave a promise that you wouldn't even look her father's way. it isn't your fault that you suck at keeping promises. ❞

⇢ SLEEP-TALKER by @mingigoo​ (vacation!au, one bed trope, m)

❝ When you and you friends decide on a trip tot he beach for spring break, you get stuck rooming with the man you „hate“ the most. The line between love and hate is as thin as ice, and you were about to break it. ❞  

⇢ SO OBLIVIOUS by @xxsanshinexx​ (fake fiance!au, f2l, f)

❝ “Seonghwa I need you to pretend to be my fiancé for the weekend.” Was the words that left your mouth as you burst through the door of your best friends apartment. ❞

⇢ SOME KIND OF DISASTER by @daybreakx​ (vacation!au, ex2l, a, f)

❝ San’s house was big enough to hold the seven people in the group comfortably. It was spacious and luxurious, and although abandoned for most of the year, it was kept in good shape. This wasn’t the first time you went to the beach house, it had become a tradition to go together every summer.. ❞

⇢ SUGAR RUSH by @sluttywoozi​ (baker!sh, s2l, f, light m)

❝ Bakery owner Seonghwa is sweet on you. ❞

⇢ THE BEST FRIENDS CODE by @tenelkadjowrites​ (m, bf2l) feat. hongjoong

❝ Hongjoong swears up and down that if you don’t touch each other, it won’t ruin the friendship...and what is the harm in blowing off some steam? ❞

seonghwa is in part 2 and part 3

⇢ THE SEAT NEXT TO HIS by @oldloveatz​ (college!au, f)

❝ you’ve had the biggest crush on your friend seonghwa, and either he was oblivious and only saw you as a friend, or he was really good at hiding his truest feelings. ❞

⇢ THE TROUBLE WITH ROOMMATES by @anyamaris​ (m, roommate!au)

❝ "Y/n!!" You hear your name being called and you sigh, pulling off your headset.  Should have gotten noise cancelling, you think and lean back in your chair.. ❞

⇢ UNDER THE LIGHTS by @mimikookie​ (vampire!sh, established relationship, f, m, light a)

❝ To Seonghwa, you're the most stunning person in his lifetime. He's so committed to you that he gifts you something very precious for your anniversary. ❞

⇢ WALLFLOWER by @tenelkadjowrites​​ (nerd!sh, coworker!au, m, f, ☆)

❝ Having not given much thought about your nerdy coworker, Seonghwa, all of that changes when you hear a rumor about his sexual prowess in bed. ❞

⇢ WEREWOLF!SEONGHWA MEETING HIS MATE by @you-did-well-moon​ (werewolf!sh, f, light a)

❝ You walked at a leisurely pace as the grass of the damp forest floor swayed and danced with you, seemingly reaching out to you by gently curling over the edges of your boots. An easy smile tugged at your lips at the comfort the forest brought to you. ❞

please like or reblog, it helps a lot :)

#ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez fic recs #fic rec #fanfics #fic review #ateez seonghwa #ateez seonghwa fluff #ateez seonghwa smut #ateez seonghwa angst #seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fic rec #park seonghwa #smut #ateez masterlist #kpop #masterlist #Big Masterlist #seonghwa masterlist #ateez hongjoong #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez mingi #ateez san

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Trevor Zegras (Part Seven)

SERIES MASTERLIST

previous: six

next: eight

corresponding quinn post

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 2023

PREGAME

yourusername

liked by colecaufield, trevorzegras, and 4,311 others

yourusername welcome to my pregame update: bets addition! trevor currently stands at 4 games without a penalty, and quinn stands at 5. the last pic is the bets for tonights games! after the games, i’ll let you all know who owes what <3

game day, yay day!!

tagged trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, jackhughes, lhughes_06, jamie.drysdale, _alexturcotte, and colecaufield

view all 317 comments

trevorzegras it’s on😤😈

yourusername be an angel i want money

jackhughes be a devil (😏) i want money

user1 there’s so many possibilities here omg

user2 i want to be a fly on the wall if they’re all facetiming

_quinnhughes may the odds be ever in our favor

yourusername ihy<3

_quinnhughes says the one who can’t watch mockingjay pt 2 without pausing to cry

yourusername ihy (x2)

jackhughes @_quinnhughes for once i’m with y/n

jamie.drysdale “what is it all for? what do you want?”

yourusername “in a word— chaos.”

trevorzegras stop quoting snl

yourusername @/trevorzegras but i truly started these bets for chaos

user3 who wants to bet how long it takes until half the league is in this betting pool😂

_alexturcotte it’s like hell week all in one night

colecaufield true

yourusername you’re welcome! :)))

user4 i love that jack is betting against everybody

lhughes_06 there is no way anyone is coming out of this unscathed

yourusername yolo

trevorzegras @/yourusername my love can only go so far please stop using that

lhughes_06 @/yourusername i agree

yourusername careful boys, i have your moms phone numbers

lhughes_06 @/yourusername my mom is literally your mom

yourusername @/lhughes_06 yeah, that’s how i have her number

jackhughes viva los vegas🎰

trevorzegras you’re not funny

jackhughes i didn’t ask

POSTGAME

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, and 6,289 others

yourusername welcome to my postgame penalty box update: ducks addition! today will have multiple posts, because i refuse to have just one unhinged photo. onto the news!

tonight, the love of my life (and current greatest enemy) received a penalty for slashing and is back to zero games since his last time in the box. i owe jack a lot of money and that’s simply the worst fate. thanks, babe<3

BUT THE DUCKS WON 4-2 SO AT LEAST SOME PEOPLE (besides j*ck🙄) WON TONIGHT!! stay tuned for quinn’s post!

tagged trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, lhughes_06, jackhughes, jamie.drysdale, _alexturcotte, and colecaufield

view all 702 comments

jackhughes why did you turn my name into a swear word when all i do is love and support you with my friendship?

yourusername you can’t even prove that?

jackhughes @/trevorzegras your girlfriend is gaslighting me

trevorzegras @/jackhughes you can’t even prove that

trevorzegras sorry you owe jack 2 hundy but i love you, forever🧡

yourusername mhmm i love you, always

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras she was cursing your name more than jack’s

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale that’s true love, baby

user1 y/n really put all her faith in her boyfriend and best friend and they did her dirty

user2 is no one gonna mention that alex also won all his bets

_quinnhughes i agree j*ck sucks

jackhughes what about brother solidarity?!

yourusername @/jackhughes 1. you bet against him. 2. best friend privileges so suck it

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes what she said

user3 when he’s a criminal>>> 🥵

jamie.drysdale you won by spending time with me!

yourusername i mean i guess

trevorzegras that’s just another L

_alexturcotte thank you for the chaos you created! love ya!

yourusername no, you just love the facetime screenshots of me crying

colecaufield @/yourusername i also love those and u

yourusername @/colecaufield @_alexturcotte i love you both too ig but ur on probation😘

user4 i cannot wait to see what happens when the canucks and ducks play each other

trevorzegras EVERYONE KEEPS COMMENTING THAT THEY LOVE YOU SO I JUST NEED TO SAY I LOVE YOU MOST, MY BEAUTIFUL CRAZY GIRL

yourusername i love you always, z🧡

jamie.drysdale gross

jackhughes brb i’m gagging

lhughes_06 maybe we should lower the stakes for the ducks v canucks game😂

yourusername i knew you were good for something! love ya lukey!

lhughes_06 love you too?

user5 this comment section has sm love for y/n it’s adorable

jamie.drysdale it’s because she cried

jackhughes this is charity work

#penalty box series #sorry if it sucks #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras insta edit #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #jamie drysdale #anaheim ducks #nhl players #nhl imagine #alex turcotte #cole caufield

[pb-dot]

Some Thoughts on the Reddit Blackout

Like many new arrivals on Tumblr these days, I used to be a Redditor until recent developments encouraged me to take my business elsewhere, and I have been following the development of the story as thoroughly as I can without actually giving Reddit any more traffic. With the most recent development of the Reddit admin corps taking on a suite of strategies lifted straight from the depression-era railroad baron playbook, I figured the time has come to talk a little about the wider implications of this whole story.

The Tech sector is, to the best of my understanding, in a vulnerable place right now. After the Web 2.0 gold rush and years of consolidation and growth from the biggest actors, your Alphabets, Twitters, Metas, and so on, many of the larger sites and services are reaching the largest size they can expect to grow to. How, for instance, could Facebook or Twitter grow much more now that everyone and their mother is on Facebook and Twitter? Prior to the Musk buyout, Twitter seemingly settled on upping engagement, making sure people were on Twitter longer and invested more energy and emotion in the platform, usually by making damn sure the discourse zapping through that hellhole was as polarizing and hostile as possible. Meta, meanwhile, has been making bank on user data as advertisers, AI folks, and any number of other actors salivate over getting their hands on the self-updating contact and interest registry that is Facebook.

With the rise of what we apparently have decided to call AI, data is now more valuable than ever. I consider this to be yet another Tech Hype Bubble on the level of NFTs or Metaverses, but, like with the two above, I can imagine it's hard to explain that when you are a Tech CEO and your shareholders ask you "Hey, how do you plan on earning us money off of this AI/NFT/Metaverse thing?" This is not to say CEO Steve Huffman isn't handling this whole thing with the grace of a three-legged hippo, but merely to suggest that his less-than-laudable decisions and actions in this mess don't arise from his character alone but also is a result of wider systemic issues.

One of these issues is the complicated role user data plays in modern websites and -services. Since its inception as a publicly accessible space, the question of how to monetize the Internet has been a tricky one for site and service owners. Selling ad space on your website or service has long been the go-to, but this in itself presents its own issues, having to curate content that is considered ad-friendly, malicious or careless actors making using said service or website less attractive for customers, and finally how to convince your advertisers that they get what they pay for in the first place, ie. "how do I know people even look at our ads?" All of this is before you even stop to consider how ads massively favor large, established actors.

It's no small wonder, then, that several startups in the era of internet mass adoption chose to forgo ads, or at least massively deprioritize them and/or relaunch them as "promoted posts," in an attempt to escape the stigma around ads. Meta/Facebook is probably the biggest fish in this particular pond, but we also see other services such as Twitter and Reddit follow the same pattern.

What makes this work is that the data these platforms collect from their users isn't all that valuable on a person-to-person basis, knowing that so-and-so is 32 years old, lives in a traditionally conservative part of the city, goes to Starbucks a lot, and listens to Radiohead isn't particularly useful information for anyone but a dedicated but lazy stalker; When viewed as an aggregate, however, large collections of data on a large population becomes quite valuable. This is especially true if you're working with, say, targeted ads or political campaigns. Look no further than the Cambridge Analytica data scandal for an example.

Now, all this is to illustrate the strange position the user occupies in Web 2.0. We tend to think of ourselves as the customer of Facebook, Reddit, Tumblr, and so on, but it isn't the case. After all, we don't pay for these services, and if we do it's to buy freedom from ads or other minor service modifications. It is more correct to say that we make up the product itself. This is true in two respects, first, an active social community is vital for social media to not be entirely pointless, and second, we generate the data that the platform holder seeks to monetize. This hybrid product/participant role doesn't map cleanly to traditional understandings of "worker," but I argue it is a closer fit than "customer."

All of this is to say that it is immensely gratifying to see the Reddit Blackout taking the shape of a strike rather than the more typical boycott model we've seen in the internet-based protests of yesteryear. Much of this, I think, we can thank the participating Reddit moderators. While the regular platform user can be *argued* to be a worker, the moderator inarguably is one, and the fact that they aren't paid for their efforts is more a credit to the prosocial nature of humans than to the corporate acumen of the platform holders. Either way, moderating a subreddit is work, if the subreddit is large, it's quite a lot of work, and moderators keeping malicious actors, scammers, and hatemongers out of everyone's hair is a must for any decently sized social space to not be an objectively terrible experience. So, if you were to, for example, withhold your labor (moderating for free) which you as a worker can do, it would be plain irresponsible to leave the place open for said bad apples to ruin everyone's bunches, thus the shutdowns.

I don't think it's a controversial take to claim that the Reddit admins also view this more as a strike than a boycott, given their use of scabs, intimidation, and other strikebreaking tactics in an attempt to break the thing up. This is nothing new, and the fact that Reddit admins are willing to stoop to these scumbag tactics tells us that their bluster about the shutdown not affecting their bottom line is nothing more than shareholder-placating hot air.

As this entire screed has perhaps demonstrated, I believe the Reddit Blackout is important. My stay at Tumblr so far has been excellent and will probably continue past this strike no matter what outcome it has, but for others in my situation, or perhaps entirely alien to the Reddit biome, I ask you to consider: If we do not stop this level of consumer and user-unfriendly bullshit Reddit have been pulling on the API change, where will it pop up next? Who's to say the next bright idea in corpo-hell isn't "Hey boss, how about we charge these nerd losers a dollar per reblog? And maybe a fiver for a Golden Reblog (TM)?"

This is perhaps getting into grandstanding, but I believe we are way past due for a renegotiation of what it means to be a platform holder and -user on this hot mess of an internet. If we as users do not take an active, strong stance on the matter, the Steve Huffmans, Elon Musks, and Mark Zuckerbergs of the world will decide without us. One does not have to be a fortune teller to see that the digital world this would create would not have our best interests in mind any more than the current one does.

So, in closing, I wish to extend my wholehearted support to the participating Moderators of Reddit and everyone who has decided to take their business elsewhere for the duration of the shutdown. Even without getting into the nitty-gritty of the API situation, this is a fight worth having, and may we through it make a world that's just a little bit less shitty.

Become Ungovernable

Become Unprofitable

Stay that way.

#reddit blackout #reddit #long reads #Oops my hands slipped across my keyboard a bunch #Tech #Peebs thinks #capitalism #fuck capitalism #big data #information technology

[irismoon94]

yours alone

Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Chapter One: All You Have is Your Fire

Summary: "Things had been going… surprisingly well in the weeks following the night of Lisa’s party.

Still sat against the entry hall wall, your ruined underwear still in his back pocket, the two of you finally talked through the issues in your relationship as roommates and figured out the necessary compromises you both needed in order to coexist together in a way that wouldn’t end up with one of you behind bars for battery. It’s funny what a little open communication can do for people looking for mutual respect and understanding.

Well, the sex certainly helped too."

Word count: 8.4k

Warnings: Smut, 18+, minors DNI! rough sex, penetration, explicit language, biting, choking, pet names, role reversal, feelings realization, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, praise, vaginal fingering, spit as lube, drug and alcohol use, .

A/N: alright so this obviously took longer to update than I planned, but here's chapter one of Part Three as promised! I really am sorry it took so long, but I promise it'll have been worth the wait and so will be the ending!! I hope this smut is enought to make up for it 🙈

(if anyone would like the link to the video that inspired the scene, send me a DM, I'd be happy to share)

Un-beta'd as usual, feel free to message me any typos or tags I might gave missed, and enjoy!!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three Chap. Two coming soon

Masterlist of my other works

--

Things had been going… surprisingly well in the weeks following the night of Lisa’s party.

Still sat against the entry hall wall, your ruined underwear still in his back pocket, the two of you finally talked through the issues in your relationship as roommates and figured out the necessary compromises you both needed in order to coexist together in a way that wouldn’t end up with one of you behind bars for battery. It’s funny what a little open communication can do for people looking for mutual respect and understanding.

Well, the sex certainly helped too.

Between jobs, school, and the separate social lives, you found yourselves increasingly drawn to one another whenever you were both home at the same time. Meals were shared and you even started to hangout in some of your available free time which, not that you’d ever admit it, had grown in favor of spending it with him over other activities. Most of these occurrences would start out innocent for the most part, but inevitably something would pass between the two of you and someone would say something offhand, and the banter would begin, tension growing higher and higher until you were tearing at each other’s clothes and end with you in a pile of sweaty limbs, bruises and bitemarks covering your bodies. 

The dynamic had shifted, that much was plain to you, but part of you wondered how much and what that might exactly mean.

Whatever it meant, you weren’t about to risk losing it. 

At least for now.

---

Two months later 

It was nearly midnight when you finally got back from a group study session that had run far later than you’d intended, and you were only half surprised to find Eddie camped out in the living room with his acoustic guitar in his lap, picking out a soft song on its strings, a look of concentration fixed upon his face. His brows were knit together tightly as he closely monitored his finger placement, with his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth, hyper focused on whatever song he was working on learning at the moment. You bit your lips into your mouth to hide the smile that formed, the frankly adorable and entertaining look of concentration on his face a welcome sight after spending dreadfully long hours cramming for your exams.

Slipping your bag off your shoulder and placing it by your door, you headed into the kitchen as quietly as you could so you wouldn’t interrupt him, an effort that turned out to be in vain when he greeted you without looking up from his instrument.

“You’re home pretty late, huh?” he observed, smiling at himself after what you assumed was him playing a chord progression correctly.

Opening the fridge and retrieving a beer, you twisted the cap off and took a hearty swallow of the beverage, groaning in agreement.

“Yeah, midterm prep is really kicking my ass,” you replied, wandering into the living room and dropping into the armchair next to the couch. 

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you let your eyes wander over his appearance, appreciating the peeks of skin his cutout shirt afforded you in contrast to the baggy sweatpants half hidden under his guitar. His hair was pulled up in a loose bun he sometimes wore around the apartment, the look suiting him more than you’d ever freely admit. Some of the shorter layers of his hair would fall free from the hair tie and frame his face in such a way that drew your attention to the strong slant of his jaw and then inevitably down to the column of his throat. Of which was currently sporting a couple of fading hickies that you’d left from your last romp in the bed a few days ago.

Should freshen those up soon, the thought rising to the forefront of your brain before you chased it away with another gulp of your beer, slipping down the chair cushions and closing your eyes to listen to him continue playing.

“Everytime I hear you or one of my friends complain about exams and papers and all that shit, I’m reminded how glad I am that I never decided to go to college. Suffered enough of it with my extra years of high school,” he sighed, strumming a few more notes before letting them fade into the air and setting the guitar gently against the side of the couch. 

That caught your attention, the small admission about his past snagging on something in the sludge of your exhausted brain and holding there, begging to be examined. 

“You had to repeat some years?” you asked, not hiding the surprise in your voice. In the wake of the budding friendship that had started to grow between you, you’d come to see that despite his choice not to pursue higher education, Eddie was smart. True cleverness and wit hidden beneath the mask of bravado he wore around most, only revealed to those he deemed trustworthy and those who had the patience to wait for it.

“Yeah, senior year. Took me three tries and a lot of cheering and support from my uncle and my friends, but I got there eventually,” he explained, gaze going kind of distant, corner of his mouth tugging down in a small frown before he seemed to shake it off and look over at you, smiling warmly. 

Your heart tripped over itself in your chest, fluttering pathetically at something that had no right to make you feel like this. You ignored it as the memory of a particular photo from his room came to mind at the mention of his friends. 

“How is your uncle?” you asked quickly, changing the subject as you decided that maybe you weren’t feeling quite brave enough to learn any more of Eddie’s past in your current state, exhaustion and partial inebriation weakening your defenses more than you liked. 

Something seemed to sharpen in Eddie’s eyes at the redirection but it vanished again as he settled back into the cushions and stretched his legs out, mirroring your posture. And when he lifted his hips ever so slightly and spread his legs, you felt your senses sharpen in response, recognizing the game had begun. 

“Wayne’s good, yeah. Visiting his hometown with his old lady down in Tennessee, showing her the mountains and waterfalls,” he told you, sliding his palms up and down his thighs, the movement pulling the fabric across his lap taut. You tried to maintain eye contact, but your peripherals were enough to catch the outline of his dick come into better definition, already starting to harden. 

Your mouth went dry and it was all you could do not to choke when you drained the rest of your bottle in order to wet it again, squeezing your legs together as your cunt throbbed in anticipation. 

“That's good to hear,” you said, smiling cooly as the alcohol began to buzz in your head. “He’s a great guy. Deserves good things.”

“He really does,” Eddie agreed, regarding you with heavy lidded eyes. “How about you, Princess? How are you? You’re looking a bit warm there.”

Your breath hitched as his eyes trailed down the slouched length of your body before flicking back up to your face, unmistakable hunger in their dark depths. 

Leaning forward, you deposited your empty bottle onto the coffee table, sliding a coaster underneath it as an excuse to use the extra seconds to try and gather yourself.

“Just the booze, you know how it makes me all flushed.”

“You sure about that, Princess? Nothing else bothering you? I only ask because you’re looking a little tense too. I could give you a massage if you like? Help you get some of those kinks out,” he taunted in a low rumble, practically purring. 

You let a couple beats pass between you before you answered, dropping the facade for another.

“Okay,” you said bluntly, grinning inwardly when his brows disappeared under his bangs as you got up and moved over to him, sitting astride his lap. “What would you do then, if I asked, Puppy? Tell me.”

You watched as he processed your words, grabbing his hands as he tried to place them on your hips. 

“Nuh uh, just tell me first, and then we’ll see if I want your help.”

You could feel his dick twitch where it was trapped underneath you, your core tightening in response as well. 

“Would start off easy first, work on your neck and shoulders, see what kind of pressure you liked,” he began, voice gravelly as he breathed heavily under you. “Get you nice and relaxed.”

You rolled your neck and shoulders, putting on a show of how tight they felt as you stretched the sore muscles and let a tense moan slip out from the strain of it. Eddie’s eyes widened a fraction at the sound, his nostrils flaring while you arched your back on another stretch that had your pussy pressing against his erection harder, grinding against ever so slightly to tease him with friction. 

“That does sound nice,” you considered, finally placing his hands on your hips and squeezing them, but still not letting go. “What else?”

“Would have you lay face down on your bed so I could do your back next. Shirt and bra off, maybe your pants too so I could work on the rest of you if you wanted. Full body massage,” he described, hands kneading and squeezing your hips as you started slowly rolling against him, building the friction you both needed. 

“Mhm, very good. Keep going,” you instructed, letting go of his hands to pull your shirt off, tossing it next to you on the couch. 

“Get you all loose and relaxed like I said I would, eating up all those little sounds you’d be making, every sigh and moan. Make you feel so good. Would probably be hard as a rock by then too. But I wouldn’t touch you anywhere you didn’t ask me to. Not until you tell me to.”

“And what would you do once I told you I did?”

Testing the waters, he slid one hand up to cup your breast through your bra, waiting to see if you’d pull back again. You just smiled down at him, saying nothing as you waited for him to continue. 

“I’d turn you over. Wanna see your face as I touch you. Tease you a little, play with your tits, your stomach, everywhere but where you'd want me to touch except the one play you’d need me to.”

You mewled softly at the image of it in your mind’s eye, Eddie teasing you as he kneeled at your side, fingertips ghosting along your skin, lightly pinching your nipples and skating along the insides of your thighs, avoiding touching your aching pussy. His dick straining in his pants so enticingly close to your face while he played with your body with the same care he showed his beloved instruments, playing with you until he got the perfect sound out of you. 

“And when I tell you I can’t take it anymore?” you asked breathlessly, your pulse racing and your body nearly quaking now, your restraint holding on by a thread. 

“Then I’d fuck you like no one has ever fucked you before. Until you forget your name, and mine too. Until you came so hard you couldn’t see straight and begged me to stop.”

You stilled in his lap, staring down at him as he paused too, your eyes locked together and the room falling away around you. 

“And what if I didn’t want you to stop? What if I told you not to stop, even if I begged? Even if I cried? That the only way I’d ask you to stop is if I said it with a safeword?”

“You want that?”

You nodded.

“I can do that.”

You smiled, relieved that he seemed as keen as you were. Rough sex was the regular for you two, but you found yourself wanting to try something more, something that required trust that you were becoming increasingly sure you could put in him to do it with. 

He made you feel… safe.

“Good. Not tonight. But soon,” you told him, getting out of his lap and heading towards his room, shimmying out of your jeans and stepping out of them on the way. “Now hurry up and come fuck me like normal so I can get some sleep.”

Eddie came out of the daze you’d left him in and scrambled after you, nearly forgetting his guitar before running back to get it and then chasing after you again. 

Waking up in Eddie’s bed could still be a little bit of a shock when you came to, his scent filling your nostrils before your eyes opened, a baseline of salt and warm skin, mixed with a slight woodsiness that was such a stark contrast from the generic smell of his shampoo and soap. It sometimes made you wonder if it came from living so close to the woods surrounding his hometown, a piece of the wilderness that still lived inside of him even after leaving it years ago. 

But whatever its origin, it never failed to draw you in deeper, to where its source lay beside you, usually still asleep until you’d press your face into his neck in a rare act of deeper intimacy. But even more rare than that were the days like today where Eddie was actually awake and up before you, pulling on bits of clothing and the couple of pieces of jewelry that he could wear safely at his job at a garage a few blocks away. So instead of his neck, you grabbed his abandoned but still warm pillow and pressed your face into it to inhale deeply. 

“You’re coming to the show tomorrow night, right?” Eddie asked, interrupting your pillow huffing. 

Hugging the pillow to your chest, you looked down the bed to where he was hopping on one foot as he pulled on his coveralls. You snorted a laugh as he nearly fell over, pushing up onto your elbows to look at him more clearly. 

“Yeah, at eight right? The Crow Bar?”

“Yep, you got it, though if you showed up earlier to wish us luck, I wouldn’t complain,” he teased, grinning at you, the sharp points of his teeth glinting in the low lamplight. 

Your thighs ached deliciously at the memory of those teeth in your flesh, the impressions of them bruised into your skin. You slipped a hand back under the covers to press at them lightly, shivering at the slight pain. 

“And torture myself with more ear splitting music than I’ll already be doing listening to you play? Don’t push your luck there, Puppy. Besides, I’m already pushing my own luck by coming out instead of studying for these damn exams next week,” you reminded, dropping back against his mattress with quiet huff. 

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Eddie said in his best Nicholson impression, coming round to your side of the bed, a deranged smile on his face.

“Oh fuck off, I play plenty,” you scoffed, chucking his pillow at him, which he barely deflected in time before picking it off the floor and tossing back over to his side of the bed. 

“Don’t I know it. It feels like you used my back like your own personal scratching post, Kitten.”

“Aww, does Puppy need me to put some ointment on him?” you smirked, earning a warning look from him. “I didn’t hear you complaining about it last night.”

“Me? Complain? Never,” Eddie replied with a wink before shrugging on his leather jacket and opening his door. “I know you’ll miss me when I’m not here, but try not to stay in my bed all day, okay?”

You rolled your eyes and gave him the finger before sitting up and wrapped yourself in the comforter, following him out of the room and shuffling into yours to throw on some clothes. He called out a cheery byeeee to you which you returned with a farewell that was far less enthusiastic before you heard the door close and lock. Dropping the blanket, you shivered in the cold before putting on a sweater and soft pants, going over a mental checklist for your day. 

Eat breakfast, study, study, try to remember to eat lunch, study, call your parents and try to avoid the topic of dating like the plague, and then study even more before collapsing in your bed to sleep. 

Blowing out an apathetic breath, you headed to the kitchen to begin your boring day. 

You kind of missed Eddie. 

Shit. 

---

The next day seemed to drag on endlessly between the two classes you had, both thankfully  turned into study halls by your professors, but still agonizingly long. And then you had your shift at the campus store, which was another six hours of taking inventory since the place was practically empty aside from yourself and your coworker and the four, yes, four, you’d counted, customers that came in during that time. 

After twenty minutes of closing duties, you were rushing back to your apartment to get ready with what little time you had left, panicking for ten of those minutes to figure out what the hell you were going to wear to a heavy metal bar, not to mention your makeup and hair. Settling on keeping your hair down and lining your eyes with thick eyeliner, you abandoned the search through your closet to dig through Eddie’s drawers instead, yanking on one of his black band shirts overtop a pair of your jeans and some hightops. Deciding this was the best you’d manage, you grabbed your purse and called a cab before heading downstairs to wait for your ride. 

It was ten till eight when you actually got to the venue and it still took you almost another twenty minutes just to get inside the damn place, and you were feeling fidgety when the bouncer finally waved you in. The music pulsed in the floor beneath your feet; the sound of a raucous guitar riff, heavy bassline, rapidfire drum beats, all accompanying a voice like a serrated knife that cut through the instruments and the din of the crowd. You took a breath, quickly registering that it was Eddie singing, sounding so different from the quiet voice you’d heard him use at home. The lyrics were edgy and dark, a little angry, but not unexpected given the genre and you made yourself relax enough to walk further inside, searching for the bar as you peeked over the heads in the crowd to try and see Eddie.

A small crowd lined the bar, all the guys wearing variations of outfits you’d seen Eddie wear whenever he went out, leather and denim, various bits of jewelry and accessories that usually bore a skull somewhere on them. The girls however, were all big hair and tight skirts, the darker, more sultry counterparts of the colorful outfits you’d seen at the clubs you’d gone to with friends, with far more black lace and lingerie worn in place of tops. There were a few dressed like you but not enough to make you feel like you were sorely underdressed despite this not being your scene whatsoever. 

You caught a few smirks and curious glances thrown your way, but you chose to ignore them and wait patiently for one of the bartenders to serve you. Drink in hand, you searched for a place where you might be able to watch the band play over the pulsing crowd pressed around the stage. Looking at one of the walls, you spotted a couple that seemed somehow familiar to you, the guy looking out of place in a navy blue polo and acid washed jeans, while the girl looked at least a little more conscious of her choice of attire in an outfit not dissimilar to your own.

Approaching more than a little nervously, you cleared your throat and practically yelled, “Hi!”

They moved practically in tandem, both their gazes swinging from the stage to where you stood in front of them, hand raised in greeting. The two of them scrutinized you for a moment before the girl smiled cordially and greeted you back while the guy offered you a cautiously restrained smile and a nod.

“Do you- You guys wouldn’t happen to know Eddie, would you?” You asked, leaning close to be heard. 

“Eddie? Oh, yeah, actually!” the girl responded, eyes growing big and smiling even wider at the mention of his name. “We went to school with him!”

Recognition dawned on you then, the picture you’d seen them in coming to mind. A group photo of him and others in green graduation gowns and caps, surrounded by a few other people his age, as well as a gaggle of kids all grinning wide at the camera. 

“How do you know Eddie?” the guy asked you, still watching you with curiosity. 

“I’m his roommate,” you answered, giving them your name. 

The two of them looked at each other before back at you, something unspoken passing between them and causing an embarrassed flush to start creeping up your neck. 

“So you’re the infamous roommate,” the guy said, not exactly covering his smirk with a drink from his cup before the girl gave him an exasperated look and punched him in the shoulder. 

“Dude!”

Your face fully heated now, your eyes widening as you stammered, “Wait, what do you mean?”

The song came to an end with a thunderous drum and guitar duet that drowned the girl out for a moment before she paused talking and waited for it to finish. Your skin prickled with anxiety, mind racing with possibilities of what exactly Eddie had told them about you. The crowd roared in the short interim between songs, Eddie’s voice calling out over the noise to thank them all for coming and asking if everyone was having a good time before the next song kicked up in a frenzy, Eddie growling the opening into the mic. 

Satisfied she might be heard now, the girl started again. 

“Ignore him, he’s just being an ass. It didn’t mean anything weird, it just meant that, like, we’ve heard so much about you and it’s nice to put a face to all that he’s described!” she explained, squeezing her eyes shut and making an annoyed face before backtracking. “That sounded bad too, sorry.”

“Good job, Robs.”

“Steve, I swear to God-” she grated out before addressing you again. “It really didn’t mean anything. It’s just Eddie has talked about you a lot recently and it’s kind of a first because he normally doesn’t talk about anyone except for like, himself, and it’s just really nice to meet you. Oh, I’m Robin, by the way, and this is Steve, sorry, should have introduced ourselves before I totally prattled on like that.”

You weren’t sure if you could blush any harder, but if you could, you were pretty sure steam would have been rising from your face like in one of those Saturday morning cartoons you used to watch. The way Robin talked about it, although almost incomprehensible at first, you could swear it sounded like Eddie practically talked about you like you were dating. Which, upon some very quick introspection, is probably what most anyone would assume if you explained it to one of your own friends. 

Doing your best to collect yourself, you asked if you could stand with them to watch the show, the two of them taking pity on you and agreeing readily. Taking the spot next to Steve, you could finally see up to where the band was rocking out on stage, Eddie front and center, singing as he played, and looking every inch the rockstar he made himself out to be. 

His long hair was already wild from the past fifteen minutes or so they’d been playing, some of it clinging to his sweat damp face, black tank top showing off the lean muscle of his arms shifting and moving as he played. Dark blue jeans with slashed knees covered his legs, chains dangling on the side from the belt loops and one of his bandanas hanging down in the back, swishing like a tail when he moved about on the stage. 

The look when combined with his flashy showmanship was making you feel like you wanted to eat him alive. 

Taking a swig of your drink, you let the burn of it down your throat ground you as you forced yourself to watch the rest of the band too so it wasn’t as obvious how entirely fixated on him you were. You tapped your foot along with the beat and nodded your head, a pale imitation of the others around you headbanging, but relaxed enough to get into the music. You were no expert on metal, but you could tell that the band was pretty decent and the audience definitely agreed, screaming and pulsing with an energy that had you getting a little lost in it too. 

At one point, you managed to catch Eddie’s eye, his already animated expression turning even more manic, grinning sharply before he turned his attention back to the mass of bodies beyond you and let loose on his guitar in a frantic burst of energy. It made you just a little smug that your presence might have affected him to that degree.

“You come to his shows a lot?” Steve asked you suddenly, leaning over to talk in your ear, catching you by surprise. 

You shook your head. 

“No, this is the first one I’ve been to,” you admitted with a sheepish smile. “Metal isn’t really my thing.”

Steve pulled back to give you a mildly disbelieving appraisal before ducking close again. 

“Wait really? I would have never guessed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shrugging as you told him, “Stole the shirt from his room. Didn’t really feel like standing out like a sore thumb.”

Steve laughed, a hint of sarcasm in it. “Oh, what, you mean like me?”

“You said it, not me!” you retorted good humoredly. “This your first show too?”

“Nah, we’ve been to a couple before, but we’re up in Chicago, so it’s a bit of a drive for us. We usually go stay in our hometown so we don’t have to drive back home too late,” he explained. 

You were about to ask why they never bothered to stay with Eddie at the apartment when Robin unwittingly interrupted. 

“You guys! Let’s go mosh!” Robin said excitedly from his side, eyes bright with mischief. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

You floundered a bit, trying to find a polite excuse. 

“No thanks, I’m good with staying here and observing,” you said, wincing at the idea of joining the pit. With your luck, you’d end up accidentally getting your lights punched out and end up with a black eye. “You guys should go though, tell me how it is.”

Steve looked as apprehensive as you felt but he sighed and nodded at her, holding his cup out to you. 

“Watch my drink?”

You nodded and took it, mouthing good luck at him. He replied with a silent thanks.

The two of them disappeared into the crowd and you leaned against the wall, taking some solace in being alone again, if only so you could stare at Eddie without worrying his friends could see the hungry way you watched him. Especially the few times when Eddie’s eyes found yours again and reflected that hunger back at you. 

---

After the set had finished and the band had taken their instruments off stage, you waited with Steve and Robin, speaking a little easier now that the only noise you had to compete with was the drone of the other people talking amongst themselves while they waited for the next performance to begin. Almost out of nowhere, Eddie appeared beside you, catching you by surprise and nearly making you drop your drink. He smiled apologetically and greeted his friends with hugs before he was whisking you all backstage to hang out away from the mass of people milling about the venue floor. He took you back into a cozy room that barely fit everyone, only big enough to house a few crowded couches and a sparsely stocked liquor cabinet that had already been raided by the looks of it, glasses and bottles on all available surfaces. 

Eddie swiftly introduced everyone, his band mates smirking a little when you were brought forward, making you blush again because apparently your roomie was blabbing about you to everyone he knew and it definitely made you feel self conscious despite yourself. But soon enough everyone was returning to their own private conversation and leaving the rest of you to settle into the few free seats left.

You kept close to Steve and Robin, the budding sense of companionship between you all like a security blanket in the unfamiliar scene, and they seemed more than happy to accept you into their little fold as well. Eddie was playing the social butterfly, flitting between groups, stopping by to join yours every so often, his happiness at seeing his friends more than obvious as they all recounted some of their misadventures to your amusement. 

You observed the easy way they all fell in together, despite the oddity of the different personalities that made up their little group, and that their bond was likely one that would withstand the test of time and distance as it already seemed to. Part of you wanted to ask about what exactly had brought them all together, but you thought that might be a question left for another time, in a less public space.

After another drink to settle your nerves, you couldn’t help but watch Eddie again as Steve and Robin got into an intense discussion that you’d lost the plot of a few minutes back. The alcohol was quickly to draw your attention to exactly how tight his jeans actually were, leaving little to the imagination, even if you didn’t need your imagination. And then you were leering at his muscles flexing in his arms as he moved them while he spoke, and then down to his hands and the rings glinting above his knuckles, evoking the feeling and memory of them pressed into your throat.

You stood abruptly, your chair sliding back loudly from the force of the motion and drawing more than a few pairs of eyes to find the source of the sound.

“Hey, I’ll be right back, bathroom,” you announced to the duo next to you, maybe a little too loudly, but not really caring to see if they’d heard you. 

Eddie however, had heard you, his head inclining just a bit as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, lips still moving as he spoke. Something charged passed between you, your unspoken invitation received if his smirk was anything to go off of. Turning on your heel, you headed out into the hallway and rushed towards the bathroom you’d seen earlier on your way to the greenroom, adrenaline mingling with the booze in your veins and making you lightheaded as you heard him excuse himself for a smoke. 

Finding the door, you pulled it open to find it already occupied by a girl bent over the sink as she snorted something off its surface before wiping at her nose and looking over her shoulder at you. You froze in place as she appraised you with unfocused eyes, the dim red lighting of the room casting deep shadows across her face. 

“Oh hey, there, sweetie. You want some?” she offered, swaying just a bit as she smiled dreamily at you. 

A warm body pressed up behind yours, hands resting on your shoulders and squeezing gently. 

“Hey, Rita, how’s it going?”

Rita’s gaze went to where Eddie stood behind you, her smile turning saccharine as she recognized him. 

“Eddie! Hey, baby, how’ve you been? You guys were amazing out there tonight!”, she slurred, vowels all drawn out. 

“Aw, thanks, sweetheart,” he said, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you back into the hallway a bit. “Hey, I think I heard Jimmy looking for you back there.”

Rita clicked her tongue and winced. 

“Shit, I better go see what that’s about. See ya, Eds,” she sighed exaggeratedly, her eyes dropping down to where his arm circled around you and then sliding back up to you with a slow wink. 

Before she was even out of sight, you were pulling him into the bathroom, barely locking the door behind you as you yanked him into a hurried kiss, swallowing down whatever words were on his tongue with your own. His hands grabbed your waist, holding you close while you nipped at his lip and whined impatiently. Grasping you by the jaw, he held you back just enough to look at your face, his eyes black in the low light.  

“You stole one of my shirts,” he observed, tugging at the neckline of it with his other hand. 

“Borrowed,” you corrected breathily. 

He huffed a dark laugh, brushing his thumb along your lips. 

“Whatever. The point is, Princess, that seeing you in my clothes is reaallly doing it for me and the idea of fucking you while you’re wearing my clothes is doing it for me even more and I wanna hear you scream my name while I’m doing you,” he told you, slipping his thumb into your mouth and pressing your tongue down with it. 

You felt dangerously close to passing out from the way your blood rushed south at his possessive sentiment, tongue heavy in your mouth even without the pressure of his thumb holding it down. Words were lost to you, leaving nodding as your only way to communicate how much you wanted him, your usual bite vanished in the wake of a new type of desperation he inspired in you now. 

Eddie smiled, all serpentine and knife’s edge as he brought your mouth back to his, tongue sliding into your mouth to replace the finger he withdrew, eyes still open as yours crossed and closed. Hands were grabbing your ass and pulling your hips flush with his, the beginnings of his erection pressed between your bodies as he sucked on the tip of your tongue, pulling a broken moan from deep within you. You buried your fingers into his shirt, holding onto him to try and keep yourself standing, unsure you’d be able to stay upright on your own. 

“God, look at you, finally being a good girl for me, huh? You should see yourself right now,” he rasped, an idea lighting up his eyes as he spun you around, your reflections staring back at you. 

You clenched at the sight, his hand taking its place at your jaw again, cupping it just so as he bent you forward over the sink, his hips pinning your hips to the counter. You felt like you were about to combust, sensory overload taking your arousal to a breath-stealing eleven as he grinned at you and yanked your pants and underwear down over your ass and rubbed his thumb against your pussy, spreading your slick around before pushing it inside you, mimicking what he’d done with your mouth. 

Biting back a cry, you tried to let your head drop, but he held it in place, forcing you to watch yourself as he pumped the thick digit in and out of you, wetness pooling around it and down your thighs.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted, switching his thumb out for his middle finger so he could rub your clit in tandem with each thrust. “Keep your eyes on the mirror, Princess. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on watching yourself as I take you apart and make you come. That’s right, just like that, good girl.”

The role reversal was intoxicating. There had been a few instances where you’d let Eddie have some control of the dynamic when you’d had sex, but you’d never fully submitted like this before, and combined with the praise Eddie was giving you, you could feel yourself begin to drift just a little from your body. You fought to keep yourself tethered to the moment, biting your lip hard enough to bleed, using the pain as an anchor to this reality. 

“Eddie-” you whined, your voice shrill and needy. “Please… Please.”

“What’s the matter, Princess? Use your words,” he cooed, curling his finger just right inside you, nudging the spot that made you push back harder against his hand. 

“Hhnh-Eddie, please. Need you. Need you inside me. Want you to use me, fuck me till I can’t see straight,” you begged, tears already blurring the edges of your vision. “Need it, Eds.”

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, releasing his hold on you to unfasten his belt and jeans. 

The loss of contact made you sob, your neediness winning out as tears slid down your cheeks. Eddie made a soft shushing sound as he pulled his pants down, the head of his cock brushing against your folds before pushing in just enough for your eyes to cross at the intrusion. 

Grabbing your hips again, he pulled you down his length slowly at first, your cunt still a bit too tight for anything more, your impatience costing you the immediate fullness you’d craved. You tried to push back faster but he held you in place tightly, giving you a well placed smack across your ass and making you yelp. 

“Not so fast, sweetheart. I know you’re eager and all, but you gotta let me enjoy this a little first, yeah?” Eddie chided, scolding you like one would a small child. “And remember, you need to watch, so no closing your eyes, okay Princess? Or else I’ll stop.”

Your lip trembled as you nodded, more tears streaming down your face. 

“Okay,” you answered, your voice so small you almost didn’t recognize it. 

“That’s my girl.”

You nearly collapsed under the weight of his praise. But just as he gave you almost too much with those words, he withheld just as much when he stayed stationary, cock buried inside you and unmoving as he looked down at where you were joined. Tongue dipping out to wet his lips, you watched him lean forward as he half pulled out of you, spit dripping from his mouth onto his dick before slipping back into you again. 

“You look so good when you take me like this, baby,” he murmured, eyes still fixated on the space between your bodies as he finally began to move, sawing his hips against yours, the slow drag of his cock making your back arch. “I love your tight little pussy so much, love how it feels like it was made for me.”

“Eddie,” you moaned, the last vowel drawn out and tight. 

The backs and insides of your thighs were drenched with your slick now, every measured stroke further coating you both. It was a divine sort of torture he was inflicting upon you, slowly ruining you with his maddeningly unhurried pace, while every gifted word of filth praise had your soul soaring higher and higher, until you were drifting back in that soft space outside your body once again. 

You could see both of you in the mirror but it took a moment to register that his hand was around your throat again, the slightest pressure against your windpipe making you swallow against it as he pulled back nearly all the way before slamming back into you, the clap of skin meeting skin accompanied by your grunt of surprise echoing around the small space. Your whole body lurched forward from the impact, shoving you forward further, but you remained upright with Eddie’s support and stayed there as he finally began to rail you like you’d needed. 

His teasing had stripped you down to your basest state, one of pure feeling and reaction, the sounds born of sensation slipping between unrestrained lips and filling the charged air. Eddie’s own pants and groans joined them, laced with more pretty compliments of utter filth that he gifted you with each plunge of his cock. 

“God, Princess, look at you. Can you see how fucking gorgeous you look right now? Sound so pretty too, like you just can’t get enough of it. You can’t, can you? Tell me-fuck!- Tell me how much you love it, wanna hear you say it,” he rasped, pulling you up from the sink and into his arms, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and sucking a mark into it. 

Your vision faltered from the position change and you whimpered his name, reaching behind you to hold his head as he kissed his way up the side of your throat. 

“Ah! It feels-,” you panted, struggling to find your words. “Feels so good, Eds. Feels incredible. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

“Keep talking, baby. Tell me more.”

It was difficult to find any thread of coherent thoughts, so you just babbled, your words slurred as you described how you felt. 

“You’re so deep in me. Can’t stop feeling you so deep. Always wanna be full of you, always. You make me feel so fucking good- hnnng- just like that-”

You craned your neck to look at him, half aware you were looking away from the mirror, but the urge to kiss him was irresistible and you pulled him to you anyways, planting an open mouthed kiss to the corner of his mouth until he was kissing you fully again. 

Eddie’s rhythm began to turn erratic, his hips starting to stutter a bit and you knew he was getting close. His grip on you tightened and you slipped a hand between your legs to play with your clit, pushing yourself closer to your climax. 

“Sweetheart, I- I’m getting close,” Eddie stammered, his breath coming out in uneven gasps that made you dizzy. 

“Me too,” you whispered. “Wanna come with you, Eddie.”

Leaning you back down, Eddie pressed your hands into the counter, his fingers lacing with yours as he kissed the back of your neck before hooking his chin over your shoulder, his labored breaths in your ear. The angle allowed him to hit even deeper inside of you, brushing your g-spot perfectly as the pressure at the base of your spine began to grow faster, a tidal wave on the horizon that you'd been waiting for with open arms. You could feel your body tense and start to shake as Eddie brought you to the edge, the edges of your vision starting to go hazy. 

“Come on, baby, come for me. Wanna hear you say my name as you come.”

That was all it took for you to feel like the floor had dropped out from beneath you as your orgasm slammed into you, ecstasy growing exponentially until it was near cataclysmic in its intensity, his name the prayer on your lips as your vision went white.

“Fuck! Eddie, I’m coming!” you sobbed, devastation rolling over you as you felt him follow you, his hips slam into yours once, twice, and then one final time as he buried himself deep inside of you and came, filling you completely. 

Your body was still twitching with the aftershocks as he laid himself carefully on top of you, the weight of him settling you back into your body as you both came down. His dick was still pulsing every so often inside of you, your pussy still contracting around it too, greedily milking him for every last drop, even though it was already starting to spill out the sides. It was fucking filthy, the feeling of it seeping in between your still conjoined bodies, and you couldn’t think of anything you liked more in that moment, messy and nasty and gross, and you loved it. 

You loved it because it was him who’d done it. 

You loved-

You inhaled fast and sharp at the realization, the tears that had slowed after your climax fillled your eyes again, dropping to the plastic pressed under your cheek. Swallowing hard, you untangled one hand from his to swipe them away, trying to bury the emotions that had flooded into your chest and begged for attention, pleading to be shared with the one who elicited them from you. 

“You okay?”

Eddie pushed up from your back gently, dropping a too chaste kiss onto your shoulder as he did, not knowing how it made your heart do vicious somersaults again and again in your chest, the absolute bastard. Blinking the tears away again, you turned to look up at him as best you could and smiled. 

“Yeah. Yeah of course,” you rasped, voice beyond wrecked. “Not excited about facing everyone after screaming your name like a goddamn banshee only a room away, but yeah, I’m great.”

You weren’t quite sure he believed you. His expression just a little scrutinizing before he grinned back at you and chuckled. 

“I mean I’m pretty sure they all knew what we were about to do when you announced you were about to go to the bathroom and I oh so unsubtly followed. And if that didn’t tip them off, Rita sure as fuck did.”

You bit back another moan when he slipped out of you, the feeling of his come slipping out of you making your eyes cross.

“Shit,” he cursed, grabbing a wad of toilet paper he knelt behind you to try his best to clean the mess that had dripped into panties, before dabbing at your fucked out cunt and the mess on your thighs. “Your underwear and jeans might be fucked.”

You snorted and pushed yourself up and off the sink, testing your legs. Deciding you were probably steady enough by now to not fall on your face, you stood up fully, tossing a look down at him over your shoulder, lifting an eyebrow at him expectantly. Smiling again, he tossed the used tissue into the toilet and grabbed the waistband of your bottoms and began to pull them up. Just before pulling them over your ass, he bit one cheek quickly, enough to make you yelp before yanking your clothes up and over for you to fix. 

“Asshole,” you groused, stifling your smile at the playful gesture. 

“You love it.”

Love more than that, you thought woefully, your hidden smile losing some of its mirth. 

---

Just as you were finishing fixing your appearances, a loud knocking came from the door, instantly warming your cheeks with embarrassment. 

“Hey Eddie, if you guys are done trying to drown out the band, can you hurry up? Some of us need to take a leak and I don’t fancy doing it in the alley,” a masculine voice called, good humor coloring the request. 

Eddie dragged a hand over his face and nodded unseen to them. 

“There are other bathrooms in this place, ya know!”

“And there are other places to fuck around in, but I still gave you time to bust a nut, now hurry up! ‘Sides, your friends seem like they’re ready to go anyways.”

Unlocking and opening the door, you fixed your heckler with an unimpressed look and gestured for him to move. Grabbing Eddie’s hand, you pushed past the guy and ignored his bewildered expression, leading the way down the hall and focused on steeling yourself for the inevitable sly looks you’d be receiving and not on the continuous stream of you love him’s playing on repeat in your head. 

Returning to the green room, you dropped Eddie’s hand and avoided looking at anyone directly as you made a beeline for your abandoned chair next to Steve. Grabbing a half full glass of something brown on the table in front of them, you swallowed it all in one go, grimacing against the wretched burn, not particularly caring whose drink it might have been. Eddie stood behind you, propping himself against the back of the chair and making the hair stand on the back of your neck at his close proximity. You needed to get out of there fast, get your head on straight and really think everything through, before you ended up doing something stupid. 

“There you guys are!” Robin greeted, smirking as she looked between you two, earning a wink from Eddie and a wince from you. “We were getting worried you’d Irish Goodbye’d us.”

“Nah, no way, would never do that to you guys. Just needed some fresh air,” Eddie excused, no one buying the obvious lie, Steve even rolling his eyes and getting a poke in the ribs. “Sticks said you guys were talking about heading out?” 

“Yeah, we promised my parents we’d try to get in by midnight, and we’ve already pushed it by staying this late already,” she said, looking more than a little apologetic. “But! We’re staying till Sunday morning and we can stop back in for lunch if you’re free then?”

The three of them continued to chat, making plans as you sat there in the middle of it all, too stuck in your own head to really process what was being said while you were trying to formulate your escape. It wasn’t until you heard your name that you came back to the present and saw the three of them staring at you expectantly. 

“Sorry, what?”

“We were asking if you wanted to come Sunday too,” Steve supplied helpfully, smiling at you. 

You blinked at him before looking up at Eddie, the hopeful look in his eyes making you swallow thickly. 

“Oh, I’m- I don’t know. I still have some exam prep I need to do-”

“I’ll buy your lunch,” Eddie interjected quickly before you could finish your excuse. “C’mon, sweetheart, it’ll be fun!”

You knew you should say no, that you needed to put space between the two of you before that hope in his eyes grew into something unmanageable, for both of your sakes. But before you realized what you were doing, you were giving a half hearted sigh of exasperation and agreeing, earning a cheer from the three of three of them and a shoulder squeeze from Eddie. Your skin felt warm from where he’d touched you.

This was a mistake. 

You’d made a terrible mistake and this was going to end so badly. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him this little bit of happiness. 

Even if you knew you were going to break his heart sooner rather than later. 

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

Taglist: @dumbslxtclub, @tlclick73, @prestinalove, @unfocused81

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfiction #roommates series

[jaimeslanisters]

the pawn in every lover's game (part ten)

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

When you’re ten, your father sends you to King's Landing to befriend a princess and woo a prince. A lioness growing up amongst dragons is a dangerous thing indeed.

crossposted on ao3 masterlist word count: 6.4k notes: late update which is 100% on me so my bad! but anyways, a lovely and beautiful anon made a playlist for this fic so give it a listen! here's a nice reprieve after the drama of the past chapters (:

Once, as children in your library, you had tried to convince Aemond to read the tale of Lady Jonquil and Florian the Fool. He had scoffed at you - it wasn’t the usual history or philosophy the two of you poured over together. It was a silly romance story, nothing to do with the important matters of state he was obsessed with understanding, but you had pressed it upon him to read.

You can still remember pushing your book of songs over his own book about the maesters of the Citadel, determined to present your case. ‘It’s not quite as serious as everything you like to read but it says something about men, I feel. Ser Florian may have been a fool but he was wise where it counted.’

‘Singers and bards are invested in us thinking that, my lady, but I don’t think it’s true,’ he had responded, rolling his eyes, but he had taken your book and read it. He had never once talked about it with you though, simply returning the book to you the next day and distracting you from asking him about it by dragging you into a debate over whether or not Lann the Clever was the bastard son of Floris the Fox or even Rowan Gold-Tree, a topic sure to rile any Westerlander, leaving you to completely forget about silly love songs as you had argued over your ancestor’s own ancestry.

‘I am as great a fool as ever lived, and as great a knight’ Ser Florian had told his lady when he had crowned her. ‘All men are fools and all men are knights where women are concerned.’

With as much love as you have for the songs, you never could quite believe that line, could never make it quite click in your head.

But now, with the screaming all around you, as Aemond stands at your side, arm in arm and having crowned you with a crown of bloodied roses, you wonder if he’s remembering the songs as well as you are, if he’s realizing that maybe the singers were right in some respect.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” You ask, pushing away your thoughts of the Lady Jonquil and her fool of a knight, in favor of looking over him anxiously. He’s bloodstained but you can’t tell how much of it is his and how much of it belongs to his opponent. His dark armor hides most of it, preventing you from picking out any clear wounds or injuries, and, out in the open like this, you can’t glide your hands over him to try and feel any out.

Aemond looks down at you, his eyes soft as he takes in your worry. “No, not hurt. Bruises here and there, some cuts and scrapes that my mother will drive herself insane worrying about, but nothing serious.”

You sigh in relief, leaning against him slightly, wishing you could wrap your arms around him and pull him close. You allow yourself a moment there, pressed against the hard armor, before you pull back, conscious of the eyes of all of King’s Landing watching the two of you. There’s a flicker of disapproval on Aemond’s face when he notices, his jaw tightening just a tick, and he shoots a baleful glare at the crowd.

It reminds you all too much of the way little Loren’s face would scrunch if anyone tried to pull his blanket away from him, right before he let out loud screams and wails that sent the entire household running to his side, and the odd comparison makes you laugh out loud.

Aemond’s brow furrows but his gaze softens once more as he watches your obvious glee.

“My father will be chomping at the bit to arrange a meeting with your mother,” you say after a while, smiling fondly as you look back toward the crowd. The royal box is emptying out and you know you only have moments before both of your families descend upon the two of you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to secure an… understanding for right now. At least, until Cerelle’s marriage is public knowledge and Tyshara and Lord Tarly announce their own betrothal.”

Aemond huffs, showing a flash of impatience that makes you beam. “Hasn’t there always been an understanding? It’s been his and your goal ever since you came to the capitol.” You blink, confused for a moment, before shame and horror blossom on your face as you realize he knows. His eye watches you, openly amused, and he leans down, mouth by your ear, voice so low you can barely hear him over the still-roaring crowd. “You’re clever, my love, but it’s only in recent years that you’ve become skilled at deception and manipulation. I’m afraid that I was onto you right from the start.”

Heat explodes in your cheeks and you pull away, gaping up at him openly. He smirks at you, infuriatingly smug, and, suddenly uncaring of the eyes around you, you open your mouth. To say what - you’re not entirely sure. A denial? An explanation? An apology? No matter what you plan to say, you still want to say something but you’re cut off when Aegon all but slams into his brother, knocking him from your grasp, and sending the two of them skidding slightly in the dirt.

“I’m a rich, rich, rich man,” Aegon crows, arm flung around his younger brother as he gives him a firm shake, looking elated. Right behind him, Daeron is excitingly bouncing on his heels, looking like a little boy in all of his joy.

“Haven’t you always been a rich man?” Aemond snipes back, no real bite behind his words, and Aegon merely grins wider, looking impossibly pleased as if it was he himself who had fought and defeated all the opponents his brother had faced.

“Yes but now I’m a richer man,” he corrects, even as the rest of his family arrives to crowd around you all, forming a wall between you and the rest of the world. “That was family wealth, brother. This is personal wealth now - mine entirely.”

You watch them, torn between laughing at their interaction or panicking at the fact that Aemond knows, before Helaena tugs on your hand to call your attention. When you turn to her, you jerk back slightly as she reaches up to your face with a handkerchief, wiping at your chin gently. When she pulls it away, you blink at the blood staining the white fabric.

Aemond’s hand. When he grabbed me earlier.

It should horrify you but instead, something in you roars with satisfaction. In front of all of King’s Landing, he had claimed you and he had crowned you and he had marked you. It calms you but only barely.

He wouldn’t do this if he didn’t care for me too. If he didn’t think I was honest you try to reassure yourself but it’s still difficult to convince yourself of it. A part of you wants to be indignant at the idea he could judge you for seeking him out in marriage - the two of you had always agreed about the importance of marrying for your house rather than personal pleasure. You had just been lucky that for you, those two desires managed to be one and the same.

A larger part, however, is just scared. You can still remember, plain as day, the little boy who had seemed baffled that you wanted to spend time with him, that you even cared to speak to him. Aemond is grown now, more confident and sure of himself than he had ever been as a child, but you don’t want to hurt him. You never have.

You need him to know that. To know that you’ve always been honest in wanting him and only him.

Helaena knocks you with her shoulder and you startle, looking at her with wide eyes. She smiles, soft and gentle as always. “Don’t get lost in there,” she says, reaching up to tap at the side of your head.

You manage a smile. “I won’t, princess,” you promise, fingers itching for something to grab and squeeze in your nerves.

She eyes you and you know that she can see right through you.

You wonder who else can.

There’s a slight commotion and you look up in time to see the Queen descend upon Aemond. Unlike you, she’s well within her rights to brush her hands over him, searching for any wounds that he might be hiding. She looks equal parts relieved, exasperated, and proud as she crowds her middle son and, though you’re too far to perfectly hear her quiet voice over the still rowdy crowd, you can only imagine that she’s scolding and congratulating Aemond.

You only get a moment to watch their interaction when someone drags you into their chest in a facsimile of a hug and you let out a loud yelp. Aemond immediately turns at the sound, hand flying to his sword, only to have to force himself to relax when he catches sight of who it is.

“Your prince did well, sweetling,” Jason murmurs in your ear, giving you a tight squeeze, and you swat him away, fighting down a pleased smile. When you turn to face your father, he reaches up to touch the crowd on your head and, when he pulls his hand away, his fingers are tinged with red. “A Queen of Love and Beauty crowned twice in one tourney by two different men. You’re in rare company now, sweet girl. Not even Lady Jonquil can claim that honor.”

You laugh, feeling your cheeks go hot. Behind him, Tyland walks up, having been speaking with Lord Ormund. Even he looks victorious. “Are you talking about how our little lady and the Dragon Prince have ensured that the singers will be well-fed for the next few months?”

“Hardly,” you retort, knowing as you say it that it’s a lie. Victor and Aemond both crowning you, a Queen of Love and Beauty twice over, the Dragon killing the Fox. Individually, they were all things that would invite the singers to write their songs. Combined? You’d be lucky if it ever stopped. The bards must have been frothing at the mouth during the tourney and now that they’ve been given their perfect story, there is little doubt in your mind that they will take every advantage.

You wonder if centuries in the future if the songs would still mention you and Aemond like they mention Jonquil and Florian. You wonder what they would say.

I hope they’re beautiful songs, you think, feeling a girlish sense of joy spread throughout you, something you haven’t felt in quite some time.

“Now,” Jason says, grinning as he squeezes you again. “I have to speak to the Queen. See about arranging a meeting.”

“Not tomorrow,” you warn. “Helaena is to spend the day preparing for the wedding and I’m to assist her with it. It’ll have to be after the wedding.”

Your father laughs. “I doubt we’ll have a problem if we postpone a little, sweetling. Like Lord Tarly, Prince Aemond strikes me as an exceedingly patient man.”

You bite your lip as you think about the look in Aemond’s eye at the moment after he had crowned you - when he looked as if he wanted to devour you.

No, father, you think as you watch Jason walk to the Targaryen princes and their mother, his gait slow and confident like a predator that has finally cornered his prey. I don’t think Aemond is very patient at all.

“What did the court say?” You finally ask, tearing your eyes away from them to meet your uncle’s watchful gaze. “Positive? Negative? Will I be tarred and feathered during the feast tonight?”

He sighs, rubbing at his beard. “Excited, to say the least. There’s little the court loves more than scandals such as this one. This will sustain them for some time and I wouldn’t be surprised if some especially nosy ladies reach out to organize teas or take you out riding and hawking just to try and pry some gossip from you. I’d keep an eye out for it.”

You smile, shaking your head. You open your mouth to ask for more detail when there’s a screeching wail, loud enough to reach your ears but not quite loud enough to call the attention of the rest of the grounds. You look over and freeze, feeling as if someone has poured ice water over you, dowsing and chilling you completely.

Two servants stand awkwardly to the side as a woman sobs over Victor Florent’s body, her dress soaking in blood, staining its delicate blue beyond saving. A man is holding her, pulling her back, his own cheeks streaked with tears as he stares with despair down at the broken body of what once was a knight.

And Erren Florent stands, almost perfectly still, eyes boring into Aemond and his family.

His brother and good sister you realize as you watch their grief, your stomach twisting into knots. For all his faults, they must have loved him something fierce.

You want to look away, want to look and see anything else, but your body won’t let you. Is it penance? Is it a poor attempt at an apology?

You crush the thought as easily as it arises. Not an apology. Never an apology. This was a tourney. This was the melee. Men died as easily as flies and Aemond had been well within his rights to kill Victor. If it hadn’t been Victor, it would have been Aemond and his life is worth all of the lives of the entire Florent line. You’d rather have to personally rip their House out from their seat of power, root and stem and seed, than have to face what could have been today.

No. Not an apology.

Guilt.

If Victor Florent was the only victim, you would sleep easy. You would sleep happily. But he had a family. You didn’t care about Erren Florent - the man deserves to be knocked down like this, deserves to see his ambitions lying pitifully in the dirt - but his brother and good sister were innocent. Their only crime was loving their family.

You don’t even want to imagine the state you would be in if you lost one of your siblings. If Helaena or even Daeron or Aegon had paid the ultimate price.

If Aemond.

As much as you don’t want to think about it, the thought rises in your mind and you know what you would feel, what you would want, if you were in the position of Victor Florent’s loved ones.

Because of that, you turn back to your uncle, finally pulling yourself free from the Florents’ show of grief. “Send them our condolences,” you say, voice quiet but firm. Hardened. There can be no room for doubt. “But see if we can pay a servant in their party to loosen their tongue. If they decide they want more than our well wishes… We will move from there.”

Tyland watches you, careful and analytical. He’s looking into you, peering around as if he’s looking for something. You meet his gaze with determination, lifting your head up, and eventually, your uncle smiles. It’s a gentle smile even as his eyes flash with satisfaction and pride. “Of course, little one,” he replies, holding his arm out for you to take. You take it and he does you the favor of ignoring the slight tremor in your body. “Your will is my command.”

I am a Lion of the Rock and foxes cannot frighten me.

——————————–

Unlike the dinner before, you dress in your house colors tonight, shining in a gown of deep maroon with veins of an even darker red embroidered on the thick fabric. A corset forged out of gold, more decorative than serving any true purpose, cinches at your waist, a lion’s head embossed onto the delicate metal.

No one is looking at your dress, however. They hadn’t looked at your dress when you had entered or when you had bowed before the royal family. Even when you sit down to eat, your family all around you, your cousins and distant uncles don’t look at your dress or even your face.

Instead, they all stare up at your crown. You’d been near obsessively careful with it on the journey back from the grounds and, when your handmaids had been helping you dress and fix your hair, you had insisted on being the one to handle it. When one of them had suggested cleaning it, to ‘make the gold shine, m’lady’, you had had to bite your tongue to hold back from lashing out in anger.

Gold isn’t the only color of my House, you had said, firmly and without room for doubt or misinterpretation. I mean to do them both honor.

The crown of golden, bloodied flowers sits on your head, pristine and perfect. It’s a clear message. It’s a loud message.

When you had greeted the royal family and Aemond had seen that you were still wearing it, he had very nearly smiled, his face brightening up - not to the point that anyone else would recognize but so glaringly obvious to you. The Queen and the Lord Hand had personally congratulated you and Aegon and Daeron had even toasted you. Their acceptance of you as a Queen of Love and Beauty along with your clear preference for one crown over another has essentially tied you to Aemond publicly even if no betrothal has been announced.

An understanding, indeed You think to yourself.

It was truly no wonder that the eyes of the court stayed focused on your crown rather than you yourself.

There was one member of the court, however, who was not staring up at the red and gold flowers. Instead, Erren Florent was staring right at you.

There’s no expression on his face. Not grief, not rage, not even annoyance. His face is blank, an expressionless mask, and it was all focused on you. He sits alone. His son and good daughter must have sat out to mourn in peace but he had come.

He had come to watch you.

His gaze is heavy, oppressive, but you refuse to let him see you flinch. Instead, you straighten up in your seat, throwing your hair back, and meet his eyes coolly. His gaze sharpens, cold and cruel, and you know that if he could, he would leap across the throne room and slit your throat himself.

But he can’t. Not here, in a room where the most powerful people were allied to you. It must rankle his nerves, agitate his very soul.

How hateful, you think, to have to watch your son die while the world cheers around you.

You’d feel pity if you didn’t already dislike the man. You’d feel guilty about his pain if you weren’t cautious about the look in his eyes; the wild, crazed, desperate look.

You and Aemond have made your beds and burned down any chance for anything resembling friendliness with the Florents. Now you would have to lie in it, in the ashes of what the two of you had done.

Erren finally looks away, turning his gaze to some poor well-wisher that’s approached him to offer his condolences, and you join your cousins’ conversation. Still, you remain sitting straight, your posture so perfect that you’re sure that your old septa is somewhere beaming with pride, lest he turn his stare back on you.

Your cousins are predictably talking about the tourney - they’re gossiping about the melee and all of the handsome knights that, while unable to win the event, had proved themselves to be skilled and capable. A few of the more confident ones scheme about how to bump into the knights to see if they could manage to coax a dance or even a tea out of them. All of them keep cooing over your crown, most of them tactfully ignoring the blood staining the golden roses.

Surprisingly enough, however, Jocasta is the only one to bring it up. “Our House colors,” she quietly murmurs, still skittish under your gaze. “The Gods must have blessed Prince Aemond so he could be the one to give you this crown.”

She doesn’t meet your eyes but you smile warmly at her regardless. She’s a sweet girl, after all.

The actual feasting part of the feast wraps up fairly quickly and, when the dancing begins, you excuse yourself from your family and walk up to the royal table. This time, no one stops you and no one gets in your way and, soon enough, you’re sliding into the chair next to Helaena, smiling at her and Aemond both.

An awkward silence descends on the three of you - you’re not entirely sure on how to act now, not in this new reality where your and Aemond’s intentions have all been laid bare. Hours away from any Targaryen have calmed your anxieties - he’d never have crowned you if he hated you for the truth - but now you’re unsure how to approach talking to them, unsure if you should bring up the rather big elephant in the room.

“Are you ready to spend all of tomorrow in prayer?” You ask Helaena, grasping for a topic to talk about, and she sighs in response, her hands coming up to play with the ends of her hair.

“It should be a nice reprieve, to be honest,” she says after a moment. “It’ll be quiet. Relaxing.”

You nod, finding that you agree. “It will be nice to get away from the chaos of the rest of the wedding. Pity that we’ll miss the archery event though - Tygett seems pretty confident that he’ll win in that event.”

“Is he a skilled archer or are Lannisters naturally inclined to succeed when there’s gold on the line?” Aemond asks drolly and you shoot him a glare, ignoring how your cheeks warm when he chuckles at your dark look.

“I don’t say why we would be,” you say in your most haughty voice, tapping your fingers against the table. “We’re already richer than every other House in Westeros.”

“There is no limit to Lannister pride or ambition,” he quips back and you preen. You had heard the phrase lobbed at your House in the past, usually used to insult or scorn, but coming from Aemond, it feels more like a compliment than it ever has in the past.

A companionable silence falls over the three of you and you turn your attention back to the throne room, watching as the court mingles. This late into the night, people are slowly drowning deeper and deeper in their cups and you begin to wonder how anything ever gets done. It’d be easier to list everyone who isn’t drinking and it’s nothing short of a miracle that people are able to wake up in the morning in order to even attend the wedding festivities.

You’ve never particularly liked alcohol and usually could only tolerate a goblet or two of wine before begging off and asking for water. Aegon seemed to be somewhat invested in getting you drunk at least once but, as you watch your father flirt with a coquettish Lady Tyrell as her increasingly annoyed husband stands at her side and watches, you wonder why anyone bothered.

“If the feasts are already like this, I can hardly imagine how the actual wedding is going to go,” you grumble and Helaena laughs.

“Aegon will start drinking tonight and he won’t stop until after the wedding. I’ll thank the Seven if he manages to make it down the aisle.” She says, amusement evident, and you turn to smile at her even as your stomach squeezes at her response.

She’s fine with it, you remind yourself, wishing that the reminder would bring you any comfort. He’ll keep to his practices and she’ll keep to hers. It’s duty. There’s honor in doing your duty.

Aemond sighs. “Aegon will be there, Helaena. I’ll personally ensure it.”

“No choice,” she responds, almost chirping. “No choice at all.”

You watch her, heart beating fast in your chest, before she shakes her head firmly. She blinks hard before rising to her feet.

“I’m tired,” Helaena says, not sounding very tired at all. “Shall we leave?”

“So early?” You ask, looking over her carefully as you rise to your feet, suddenly anxious that she’s grown uncomfortable and you haven’t noticed. “Should I inform the Queen?”

Helaena shakes her head again, smiling. “No. I’m sure Mother will understand - getting an early jump on prayer and contemplation and all of that. Perhaps we should head to the gardens, actually. Enjoy the night air.”

After a moment, you nod, glancing over to see if you can spot the Queen regardless. She’s with her father, speaking to Lord Borros Baratheon, her emerald dress making her stand out even deep in the crowd like she is. “Of course, Helaena. I imagine the gardens are lovely right now.”

“Either way, I’ll inform Mother. I’ll also let Lord Lannister know as well, my lady,” Aemond says, glancing at you, and you quickly thank him, giving him a small smile as he nods his head at you.

“Join us after, brother,” Helaena calls out after Aemond has already made his way down to the ground, and, though her brother made no indication that he heard her words, she beams as if he’s already agreed. She turns to you, light entering her eyes and making her seem more like the little girl the two of you used to be rather than the women the two of you were. “Shall we go?” She asks, holding out her arm for you to take, and, after a moment, you loop your arm with her, grinning.

——————————–

The gardens are, predictably, empty with not even a token servant wandering its grounds. The moment you step into the cool night air, Helaena pulls free from you and, tugging at her skirts from the side to pull up her gown, darts into the maze-like hedges, her long silver hair streaming in the air behind her.

“Helaena!” You call out, immediately chasing after her, but the princess only laughs, delighted. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the garden are her giggles, punctuated by your cursing at your own gown as it snags and snares on every stray piece of foliage you pass. Mercifully, she finally slows to a stop, near the paved terrace that overlooks the rolling waters of Blackwater Bay.

Helaena sits, perched on the wall that separates the gardens from the rocky cliffs that jut out beneath it, face turned towards the waters. Slowing to a halt, you stop next to her, trying your best to calm your breathing from the sprint she had dragged you on.

“Look,” She says after a moment, pointing out towards the rocky outcrops in the middle of the bay, far in the distance. You follow her finger, eyes straining against the dark, until it lights up like day.

There’s a brilliant burst of flame, bright and hot enough that you can feel the heat crash against your body as if it was a physical wall ramming into you. A massive body, larger than anything could have the right to be, crashes into the water, sending up a massive wave that could swallow most ships you’ve seen whole.

Vhagar is hunting.

You watch, mesmerized with wonder and fear, as she rises up into the sky, clutching a whale in her claws. It’s a colossal thing, big enough to seemingly drag Vhagar down back to its home in the deep, but the Queen of All Dragons is stronger than that. The leviathan is writhing in her grasp, fighting with all its might to escape, but Vhagar’s claws are longer and sharper than any spear any man could ever hope to hold. She curls her talons in and you can hear the whale’s wail even from miles away, can see the rivers of blood that fall through the air like rain.

Vhagar flies up, up, and up into the sky where even her tremendous size can appear small, disappearing into cloud cover. Even in the dark, however, the moonlight casts her shadow and she looks monstrous, even hidden from view how she is. You watch until you can’t anymore until she finally disappears into the inky darkness of the night.

“Where does she feed?” You ask Helaena, hands coming down to the wall so you can lean, pressing deeper in the cool air as if you’ll be able to see her if you stretch.

“At an island deeper in,” Aemond’s voice answers and you nearly topple over in your shock, spinning around to see him smirking at your surprise. Next to him, Daeron is pinned under Aegon’s arm, both seemingly trapped by his older brother and also being the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground. Aegon, for his part, looks mighty pleased, a wine bottle clutched in his hand.

Aemond walks closer, standing by your side and looking out towards the Blackwater. His eyes are focused, narrowed, and you get the idea he knows exactly where he’s looking at. “It’s a small island, past the spears of the merling king. From what I can tell, it used to be covered with trees but she’s razed most of it down to make her roost.”

“She’s far too big for the Dragonpit I suppose,” you reply, curling your fingers against the stone.

“She was too big a hundred years ago,” he hums. “Vhagar could fit - if she had any desire to. Once Balerion the Black Dread passed, she never returned to it. The island is her home now.”

You smile sadly at the thought of Vhagar leaving the Dragonpit forever once her brother had passed. Perhaps it hadn’t been her size that had driven her out but rather her grief. It seemed strange that such a creature, as ancient and destructive as she was, could feel such emotion, such heartbreak, but somehow that little detail has warmed you up to her more than anything else ever had in the years since Aemond has claimed her.

After a moment, you glance up at her rider. “How do you summon her?” You ask, feeling slightly embarrassed that the simple question had never once occurred to you in the near decade since Driftmark. Vhagar had always been an abstract figure in your mind - the prize that Aemond had bought with his eye. You had never stopped to think about the simpler details of her bond with the prince.

Aemond, noticing your sudden curiosity, gives you a half smile. “She always knows. My lady Vhagar will come flying if she senses I have a need for her. She’s always in my mind like I’m always in hers.”

You frown, looking back over the bay. Vhagar is no doubt far from here now but you can still see her in your mind: a massive beast that took up the entire sky. You wonder if, even as deep in her meal as she surely must be, she can still feel Aemond’s presence in her mind. “How does that work? What if you’re chilly one night and offhandedly think that you’d fancy a fire to keep you warm? Would Vhagar come bearing down on us and crush the Red Keep beneath her?” You question jokingly, laughing slightly.

“A dragon is not something you can call accidentally. You can try to summon one but it’s not some dog that’ll come running at your beck and call. Dragons will only serve those they want to serve,” his words are heavy with intent and, sharply inhaling, you meet his ever-watchful eye.

I’m afraid that I was onto you right from the start.

“Was I really that obvious?” You breathe out, heart pounding in your chest. Your voice is low, quiet enough so that the other Targaryen siblings, lost in their own conversation, cannot hear you, but he can hear you perfectly. The look gleaming in his eye tells you all you need to know. “How long have you known?”

He smirks in response, looking rather like the cat that finally caught his prey. “Since you arrived. Lannisters notoriously stick together and daughters of the Rock are usually treasured rather than shipped off. If your uncle wanted company from his family, he would have sent for some distant cousin or another and not his ten-year-old niece. You only would have come to marry and, with your family pushing for you to be Helaena’s companion, there were really only two real targets.”

You sigh, feeling your cheeks flush in shame and embarrassment. “Are you angry?” Do I need to apologize? Do you want me to spill out my heart here?

“After I got over the fact that a pretty girl actually wanted to spend time with me, I wanted to ignore you, but Mother made me promise that I’d give you a chance,” he says easily and you openly wince, feeling a pang of regret shoot through you. “You were difficult to avoid, however, always showing up at the library when I was studying, always willing to talk to me about whatever book you were reading. It wasn’t hard for you to worm your way into being my friend.”

You ruefully smile, shaking your head. “It wasn’t as if it was a chore, my prince,” you respond, the truth coming to you easily. “If I didn’t like you for you rather than the prince my father wanted me to claim, I wouldn’t have read nearly as many books as I did. I certainly wouldn’t have given you the sapphire necklace. That… It was the first gift my father ever gave me himself. During all my earlier name day celebrations, his gift would be mixed in with the ones from everyone else and sometimes he’d look as surprised as I was at whatever it was he had given me. I’m sure his old steward was the one always picking it out for him. But that necklace… It’s tradition, you see, in House Lannister, to give a maiden jewelry when she begins her search for a husband.”

“And you gave it to me,” Aemond says, no question in his voice - only the absolute truth of it.

“And I gave it to you,” you echo. “At the time, it was the only thing of value I could think to give you. That and my word. A promise from a Lannister is as good as any jewel.”

Aemond laughs at that. “Your word is as good as any jewel, my lady. Better even.”

You grin, relief washing over you when you realize he isn’t upset. “Perhaps. Maybe Lannister words aren’t worth as much as I say but all of us take our debts very seriously and your debt is mine.”

“And yours is mine,” he replies, as steady as the Red Keep itself.

I am yours and you are mine.

Before you can say anything, however, the too-familiar call of your nickname calls your attention and you look over to see Aegon waving his bottle of wine in the air, narrowly missing smacking poor Daeron in the skull with it.

“Brother! My shining Lady of Lannister! Come join us for a drink!” He shouts as if you’re across the Blackwater Bay itself rather than standing only a few scant feet away.

You can practically hear Aemond’s frown in his voice. “‘Join us’? You’re the only one drinking.”

Aegon laughs gleefully. “Come now, Aemond, we should be celebrating your victory! You may not be able to claim the true prize yet without bringing an entire kingdom down on our heads for defiling a lady of the Rock but you can drink!”

“He just wants to congratulate you,” Daeron rushes to say, no doubt recognizing the stormy look on Aemond’s face after Aegon’s less-than-subtle insinuation. “You’ve won a great victory and brought yourself much honor.”

“The hand will hold the iron,” Helaena sings even as she kneels down on the ground to play with a passing millipede.

“If you do not want a drink, though, it'd make you much more enjoyable to be with,” Aegon continues, shaking his head as he moves closer to you and Aemond. “Then your Queen of Love and Beauty will drink for you.”

You huff, sidestepping the bottle stretched out in an offer and gamely holding yourself back from smacking him away when his free hand reaches for your crown. “I thank you, Prince Aegon, but I’d rather not enter a full day of prayer and contemplation tomorrow sick from drink. I’m supposed to be praying for a blessed marriage with your sister after all.”

Aegon scowls at the reminder and you instantly wish you had chosen a different word to call Helaena. She’s his sister and his betrothed. Both are true no matter how much we all wish they weren’t. “If you’re praying for children for us, there’s nothing prayer could accomplish than a cask of the finest Arbor Gold could not.”

“Enough of that,” Aemond snaps, no doubt displeased with his brother’s blasphemy. “No one else will be drinking.”

“Daeron had a drink,” Aegon replies mutinously and Daeron’s eyes go comically wide. You laugh at his almost bug-eyed stare as you sink to the ground next to Helaena, sensing that Aegon will not allow anyone to leave before his fun is finished. Helaena beams at you as she grabs the millipede, bringing it up uncomfortably close to your face to show you.

“I had one,” Daeron hotly protests, no doubt missing how his older brothers, despite their discord, exchange amused glances at his overly forceful defense. “And you made me do it.”

Aegon grins. “I don’t know, little brother… You did trip on a rock on our way here.”

“Because you tripped,” Daeron shoots back.

“Mother would be disappointed to see how her baby dragon’s turned out,” Aemond says, voice as serious as if he’s discussing policy with the Lord Hand. “She had such high hopes for you.”

“But I-”

“I saw him wobble a little just now,” Helaena volunteers from the ground, not even looking up from the millipede crawling all over her hands.

Daeron whines, sounding like a little boy rather than the near-grown man that he was. “I didn’t!”

You grin up at him, shaking your head. “It’s alright, my prince. As long as you can hold your drink better than Prince Aegon, the Queen would find no fault within you.”

“There’s not much hope of that if he’s like this after one,” Aemond replies, quick as a whip, and even he cracks a smile as Daeron loudly protests his innocence.

The five of you stay in the gardens long after Aegon finishes his wine, basking in the glow of the moonlight.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #apologies for the longer read more i didn't know where to chop it! #but anyways i love the targtowers sm <3

[mushroomly]

Butterflies

Synopsis: every time Shinobu looks at you, one of the workers at the Butterfly Estate, you get butterflies…but little do you know, she does as well!

a/n: just a little treat while I wait for the poll for Stressed Out to finish (update: comparatively it’s not so little when looking at other fics I’ve written; I think the beginning is almost as long as some of them lol) Tagging: @kyojurismo, @ahashiraswife (figured you’d want to see this from your interest in what I shared)

Tws: none

she/her pronouns 1.2k words

—————————————————————————————————— The insect Hashira had, though she tried to deny it to both herself and others, developed a crush on her fellow nurse. Shinobu would often catch herself staring at the woman, not realizing why. What about (name) was so distracting?

That’s what she keeps asking herself, hoping desperately that these foreign feelings would simply fade in time—which, of course, they didn’t.

(Name) had also found herself falling for the beautiful woman whom she had the good luck to work alongside…although, to her, it seemed rather unlucky, for Shinobu was so close to her, yet so out of reach.

Shinobu was also painfully unaware that her feelings were reciprocated within (Name); for someone so observant, she could be quite oblivious at times. Ah, the challenges of love.

It had become quite apparent to anyone who had ever seen the two interact that they liked each other; in fact, they had each been asked on at least one occasion if they were together.

Both had vehemently denied such assumptions, Shinobu trying to mask her blush while (Name) fought down the growing heat in her face and butterflies in her stomach.

Later, upon reflection, (name) thought about how unwittingly cruel such accusations were, for instilling fantasies of a life together within her head. Shinobu simply kept her head up and went back to work with a smile, forcing down such thoughts in her typical fashion.

Fortunately, while fate hadn’t favored Shinobu, it finally decided to put the odds in her favor.

———————————————————————

Lately, Shinobu had become more and more certain that she had a crush on (name). Or, rather, had fallen in love with her. She was eighteen; “crush” was far too young and shallow a word to describe such feelings of attraction.

Shinobu has often found herself unable to sleep, thoughts of her and (name) living happily ever after running rampant in her head; not that she would ever complain. Such thoughts were a much more pleasant alternative to the typical thoughts that plagued her many a sleepless night, or day, depending on when her work would allow time for rest.

What was it about her that attracted Shinobu so? Her looks? Certainly not lacking, but there was a certain…aura around (Name) that she couldn’t quite place. The closest Shinobu could ever come to describing it was warm, comforting, and accepting. Such a contrast to Shinobu’s boiling rage, hidden neatly under a mask of calm happiness. Shinobu was not fool enough to think her affections would be returned, so she just hid them, as she did with all feelings she wished to remain secret. Mask up, smile on, happy, happy, happy.

Or was she?

———————————————————————

(Name) couldn’t stop thinking about Shinobu. She let out the sigh of someone so tired, yet not quite finished doing…what? Trying to win the affections of a woman who was probably attracted to someone else, not her? She should just move on, bury these feelings deep to sink and drown, but every time she tried, thoughts of the lovely woman kept fluttering back.

Shinobu didn’t just give (Name) butterflies; sometimes it felt as if Shinobu was the butterfly, flitting into her thoughts when she least suspected it. Small, yes, but undeniably gorgeous and graceful.

What was it about her that attracted (Name) so? Was it her calm, serene disposition? Her looks? Or was it simply….her? All these little melodies, coming together in glorious harmony, to be the woman (name) loved.

(Name) knew it: she was a coward, for not confessing her true feelings to Shinobu. What was he point in holding them in, hiding it, if she knew she’d get rejected no matter what?

The small, hopeful part of her pipes up, says that maybe Shinobu will, in time, like her in turn. Hope is far too powerful; it keeps holding (Name) down. Soon, she will have to confess or the misery of being turned away will be horrid. But still, she waits, and hopes.

After all, life can be surprising sometimes, and (Name) still has some semblance of a chance, right?

———————————————————————

Late at night, doing paperwork in her office, Shinobu made up her mind. When the opportunity presented, she would process her love for (Name). No more procrastinating; no more excuses.

———————————————————————

(Name) walked through the sprawling gardens of the Butterfly Mansion, inhaling the sweet aroma of the multicolored blooms. Butterflies flitted about, including her favorite, a purple and blue butterfly that reminded her of Shinobu.

She watched it as it dipped and glided, enraptured. The delicate beauty of butterflies never failed to entrance (Name); she had spent hours in these very gardens, fixated on the fascinating insects.

The soft crunch of gravel beneath light footsteps snapped her out of her reverie.

“Ah, hello there, (Name)!”

(Name) startled at the sudden noise. She turned to face Shinobu, a hint of pink dusting her face.

‘don’tblushdon’tblushdon’tblush!’ (Name) thought furiously, attempting to banish the growing flush in her cheeks. She quickly composed herself.

“Hello, Shinobu! Lovely….lovely day, is it not?”

Internally, (Name) cringed at the shallowness of her greeting. Outwardly, she kept her face the picture of calm and casual, smothering any thoughts with even a hint of her feelings towards Shinobu. But…

In that moment, something changed. (Name) made up her mind; she would swallow her doubts and confess her true affections for Shinobu. If the Insect Hashira is brave enough to risk her life on every mission she went on, then (Name) is certainly brave enough to admit a crush.

“Good to see you here! I, um, actually have been wanting to talk to you about something, but if you’re busy, I can wait…” (Name) stuttered.

In her typical friendly manner, Shinobu said, “No, no, I’m free right now. What a coincidence; I wanted to talk to you as well! Do you want to speak first, or should I?”

“You can speak first, if you want, it doesn’t matter to me,” (Name) said hurriedly.

“No, no, I insist! You were the first to say that we needed to talk, so it’s only fair that—”

“I’minlovewithyou,” (Name) blurted out, the butterflies in her stomach multiplying as a bright blush rose to her cheeks.

Shinobu blinked at her, trying to squash down the goofy smile trying to make its way onto her face.

“Say that again….uh, slower this time?” Shinobu asked hopefully.

“I-I…I’m in love…with you…” (Name) said quietly, trying to force back the sting of tears in her eyes.

“I…” Shinobu smiled; a genuine, happy smile. She took a couple steps closer before wrapping her arms around (Name). She placed her lips next to (Name’s) ear and whispered, “I think I am too.”

Shinobu moved her face away from (Name’s) ear and leaned in. Her breath tickled (Name’s) face, and their noses brushed lightly against each other’s.

Shinobu leaned in and placed her lips softly on (Name’s). It was a gentle, sweet kiss, filled with love and affection. After a moment that felt both long and short, Shinobu pulled away, smiling at (Name), who also had a soft grin on her face.

“That was…late,” (Name) remarked quietly.

Shinobu let out a breathy laugh as the two woman stood within each other’s embrace, butterflies gracefully flying around them.

———————————————————————

#kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny fluff #kny x reader #kny fanfic #shinobu kocho #demon slayer shinobu #kny shinobu #kocho #demon slayer kocho #kocho shinobu x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu x y/n #insect hashira #shinobu kochou #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x reader

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 15

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings: none

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 1844

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

A/N: My laptop broke last week and updates will be very sporadic until I get it back.  Sorry about that.

Chapter 15

Melody tapped her pen on the desk in front of her as she waited for everything to be set up properly.  The website was launching this week and they wanted to do it with a big name.  So she had pulled the strings she didn’t want to pull to get one.  They had their idea for their light, silly interview segments, and they were starting with one of the biggest names there were; Tony Stark.

It had been a long time since she met the self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist at the party where Steve had first confessed he was interested in her.  Back then she was just the woman interviewing Captain America, and while all Steve’s friends had been more than friendly, she was just a journalist back then, and the small amount she had spoken to anyone other than Steve, Bucky, or Sam, they had been on guard and performing for her.

Since then, Steve hadn’t invited her around to socialize with the rest of his friends.  Of course, she knew Bucky and Sam well, but the rest not so much.  On occasion, she might see one of them in the hall or the lobby when she slept over, but no other social occasions had brought them together.  Not that she particularly expected there to be, but it did mean that to get Tony she had gone through his PR people, dropping names in a way that made her feel a little dirty.  She hoped that this and the Spider-Man interview coming up would entice more celebrities to say yes.  She had other famous names she’d interviewed and created connections with thanks to the DB, but with this new site, it was hard for the bigger names to want to take the risk of being first.

She was grateful that Tony agreed to do it, but she worried that it was going to flop and not only would no one else agree to do any of these interviews, but Tony Stark would end up looking at her as the person who had publicly humiliated him, which would, in turn, would make things awkward with her and Steve.

She scribbled down a note to herself about trying to find a way to make Steve feel particularly cherished.  She didn’t want him to ever think she was with him because of who he knew.

As she was writing the huge double doors at the end of the tiny studio opened and Norah Winters came marching into the room like a woman on a mission.  She pulled up by the desk and flipped her blonde hair behind her head.  “Heard you used some nepotism to pull Tony Stark,” she said. “You realize this is why Jameson chose you for this job, don’t you?  You’re not a real journalist, you just sleep with people to get exclusives.”

Melody closed her notebook and blinked up at her.  “Thank you for your valuable input, Norah.  You are indeed a fantastic investigative journalist.  I’ll nominate you for a Pulitzer.  Woman running a fluff website pulled strings to get good guests.  News at seven.”

She rolled her eyes and went to take the notebook off the table.  Melody grabbed it before she could and tucked it into her pocket.  “You’re seriously happy with Jameson just using you like this?”

“Norah, I really don’t know what your problem is,” Melody said.  “I know you love to count the hits on your articles, but I also know you’re a real journalist.  A sleazy one, sure, but you do investigate things.  I’m not.  I never have been.  I write fluff pieces and now I produce silly online content to appeal to people who don’t read the news.  Every YouTuber on the planet calls in favors from their friends.  I don’t know what coming in here trying to call me out on that means anything to you.”

Norah rolled her eyes.  “We used to be a serious paper.”

“That’s not true,” Melody snarked.  “You were a tabloid at best.  I think what you’re annoyed about is you’re not the one getting all the attention anymore.  Go start a gossip blog if it bothers you that much.  Make up some stuff.”

“I don’t make things up,” she snapped.

“Oh no… you bend the truth to fit your narrative.  There’s a reason the Avengers don’t agree to interviews with you.”

“The Avengers are …”

“Oh yes?  What are we, dear?  I’d love to hear it.”

Both Norah and Melody whipped around to see Tony Stark enter the room.  He was with a small entourage of his own people as well as one of the interns and Bobbi.

“Mister Stark,” Melody said, getting up and coming over to him, holding out her hand to greet him.

“Ms Danes,” he said, taking her hand.  Rather than shake it though, he drew her in close and kissed her cheek.  “You look as ravishing as when I last saw you.”

“I really hope that’s not true,” Melody said.  “I was aiming at ravishing last time.  Now I’m going for professional.”

Tony laughed and turned his attention back to Norah.  “You were saying, Ms Winters?”

“I was saying that I have better places to be.  Good to see you, Mister Stark,” she said with a nod, quickly hurrying out of the room.

Tony laughed.  “She normally has much more fight than that,” he said.

Melody laughed and shook her head.  “I think she’s jealous I got the promotion,” she said and gestured for Tony to sit.  “Thank you so much for agreeing to do this for me, Tony.”

“Not a problem.  I have to admit, I was excited to get a chance to see you again.  I know you and Cap are getting serious and I’m getting a little offended he’s been keeping you away from me,” he said.  “So what’s the premise?  I’m eating things while I answer questions?”

“We have some recipes that were featured in Magazines from the year you were born and you and Bobbi will try them together.  Some are a little suspect, but we made sure there’s nothing there on your no-go list,” Melody explained.  “The questions are light.  It’s just supposed to be silly and fun.  You can answer truthfully or go for the joke, whatever you want.”

“As long as no one hands me anything, it’ll be fine,” he said.  “Bobbi and I will have a great time.  I know how disgusting 70s food can be.”

“That’s good,” Melody said.  “You won’t be disappointed.”

Tony laughed hard and got comfortable in his chair while Bobbi took the opposite him.  She ran through her intro easily.  Melody wasn’t surprised, Bobbi was so excited about this job she’d been practicing her lines constantly at home.  Sometimes Melody had heard her repeating them over and over in the shower.

When she was done explaining the premise and introducing Tony, Melody brought over the first dish, putting it on the desk beside them, so that Bobbi could slide it into view of the camera.

“And what is this delightful-looking ring of green jello?” Tony asked.

“This is a Guacamole mold,” Bobbi said, raising her eyebrow.

“Good lord, what did Mexican cuisine ever do to you?” Tony teased as he pushed the plate back and forth, making the ring giggle around the green leaf salad that it surrounded.

“I think it might be illegal for me to eat this,” Bobbi joked.

She cut them each a slice and put it on a cracker and the two toasted each other before taking a bite.  “Wow, that’s rank,” Tony said, covering his mouth as he spoke.  Bobbi broke down into laughter as she tried to swallow the food in her mouth.

“See I knew there would be jello, but I was not expecting avocado,” Tony said as he swallowed.

“Does it bring back childhood memories?” Bobbi asked.

Tony laughed and shook his head.  “I was pretty young during the era of putting everything in gelatin, but I also think that was more of a middle-class thing.  I mostly remember fondue and oysters Kilpatrick from the one or two parties I got to go to when I was just a little kid.”

Melody put another dish on the desk and took the guacamole ring away.  Bobbi moved it in front of her.

“Jesus Christ, what is that?” Tony cursed as he looked at the gelatin ‘salad’ filled with pimento and shredded red cabbage.  “It looks like a brain.”

“Well from the looks of it we’re sticking to the middle-class party food,” Bobbi answered.  “This is Rosy Perfection Salad.”

Tony started laughing.  “Oh yes, complete perfection.”

The interview continued with them sampling foods such as; Salmon crisp crumble, a dish resembling a cottage pie using salmon instead of lamb and potato chips instead of mash; Creamed Liver Loaf, a dish that sat somewhere on the chart between meatloaf and pate and was made with livers and wrapped in bacon; Celebration Basket, a basket made of baked meringue filled with fruit that both agreed was pretty tasty; Celebration Sandwich, a large multi-layered sandwich, cut to look like a cake and covered in cream cheese and sliced olives; and one more ‘salad’ that consisted of puréed corned beef in gelatin.  Tony and Bobbi spoke easily like two old friends, and Tony opened up about his childhood, and what it was like becoming Iron Man all those years ago.  His openness was completely unexpected, and Melody was impressed with how at ease Bobbi made Tony feel.

When it was all finished Tony stood and offered Bobbi his hand.  “That was so much fun,” he said.  “Thank you.”

“No thank you,” she said.  “This was my first time doing anything like that, I think my heart was about to beat out of my chest. I was so nervous at the start.”

“Oh you were great,” Tony said.  “You’re a complete natural.”

He turned to Melody and offered her his hand too.  Melody shook it with a smile.  “Thanks, Tony.  I owe you one.”

“It was nothing, really,” he said.  “Though I do need to go eat something to wash the taste of Post McCarthyism out of my mouth.”

Melody snorted. “I am sure we have soda or coffee around here somewhere,” she said.

He waved her away. “It’s fine.  I’ll stop at Burger King on the way out.  But you two should come around to the tower for dinner sometime.  It’s about time the team met Cap and Freezer Burns’ new Bae.  Is bae the word everyone is using now?”

“It is not,” Bobbi said.  “And did you just call him freezer burn?”

Tony smirked and raised an eyebrow at her.  “If the cryogenic unit fits… So shall we say Friday?  The Tower?  Seven-thirty?”

“Sounds good,” Melody said laughing.  “We’ll see you then.”

They watched Tony leave with his entourage and Bobbi turned to Melody.  “Well, that’s going to be interesting.”

“Don’t worry,” Melody said.  “It’ll be just like meeting his parents.”

Bobbi laughed and nudged her.  “Wow, that makes it way better.  Thanks for that.”

// NEXT

#marvel #avengers #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fanfic #captain america fanfic #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x ofc #ofc #original character fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #the interview #avengerscompound

[honey-minded-hivemind]

To give a small update, I've been making jewelry the past few days with pearls and necklaces with repurposed charms/earrings. It's pretty fun, to be honest. Has anyone here ever made jewelry before? A few relatives of mine used to make jewelery and sell it/gift it to people as a side job/hobby. It might just run in the family😅 This being said:

Imagine a Reader who makes jewelry...

Necklaces, chokers, bracelets, earrings, rings, anklets, you name it, they can and will make it.

Picky about your beads? Never fear! They have TONS of them! Bags and boxes and crates full, some repurposed from old pieces, some brand new, some from thrift stores or craft sections, it's all there! You like a certain color but want a gem for it? Reader has you covered! Amethyst, crystal, pearl, amber, fluorite, tiger's eye, garnet, pyrite, obsidian, etc. ! You want something more down-to-earth? Reader can do that, too! Wooden beads in all shapes and sizes and shades, crafted glass beads in different flora and fauna or abstract forms, even charms of metal and plastic and ceramic, if that's your style!

The platonic yamderes would definitely ADORE whatever Reader themed after them! A pair of earrings with lighting bolt charms and cloud puffs after Storm, complete with a weather-inspired necklace full of little cloud puffs and sun beads and rain crystals? She'd model it for you if you wanted! You want to make an entire cottage-core themed bracelet set with frogs and toads and mushrooms? Toad would love to be your muse, so you can capture their essence! You used animal bones and rough stones based on how Wolverine and Sabretooth are? Ohhhhh honey, they'd be supplying you with any bones you want, all while seeing how it looks on them. Point is, if you have ANYTHING that is based on or themed after any of the mutants, they are so going to be taking a look and talking about it!You want to sell your jewelry? They're your hype men. You need to find customers or a crowd who enjoys your craft? Surprise, the entire superhero, supervillain, and mutant communities are informed about it, and suddenly you have a steady stream of buyers. Oh, someone wants to show them in a gallery or show? They'll be pushing people towards your masterpieces, all while talking about the artist, who they know personally (you). You can bet the mutants who have some money tucked away buy the entire collections that are based on/themed around them (and they are NOT cheap when it comes to buying every last piece centered on them).

You can bet yourself that the platonic yans would be all for you and your craft, no matter the cost or trials it brings. H*ck, they're probably funding/donating to your art at this point, making sure you're never out of jewels, beads, threads, wires, metals, or jewelry pliers. If you need an extra hand with something, you have several willing volunteers. You need a new muse? Sign them up, they'll do all sorts of stuff with you to give you that inspiration you crave. You need a break from working too hard? Sit down, have some tea or coffee or orange juice, and let them help you wind down. They love you, and they love what you do, but they won't have you stretching yourself thin just to make ends meet. If you need anything, say the word and they'll be there. You've always been a pal, a friend, a sibling, or kid to them; let them repay the favor. You're their jewel, their gem, their lucky charm, and they wouldn't ever want to let you down.

(Should I make a post about the type of jewelry/sets/collections each X-Men Evolution character would have made by Reader based on them and their theme/colors/powers?)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen: the animated series #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #platonic yamdere xmen

[arcielee]

Dancing in the Dark

Tom Bennett x OFC Summary: War is spilling over Europe and a route is being created to help POWs escape occupied France. Sometimes love does not last forever, but lasts long enough. Warnings: Smut/NSFW later on, some misogyny cause it's the 1940s Author's Note: I know the Tom and the nurse trope has been done but NOT BY ME so here we go. This shit will be short and tragic, with a possible follow up if we ever get a season 2 of World on Fire. Enjoy. ♥  Update: This is completed! Artwork by 4yvle1 and they are crazy talented, so follow them. 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 - ende

Chapter 1

Vera walked with determined steps, her low pumps echoed on the Linoleum of the hospital floors as she walked towards the back offices. Her dark curls were pulled back and half-heartedly held with the few bobby pins she had left, but some had begun to frame her face and the severe expression she wore. 

She was mindful enough to soften her features when she would make her rounds, but in this moment she was focused on her steps as she weaved through the beds that now lined the hallways; the doctor was doing his best to accommodate the survivors of Dunkirk that continued to be brought in by the ambulance load, unwilling to turn anyone away.

In the back of the hospital was the only spare room that did not hold any patients. Inside were several desks, one for each doctor assigned. Sitting at the desk in the back corner sat Dr. O’Connor with a mug in his hand and two newspapers, the L'Action Francaise in his other hand and one from Great Britain opened on his desk, his eyes moving between them. 

Vera walked to the hooks the doctor had placed on the wall adjacent to his desk, allowing her and Henriette to hang their personal items and purses. His attention broke away to watch her, a smile splayed across his boyish features.  “Guten Tag, Vera, I am finishing up this devastating article that Henriette was good enough to translate for me,” he gestured to the newspaper in hand, “and I am enjoying a cup of coffee, which will have to suffice for breakfast today.” 

She found she struggled with his American humor, often unsure how to respond to his words and the smile he wore, despite the grim headlines printed on both papers. Her brow had a slight furrow and she reached for her nursing apron. “It is very busy, Arzt,” was all she managed.

“Doctor,” he placed his hand onto his chest. “Or, since we are friends, you can call me Webster, like everyone else.” 

Vera did consider the young doctor a friend.

They had been introduced by his aunt, a woman named Nancy Campbell, who she was fortunate to become neighbors with when her father relocated them to Berlin, with him pushing to become a more active member of the NDSAP. He, of course, loathed the American woman and found her crude, but Vera was enthralled by her bold ideas and her unabashed drive to search for the truth. Nancy was quick to recognize her disdain for the Nazi party, offering her apartment as a reprieve from her father, where she would help her with her English and share a glass of brandy. 

Nancy had been good to help her purchase a ticket for Brussels, where she found a nursing program and a chance for her freedom. She had even offered to call a favor with her nephew, who had just moved to Paris. “He’s a darling boy, you'll adore him,” she had said. 

Vera was assigned to the independent facility after she graduated and did find that she was fond of Nancy’s nephew, a young man named Webster O'Connor. He was very much the personification of an All-American man, with a boyish grin to his often teasing words and a genuine kindness behind his eyes. He was good to keep her at his side and introduced her to Henriette, who was also kind enough to help Vera with the little bit of French she knew. 

This had come in handy to help her mask her Hannover dialect that she found often alarmed their new patients, since the majority were now soldiers.  

Vera tsked at his request. “I do not understand the work you have invested to get this degree, doctor,” her accent flared with the new word and broke it into two distinct syllables, “and then request to be called Webster.”

“You sound like my mother.” Dr. O’Connor, as always, was never deterred by her directness. “Sehr gut,” he complimented her on the pronunciation of the new word. Very good.

Her smile was brief with her exhale as she finished the knot of her apron strings in the front. She found him to be peculiar, but she also appreciated that he continued his constant coaching of her English during the shifts they shared together. 

The office door opened again and they both looked up to see Henriette peering in, her dark brown eyes bright. Dr. O’Connor sighed and folded his paper to lay on the desk top, pushing his chair back to stand. “I know, I know. I am needed, as always,” he said. 

“You are correct, Webster,” she replied with her French lilt and a smile. “You are very much needed.” She saw Vera grabbing a tin basin and restocking with gauze, ointments, et cetera to prepare for her rounds. “Your boy has finally awakened, Vera,” she said, her smile now sly. 

Vera felt a blush creep across her ivory cheeks and she avoided the look from Dr. O’Connor. “Oh? Is this our comatose Navy man?” His cheeky grin could be heard with his words.

When he had been admitted, the name on his dog tag read Bennett, Thomas and she knew little else other than he served in the Navy, or assumed by the blood soaked uniform he had been wearing when he was brought in. Patient unconscious with a gunshot wound to his left shoulder, possible head trauma, were the words written by the doctor on his chart and Vera happened to be on staff when he began treatment. She continued to follow up with him, keeping the Navy man in her daily rotations. 

It had been late one night when she finished her walkthrough, before her shift ended, that she stopped to check on him. He was bare from his waist up, his arm and abdomen wrapped in gauze with a dark purple bruising that spread across his chest and shoulder. She leaned forward to check that the blood had staunch and paused, her eyes looking over his sharp jawline and the curl of his lips. Without a thought in her head, her hand reached to brush away his golden locks when she heard a giggle behind her. 

Her hand froze and in one motion, she rightened her posture and spun on her heel to find Dr. O’Connor, the grinning fool, and Henriette, who at least had the decency to hide her smile behind her hand. 

“He is very handsome, no?” Her voice was soft as she raised a brow. 

Vera made an attempt to flee the hospital and they followed her towards the office, begging her not to leave but to stay and share a stout. “We are friends, are we not?” Henriette hung onto her arm, her brown eyes pleading. 

“C’mon, Vera, we are only teasing you,” Dr. O’Connor had jumped in. “It’s just… we’ve had quite a few men come through our doors and it was just surprising that someone finally… piqued your interest, is all.”

Vera was flustered. “I did not become a nurse as some ploy to get my M-R-S,” her tone was sharp, with a flourish on each letter. “I am doing what is right, what is my duty.” 

“Of course, of course,” he soothed, his hand touched her elbow and he began to walk towards the door; Henriette grabbed her own purse and followed. “No one is doubting your intentions. It’s just nice to see, ya know, you have a little crush.” He wore that same damned cheeky smile. “It makes you human.” 

Her eyes had narrowed onto him, but she still agreed to go with them and have a drink. They talked into the night, sharing their different pathways that brought them to the hospital, their liquored tongues confiding in one another. It gave her a true sense of friendship, an unspoken bond that would follow them within the hospital walls, and she found she did not mind it and even enjoyed their company. 

“He is quite the handful, Vera,” Henriette continued to tease her.

That was until this moment. 

“I guess, I will begin my rounds with him,” she struggled to keep her tone flippant and ignored their exchange of amused expressions with each other. She lifted her supplies to rest on her hip and followed them from the office, towards the growing commotion. 

“Get your dirty, grubby hands off me now!”

She heard a man yell and saw ahead that Jacques tried to hold Bennett, Thomas to the bed. Vera was quick to push past them, her hands reaching to rest on his legs. Her touch halted him for a moment and she saw his face was flushed, his eyes focused on Vera and her cheeks burned at the intensity of his blue eyes. “Let me go and I’ll take my chances!” His voice pleaded.  

Jacques was careful to press on his abdomen, avoiding his injuries and keeping him from leaving his assigned bed. “Hey, listen!” He tried to reason with him. “If you leave now, you will die!”

His attention returned to Jacques and he cocked his head, his face burned with his anger and it amplified the blue of his wide eyes. “Oh, so I just stay here and surrender? Like you lot?” He gave a sharp scoff as his eyes looked over the staff by his bedside. “Paris has fallen–she just told me!” 

Vera kept her grip on his legs, throwing her eyes back to the doctor and Henriette; her eyes widened and Dr. O’Connor kept his gaze on him, his expression solemn as he listened. 

“And not a shot fired!” He cried out and then his eyes narrowed as he emphasized his following words. “How is a bunch of cowards going to keep me safe?”

Her own hold loosened as she looked to Jacques and the sudden change in his mien. “Pardon?” His dark eyes burned in response to the words and his brow furrowed, pressing forward.   

“Jacq!” Henriette was quick to grab his arm, pulling him from the bed.  “Laisse-le.” Leave him.

He allowed himself to be pulled away, throwing a disgusted look back at the Navy man, who seemingly relaxed once the personified restraint was gone. His piercing eyes returned to Vera and she peered at his chest, noticing the bandages had shifted in the altercation and fresh blood began to seep through. “You have opened your wound,” but as soon as the words left her lips, she saw his gaze focus on her mouth. 

“Christ.” His expression was incredulous. “It seems the krauts are already here with their nursebands.” 

Her eyes narrowed in return. “Our staff has been devoted to helping you,” she snapped, her tone low. 

“You think you’ve helped me?” He was propped onto his elbows, his agitation still apparent on his flushed face. “Thanks to your help, I’m in a city crawling with Nazis,” his eyes fixated on her with the word. There was a moment she thought he might spit, but instead he fell back to the bed, wincing, and rolled onto his good shoulder away from them. “Now piss off and let me die in peace.” 

Vera was quick to stand, her cheeks flushed as she grabbed her basin and walked from the bed. Her strides brought her to the end of the hallway and she could hear the heavy steps of the doctor behind her. “Vera, please!” She turned and saw the same genuine concern imprinted on his face. “He was just in shock and he didn’t-” 

Vera grabbed his arm, pulling him aside to avoid any spectating eyes. “It is okay, Webster.” She struggled with his nickname and he gave a small smile. “I should have expected this, it is the world we live in right now.” She exhaled, shifting the tin to her other hip. “It was just a silly crush and it will not affect my work. I will do my rounds and will see him last, when his temper has cooled.” 

Dr. O’Connor looked at her for a moment and she could see him repressing an urge to hug her, but he, gratefully, kept his arms to his side and offered her a tight smile. She returned it with a nod and then moved back into the hallway, towards the first bed and grabbed the chart from the end. 

As the war grew closer, their patient intake had changed and she was accustomed to the hesitation from the soldiers they now treated. Vera minimized her speech, only using the bit of French from grade school and Henriette’s coaching to reply to them, attempting to camouflage her German accent as best she could. 

After the response of the Navy man, she would be more diligent. 

The day continued and rolled towards dusk, the orange rays of the setting sun peered through the large windows. She checked through her patients, some requiring more attention than others, before she finally made her way back to Bennett, Thomas. 

He was still on his side, having sulked himself to sleep with his arms crossed in front and his lips parted with his steady breathing. She watched him for a moment, a small smile to her lips, and she reached to touch his elbow, hoping it would be the least intrusive wake up for him. 

He opened his eyes and groaned when he rolled onto his back, turning to see her. “Christ, kraut,” he murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Do you not understand ‘piss off’?”

The smile evaporated and her expression returned to severe, her eyes narrowing onto him again. “I must change your bandage,” she struggled to keep her tone controlled. “Your tantrum earlier possibly ruptured your injury.” 

“Gimme a moment, I know how you can understand,” his lips had a cruel curve as he brought himself to his elbows to face her. “Verpiss dich?”

Vera refused to be bullied; her expression steeled and she brought two fingers to press into his bloodied bandaged. He winced and fell back against the thin mattress. “You are injured,” she pronounced each word with an added emphasis. “You will be quiet and allow me to change this damn bandage or I can allow your injury to put you in a septic shock, letting your organs fail you one-by-one.” She leaned back, her hands moving to smooth her apron and left a smear of blood. “Your choice, Bennett.”

He watched her and his expression changed, with an almost look of amusement that played across his face despite how his own eyes were still narrowed onto her. Perhaps he had not expected her to snap back at him, she did not know, but he did not say another word as he pushed himself to sit upright in the bed. 

Vera sighed, sitting on the bed’s edge, and began to remove his soiled bandages; her touch was gentle and her hands cool as she cleaned and checked the lesion before reaching for fresh gauze. He remained quiet and his eyes were watchful, lifting his arm with a grimace as she wrapped around his abdomen.  

Her eyes remained focused on the task at hand, refusing to allow them to wander elsewhere on the Navy man and prayed for the color to leave her cheeks. When she finished, she moved to stand and he grasped her elbow to hold her back. She turned to look at him and saw his cerulean blue eyes stare back. “Danke,” he said with a smirk. 

Vera looked at him a moment and pulled away, grabbing her supplies and moving back towards the office. What she did not see was the Navy man who leaned back onto his bed, cocking his head to admire the swish of her skirt as she walked away.

----

Chapter 2

#tom bennett #world on fire #we need more tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett x ofc #ao3 #thanks for reading #♥ #dancing in the dark

[kitkatwinchester]

I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS!

Scott has been through soooo f*cking much at this point. SO much. And he's been gravely worried, and he's been horribly upset, and he's been flat-out terrified--most often when it comes to his friends and family being in danger.

But most of the time, he's really good at fighting off and masking that fear in favor of helping his friends and family through their fear, and he's been great at turning his fear into anger and determination against his enemies and struggles.

I don't think I have EVER, in all four years of this show, heard Scott be as utterly terrified as he was when Kate started to put that Berserker mask on him.

That SCREAM.

The SHAKING.

The STRUGGLING against the bonds.

Holy f*ck, Tyler Posey, because you genuinely made me tear up.

All the sh*t that Scott has been through, and THIS is what made him scream like that.

And I don't know if it's because she's gonna turn him into the killer that he's never wanted to be, or because she's going to sick him on his own pack and hope that they kill him, or because he's helpless and hopeless and has no idea how to get out of it, or if it's a combination of all three.

But my heart just SHATTERED, because he is TERRIFIED...and he's all alone.

And I DESPISE that.

And the thing is, I KNOW the pack is coming to save him, and I love that everyone was on the same page around the same time (Derek and Braeden going back to the house and finding Scira gone and the place trashed, Noah and Stiles suspicious that Scira hadn't shown up yet, and Lydia trying to get through to Deaton and succeeding so that they could get Scira's location) and was able to put the pieces together fast enough to get there ASAP.

But they're not gonna get there ASAP enough, and when they do get there, Kate's right--they're gonna have no idea that they're fighting their own Alpha, and I get the feeling that whatever she does to him will make Scott not care that he's fighting his own pack.

And that thought is F*CKING TERRIFYING.

So excuse me while I scream right along with Scott and almost sob my eyes right out of my head.

On a more positive note, I absolutely loved that conversation between Liam and Brett, and I love that Brett and Liam are kind of on the same team (in life, that is) now, because of what Scott did. I also love that Brett helped Liam on the field, and that he gave him that little pep talk about how amazing Scott is, and how amazing Liam can be too. And while my heart is breaking that Liam feels like Scott abandoned him, I have a feeling that, when he learns what really happened, he'll understand, and god forbid, maybe he'll actually TALK TO HIM for crying out loud.

Also, it looks very promising for Parrish getting Argent out of there, and that pep talk was amazing, and Parrish is seriously such a great guy and just so smart and I love him SO FREAKING MUCH. And his EYES GLOWED, and now he's using his power, and Argent is using his adrenaline, and that is PROMISING, and maybe they'll both be OKAY, and GOD I FREAKING HOPE SO BECAUSE IF WE LOSE ANYONE THIS SEASON I'M GONNA SCREAM!

ANYWAYS.

I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS, and I really hope SOMEBODY in the pack is smart enough to pick up on Kate's trickery and SAVE Scott instead of killing him, because THAT IS THE LAST THING WE NEED GOSH DARNAT!!

Using another couple of not-gifs of Liam and Brett's and Parrish and Argent's conversations because they were the only positive things that happened in the last ten minutes and I need something to keep me from crying. :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'(

(Okay but again, THE WRITING IN THIS SEASON I SWEAR TO GOD! <3 <3 <3 <3)

P.S. No, I didn't forget about Peter and Malia--I just chose to ignore it.

Update: I started the next episode and OH THANK GOD!! THE TATTOO!! THE TATTOO IS GONNA BE THE THING THAT SAVES US!! Scott is still under Kate's control, but at least the PACK will know that it's really Scott, because TATTOO!! I HAVE NEVER BEEN AS HAPPY ABOUT THAT TATTOO AS I AM RIGHT NOW!!! ANYWAYS.

#scott mccall #tyler posey #stiles stilinski #noah stilinski #derek hale #braeden #lydia martin #alan deaton #jordan parrish #chris argent #liam dunbar #brett talbot #ahhhh those pep talks #it makes me feel just a LITTLE better about life #except for ya know #EVERYTHING ELSE THAT'S HAPPENING #GOD I HATE THIS #I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT #in case I hadn't said it enough already lol #PLEASE SAVE THEM! #PLEASE DON'T LET HIM KILL ANYONE! #scott will NEVER be able to live with himself if that happens #stiles already has enough of a guilty conscience #we don't need scott to have one too #god this show #my heart #ANYWAYS #teen wolf season 4 #teen wolf reactions #4x11

[writercole]

Leaving

Summary: It's not what she thinks.

Squares: Unwanted @anyfandomangstbingo

Words: 2034

Warnings: Angst, misunderstandings

A/N: I'm kinda sorry for this part, actually. It hurt like hell to write.

Tag list is done. Please follow @coleslibrary and turn on notifications for story updates.

Jake was furious that Suze had had the audacity to show up. Her parents were friends with his, but still she had some nerve thinking she was welcome there too.  But when she started insulting Valkyrie, that was the last straw, and it took all his willpower not to let his ire explode from within.

“We aren’t together,” he told her calmly, pointing between himself and his ex for clarity., “There’s nothing between us, so you don’t need to be jealous. Hell, even when we were together, you were barely present. It was a mistake the first time and it’ll never happen again.”

Suze stood staring at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I didn’t mean -”

“I don’t care what you meant or didn’t mean,” he spat. “Y/N is my best friend, and we may not be official, but  I’ve found everything I was missing in her. She’s the one I want by my side, always has been.”

Suze’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped, regret flashing over her features.

“Do me a favor and forget I exist. Forget my family exists. And if you’re ever invited to another party, respectfully decline. No one wants you here, it was a courtesy to your parents.”

Jake stormed off, forgetting the drinks the bartender had just finished making. He was on a mission to find Valkyrie and get out of there. Suze ruined the entire party for him but he knew it was a situation easily remedied by an impromptu road trip to their favorite lake with a bottle of whiskey. 

“Val?” he called as he searched the crowd, stopping to ask his siblings and his parents if they’d seen her, only to be grabbed by the party planner and dragged on stage for a speech. 

She was grateful that Admiral Simpson was sympathetic to her pleas. Maybe it’s because he heard the sniffles or the lump in her throat. Either way, he told her he would do his best to get her duty station changed sooner than the rest of the Dagger team. 

She packed her bags and ordered a car to take her to the airport. Waiting in the room until she got the notification of the cab's arrival she tried her hardest not to cry.  Her phone buzzed and she steeled her nerves as she set her suitcase down on the floor. The crowd outside applauded as if they agreed she was doing the right thing. One deep breath later and she was rolling it down the hallway towards the front door.

“You’re leaving?” Jake said from behind her as she reached for the knob.

“Fuck,” she whispered, straightening her shoulders and turning around. “Yeah, Simpson needs me back immediately. My flight’s already booked,” she lied, her hand still around the handle of her suitcase.

“Well, I’ll drive you to the airport,” he offered as he fished his keys from his pocket.

“No, you stay here with your family,” she declined, “I’ve already called an uber.”

“I really need to talk to you,” he implored, the desperation in his face breaking her heart.

“My car’s already here,” she announced before she spun on her heel and rushed out the front door, ignoring Jake calling her name. She was in the backseat telling the driver to just go before he could catch her.

Jake stood staring after the car, his heart shattered as he tried to figure out what just happened. He really needed to talk to her, for his best friend to know that his words had been true; that she had always been by his side and he wanted to make it official that she’d be there forever. But it was more than that.

He had never felt this way about anyone before. He’d watched people walk in and out of his life for years without this aching feeling in his chest, without feeling like the world had stopped spinning. When tears started falling down his face, he wiped his cheeks and stared at his glistening fingers with his head tilted and his brows furrowed, unsure how he even got to this point.

The one person who could help him figure it out had left. So what did he do now? He tried to call Val’s cell, but it went straight to voicemail. He couldn’t have this conversation with a robot so he hung up without leaving a message.

After standing in the road for what felt like hours, he walked back to the bar and swiped the first full bottle of whiskey he could find, taking it with him up to the garage loft where he used to hide when he was a kid. He had finished half of the bottle with his back against the wall, staring out the small window and watching the party dwindle. 

His vision started to blur as the light in the room waned. Jake didn’t know how long he'd been there, drinking his sorrows away, but he knew he’d be content to stay there for the rest of his life. A clicking sound began to echo closer and closer, the overhead light flipping on moments before his mother’s head peeked above the ladder.

“Twenty years later and you’re still using the loft to hide away when you’re upset,” she observed as she hoisted herself up across from him. 

“Good spot,” he slurred as he took another swing from the rapidly emptying bottle.

“Are you gonna talk to me about it?” she pressed as she settled back against a stack of boxes.

Jake sighed shakily as he put the bottle down next to him, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Why don’t you tell me why your girlfriend left?” she prompted.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he scoffed.

“We’ll come back to that,” his mom smiled. “But why did she leave?”

“I don’t know why,” he admitted as tears started falling down his cheeks. “I came in after my speech and she was at the door with her suitcase. She said that the Admiral wanted her back but that’s a lie.” He swiped at his face angrily, a futile effort to dry the tears that were falling steadily from his eyes.

“How do you know it was a lie?”

“Because she was different. She wasn’t herself,” he told her, his voice raising as he spoke. “She was leaving without saying goodbye. She’s never done that.”

“So you just let her go?”

“I tried to stop her,” he said quietly, voice cracking. “I ran after her but…” He was cut off by a sob escaping his chest. He buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he sat in his childhood hiding spot and cried quietly.

A pair of arms wrapped around him and his mother’s voice hummed the old lullaby she would sing when he was a boy. She pulled him close to her chest and he leaned into her, letting her warmth and her familiar scent wash over him. 

As he calmed, he sat straighter, his head clearer than when his mom found him. He wiped his face with his sleeve and looked at her. “Oh, Mom, I ruined your dress,” he said as he looked at the wetness on her shoulder.

“My son needed me. That’s more important than a swath of fabric.” She looked at him with a softness reserved for a child, the way a mother looks when she knows her child is hurting and is unable to take the pain away. “Now, you said she’s not your girlfriend. But I noticed her bed hasn’t been slept in.”

“I, uh, um…” he stuttered.

“Jake,” she sighed, taking his hands in her own. “I want you to listen to me very carefully. I’ve seen the way you look at that girl. I’ve seen it since you first brought her here for that physics project in 9th grade. And I don’t think you even realized it yet, but you’ve been in love with her since you were fourteen years old.

“I have watched you grow into probably the best man I’ve ever seen, and that includes your father. You’ve got the career you always dreamed of, son, but you’re not happy unless she’s with you. I have never seen you smile and laugh as much as you have in these last two days. 

“Whatever you have to do to prove that she’s it for you, do it. And fast. Because that girl,” she stressed, pointing in a random direction over his shoulder, “that girl is not going to be lonely for long.”

It wasn’t often that she missed her parents. They’d never had a great relationship and when she told them that she was joining the Navy, they lost it. She hadn’t spoken to them since that night. But it was taking every ounce of willpower she had not to call her momma. 

The one person she would normally call for motherly advice was busy at her anniversary party, probably congratulating her son on getting back with his supermodel girlfriend. She refused to take her away from an important day like that just to listen to someone - who wasn’t even family - whine about her broken heart.

She sat on the uncomfortable mattress and picked at the threadbare comforter and watched as her phone rang and rang, Jake’s photo on the screen. She couldn’t bear to talk to him right now. 

The ringing stopped and she began receiving texts, one after another, all from Jake. The ringing started again and she reached over to turn it off, pausing when she saw who was calling. She swiped to answer and quickly put the phone to her ear.

“Valkyrie,” she identified, her voice rough and ragged.

“Lieutenant, we have switched you back to your old squadron. You’ll be going back to New Orleans,” Admiral Simpson explained. “Transport will leave at 1200 tomorrow.”

“I can make that work,” she agreed, “thank you, sir.”

Jake landed in San Diego at 2 PM on Sunday afternoon, having switched to an earlier flight to try and fix whatever he had done to make her leave. He got back to Miramar and headed straight for the dorms, ignoring the calls of his friends.

He skidded to a stop in front of her door, finding it wide open, the room completely cleaned out. He checked the number and confirmed that it was her room, running his hand through his hair as he tried to figure out his next move. 

An idea came to him and he took off to the administrative offices. Admittedly, this was a hail mary of a long shot but maybe he’d be able to get some information.

“Admiral Simpson, sir, do you have a moment?” Jake asked as he stood in the doorway of the his superior’s office.

“What is it, Seresin?” he barked without looking up from his paperwork.

“I was just wondering if you could tell me where Valkyrie is,” he said as he stepped into the office.

Admiral Simpson sighed and set down his pen, turning his attention to the lieutenant standing before him. “Even if I were permitted by the Navy to give you that information, which I am not, I have been asked by your former team leader to keep all of you in the dark in regards to her whereabouts.”

“What are you,” Jake snapped but remembered his place quickly. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand.” he corrected, hoping the Admiral would forgive the attitude, while his stomach flipped and threatened to jump out of his throat.

“She called me and asked to be reassigned immediately with the stipulation that I tell no one, including you, where that would be to. She mentioned you by name, Seresin. Care to take a guess at why that would be?” Admiral Simpson looked at him with raised eyebrows, folding his hands in his lap as he maintained eye contact.

“I don’t know, sir,” Jake replied quietly, “thank you for your time, sir.” He turned and walked out of the room, going to the only place he could think of that might take his mind off of his predicament.

Everything: @thelastpyle @deangirl93 @evergreencowboy @katelyn--renee @fictional-affairs @paintlavillered @buckys-zomdoll @polireader @b3autyfuldisast3r @welcometothefandommultiverse @mlovesstories @supraveng @xoxabs88xox

Top Gun: @princessmisery666 @evansrogerskitten @bradshaw-fanclub @saiyanprincessswanie @luckyladycreator2 @princessphilly @ahockeywrites @clints-lucky-arrow @wildbornsiren @shanimallina87 @fuckyeahhangman @blue-aconite @hope-love-equality2 @peachiicherries @marvelousmermaid @therebeccaw @green-socks @imjess-themess @jostystyles @callsignaries @a-reader-and-a-writer @ahopelessromanticwritersworld

#writercole #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman seresin #hangman angst #the best benefits #part 11 #top gun maverick #tgm

[jerzwriter]

Three months after the chemical attack at Edenbrook, Tobias asks his friend, Casey, to join him on a trip back to his hometown of Washington, DC. It's turned into a bit of a competition about whose city does Christmas best, and both are determined to win. In part two, join Tobas & Casey on their journey from Boston to the Nation's Capitol.

Book: Open Heart Characters: Tobias Carrick & Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Sienna, Aurora, Jackie (Briefly) Rating: Teen Words: 1,060 A/N: This is an altered version of a fic I wrote in 2022... but as I'm finally filling in the gaps of my Tobias/Casey headcanon, I needed to make some changes. If you're following the HC, this story would take place after Part One: A Proposition. Parts Two and Three will be the second and final leg of their trip. I originally posted it as one ridiculously long fic, and that was just crazy stuff. lol I'm also in the process of updating my Tobias/Casey masterlist to make this a little less confusing... for me, more than you! lol. Thanks to anyone who checks this out!

Series Masterlist | Tobias x Casey Masterlist Masterlist

Sienna’s brow was furrowed as she watched Casey close her suitcase. 

“You’re sure you’re OK with this?” she asked.

“Yes, Sienna. For the third time, I’m fine. Tobias got a suite so we can each have our own room, and… I trust him.  He’s done nothing but help me since… well… you know.”

Sienna plopped on the bed with a sigh. “I guess if you’re OK with this, then suppose I should be as well.”

“You think?” Aurora asked from the doorway. “Si, I understand being worried. But this is a good thing!” She turned to Casey with an approving grin. “I mean, look at you! Going away for a couple days – you’ve come so far, and I’m proud of you. Plus, I know you’re in good hands with T. Uh, I mean, not that you will be in his hands.  Unless you want to be, and no judgment from me if you do, that’s just not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant,” Casey smiled.  “And you’re right. I will be in good hands.  He… he really cares about me, and he’s proven that.”

“I have to admit, he has.” Sienna conceded, “But I’m still making it clear that he better treat you well before you leave. If anything goes wrong, I will hold him accountable.”

“Don’t worry, Sienna,” Casey laughed. “Neither of us would expect anything less.”

The doorbell rang and Casey immediately grabbed her coat and hat. Flushed with excitement, she had to admit, this was the first time she had looked forward to something since the attack, and it felt good.

“Hey!” Tobias lit up the moment he saw her, taking the wattage down when he saw Sienna looking on sternly from behind. “Good to see you, too, Si.” he winked. He went to pick up Casey's sole suitcase and turned to her with astonishment.

“One bag? That’s it?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “It’s just a few days... unless you’re planning on kidnapping me?”

“Nah, I’ll have you back right on time. But you have to understand, I grew up with a mom that packed four bags for a weekender. So forgive me if I find this remarkable.”

“Four bags for a weekend?” Casey gasped.

“Yeah, she’s a bit high maintenance. If you ever meet her, you’ll understand.”

“What do you mean?” Aurora teased. “You’re not introducing her while you’re in DC?”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Tobias shot back. “I love my Ma, but she can be... a lot. Besides, she’d probably be working on an engagement invitation within an hour. No way would she believe we’re just friends.”

A soft blush settled on Casey’s cheeks, but her friends wouldn’t let this opportunity pass.

“Yeah,” Jackie yelled from the couch. “Most of us call bullshit on that one.”

“Jackie!” Casey reprimanded, but Aurora supportively tapped her friend's shoulder.

“Ignore her. You two should get going; if you leave now, you’ll avoid rush hour traffic.”

“That’s the plan,” Tobias said, lifting Casey's bag. “All set, MacTavish?”

“All set!”

“Then let’s go! Your chariot awaits!”

~~~~~

The decision to fly was nixed in favor of driving. They both loved road trips, and neither regretted the choice. The ride was punctuated with pleasant conversations, Christmas music, a couple of stops to partake in local delicacies, and even an impromptu snowball fight at a rest stop in Maryland.  When they arrived at their suite, they were so tuckered out there was little more to do than wash up and head to bed.  After all, they had a big day waiting for them.

They were up bright and early to enjoy the Willard InterContinental’s breakfast buffet.  Casey eyed the opulent surroundings and nervously looked over her attire. This definitely wasn’t the Holiday Inns she was used to, and she felt a little out of her league.  But her trepidation melted away when Tobias returned to the table, his plate stacked with food.

“Trying to get a lot of sustenance in,” she laughed.

“You better believe it! I have quite an itinerary planned. We’re walking the Mall. I have a checklist of all the museums we want to see. I need fuel. Are you sure you had enough?”

“I’ve had plenty,” she rubbed her stomach with delight. “And it was delicious.”

Sitting back in her chair, she watched Tobias scoff down his food, but he noticed immediately when a bit of discomfort encroached upon her happy mood.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I just… this place and all, it’s a little more than I’m used to. I feel like I’m out of my element. And it had to cost a fortune. I don’t like that you had to take on such an expense.”

With a tender expression, he instinctively reached over and placed his hand atop hers, then flinched when he realized he may have crossed a line. He gave a squeeze, then quickly retreated.

“This is as much for me as it is for you.  It’s been a long time since I treated myself, and it’s been a long time since I gave a damn about the holidays at all. So let’s just enjoy it.”

“I’ll try.”

“Come on,” he said, scooping the last bite of food from his dish. “Let’s get going. We have a long day ahead.”

He gave Casey a full tour around the city, only to learn that she had been there several times before, though never during this time of year.  As a history buff, she spent an inordinate amount of time at each monument, and Tobias did his best to ignore that he was freezing. After all, the look of delight on her face was worth a tiny bit of frostbite. He soon figured out how to work museum stops to allow a chance to defrost, but that was all undone when they reached Capitol Hill. There was enough snow on the ground to partake in a sleigh ride, and neither was about to pass up on that opportunity. Throughout the day, they had seen just about every Christmas tree in town, but as night fell, they approached the Capitol tree, the most impressive of them all.

“So, what do you think?” He asked boastfully.

“I mean, it’s nice,” Casey half-shrugged. “Very nice, even.”

“But?”

“You’ll see when we get to Philly,” she grinned. “You’ll see.”

“Wow! You’re a tough customer. Are you saying today hasn’t been magical?”

“I said no such thing!” She smiled, her face lit up by a million little lights twinkling on the tree, Tobias was sure this was the most magical moment of all.

“It’s been amazing.  But let’s see what tomorrow holds.”

Next Stop: Philadelphia.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Like last time, just tagging some Tobias stans @alj4890 @kyra75 @coffeeheartaddict2 @brycesgirl @icecoffee90 @storyofmychoices

#open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #tobias x casey #holiday fics #revised

[violetlunette]

A recolor of Princess Leah, Silver’s birth mom. (My version, at least.) The other color is here

Behold! My version of Leah, aka, Silver’s birth mother. I know that the popular fanon for her is that Leah was a strong, take-no-bullshit-from-anyone Lady who kicks her brother around like a soccer ball and is an all-around Girl Boss, but I imagine her as the opposite. Below is my long-winded / thought-too-hard history for Leah. Notes: *Spoilers for Book / Chapter 7 *Long post. Apparently, I had a lot to say. *My version of Leah’s tale is an angsty one with no happy end. Speaking of which; Trigger Warnings: *Mentions Emotional Abuse and Mental Abuse along with Gaslighting *There is value dissonance at play, which includes underage marriage, sex and pregnancy, as in the medieval time period where Lilia’s memories take place, marrying young was acceptable and encouraged. That being said, the problematic stuff will be treated as such. *Mentions of a rough birth

My version of Leah is a tragic figure lost to history like many Princesses before her. All her life, Leah carried an intense guilt in her heart as her mother died in childbirth birth, leaving her behind with a resentful King and Henrik. The King, in particular, disliked her as he believed that Leah was the result of an affair as Leah was far too beautiful to be his. (He wasn’t a handsome man and always had difficulties believing his gorgeous wife ever loved him.) As such, the King neglected her, and Henrik, following his father’s example, did the same. When they did meet the two were cold and poisonous to her, often belittling every mistake she made. And sadly, she made a lot as she was always jittery from nerves. Because of the mental and emotional abuse inflicted upon her along with a lifetime of gaslighting, Leah became very fragile and timid as she was often bellowed at. It became her nature to become quiet and soft-spoken as being otherwise resulted in harsh punishment, especially from her strict governess, who was as kind as Tremaine was to Cinderella. Even so, she adored her father and brother as much as Silver loved Lilia. Thus, she always forgave them and made excuses for their behavior. “Father and brother are just stressed from their duties.” “They’re right to scold me. As a Princess, I should be better.” “I stole their beloved person away, so they have every right to hate me.” Leah to earn their love by helping the kingdom. While this didn’t earn the affection of her family, she did gain favor with the people. It was actually because of her that the King adopted the Orphans. Leah naively brought them all to live at the castle when she saw the state of the orphanage and her father didn’t want to lose face with the people, so he took them all as wards. (Though as soon as he had the orphans, he turned them over to the army, arguing that it was the best way to give them a future.) The one joy Leah had in life was the fairy tale books she had, which spoke of true love and whatnot, tales she believed 100% as there was no one to temper her expectations. This is partly why she fell in love instantly with the Knight of the Dawn when she met him. Speaking of which:

Leah met the Knight when he saved her from a kidnapping. Seeing him as her hero from a fairytale, she fell in love instantly as he inspired feelings within her that no one had before. (Puppy’s first love.) After this, Leah hung around him often, creating rumors that the two were in love. When the King fell sick, Henrik left with the Knight to create Lilia’s tragic backstory, while Leah stayed behind to pray for everyone day and night. She also attempted to use healing magic on him to keep him alive, even though her magic lay in dreams. (Note: her unique magic was the same as Silver’s. She often used this magic to update the Knight on the King’s condition.) When the two returned, the King was cured. As a “reward,” the King gave Leah to the Knight as his bride and sent both to rule over the fae land the Knight “won” for the humans. The King did this as he worried the Knight’s popularity would be a threat to Henrick’s rule in the future. Thus, his Majesty decided that sending the Knight away was the best option, and allowing him to marry Leah had the King keep face with the people. After all, how can allowing the Knight to wed the beautiful Princess, whom he “loved” and be allowed to rule the land he claimed for them not be a reward for his bravery? Leah was overjoyed as she believed marrying the Knight was the happy ending to her tale and that there would only be joy in her life. Thus, Leah and the Knight were wedded three days later—even though the Knight was a traumatized seventeen / sixteen-year-old while Leah was only fourteen.

The two are sent overseas, where Leah gets pregnant two months after their wedding. The pregnancy is rough on its own due to her age, but other factors make it rough as well. Instead of the happy ending she dreamed of, Leah has to deal with a husband who is suffering from severe PTSD, not helped by living in the castle of the “innocent” woman he killed. On top of that, there were enemy fae constantly trying to reclaim the stolen land. One even tried to assassinate her while pregnant. The only help she had was the royal chancellors, who were more concerned with their ambitions than her and often took advantage of her trusting nature and ignorance. There was also the Diurnal, who also have their own goals, and the fairy godmothers, who try their best but are limited in what they can do. Despite this, she persisted and tried to stay optimistic, doing what she could. But then—she discovered something that shatters her heart. One day, during an argument, Leah learned the Knight never loved her. At least not romantically. He only saw her as a darling kid sister and his Princess. However, he was too timid to reject the King or correct the people who misunderstood their relationship. This is the final crack that finally breaks Leah’s heart. No one loved her. No one ever would. Realizing this, she isolates herself, not even coming out to say goodbye to the Knight when he goes to handle what she is told is a land dispute. A few weeks later, the fairy godmothers tell her he died, and they gift her his ring for the baby. The despair she feels sends her into premature labor.

The process was rough, and Leah nearly passed away. She survived thanks to the fairy godmothers. Holding her child, she realized that he looked just like his father and believed that, like him, he’d never love her. The Princess tried to care for the baby but wasn’t emotionally or mentally able to handle a baby. On top of that, she has trouble producing milk for him. This worsened her depression, as Leah believed that not only did she fail as a daughter and a wife but as a mother as well. One day, the castle is attacked due to her advisors screwing up. As the castle started to collapse, Leah tried to reach her baby but was unable to get past the collapsing rubble. Thus, she had no choice but to leave him to the fairy godmothers. Instead of running, she tried to fight off the enemy and give the godmothers time to save her child. However, because of her broken state, she blots over almost immediately. In her Overblot form, she killed everyone, friend and foe alike, till only Silver, protected by the Fairies magic, remained.

When she was done, not even a corpse remained (hence the lack of bodies when Lilia arrived 400 years later). Then, Leah vanished, drained of life and magic by her Phantom, who wanders away, not leaving even a trace of the Princess.

Notes about Leah; *When creating her, I wanted Leah to be Malenore’s opposite in almost every way. Appearance-wise, Malenore is a tall brunette with an imposing appearance. Leah is small (mainly due to age) and blonde with a delicate disposition. Malenore was strong-willed and arrogant to sin—albeit, with reason. Leah was humble to a fault and fragile, as her name implied. (Leah can mean “weary” and “delicate /fragile” as well as “heavenly flower.”) Malenore was loved by her family, however, they were distant (if Malefica’s relationship with her was anything like the one with Malleus). Leah was close in proximity to her family but was hated by them. The dragon Princess was beloved by all who knew her, including her “knight.” Leah was admired by the people but never loved. (Or at least that’s how she felt, especially by the end.) Malenore was an adult—a young adult but still an adult—while Leah was a child. Maleonre will be remembered by history and those she loved, while Leah was forgotten to the point she was barely a memory, only recalled in passing. However, they had things in common as well, such as losing their husbands while they stayed behind to “incubate” their children. They then died to give others a chance to save their sons. And, regardless, they were doomed by the narrative to never be a part of their children’s lives. *Funnily enough, despite being fragile, Leah did have her own strength as she was still able to stand and keep trying despite all the times her heart got broken. It was just she had no one to teach her how to fight, and she was forced to endure things even an adult would struggle with. Had she time, Leah would have been a loving and doting mother to Silver. Silver, in turn, would have been more of a momma’s boy than Deuce and super protective.

Real quick on the Knight—because this post isn’t long enough—I hope no one thought I was villainizing him. I just took what I saw in canon—him not being able to stand up to the royal family and his need to please everyone—and used it to contribute to their tragedies. Anyway, that’s my overly long headcanon for Princess Leah. Thank you for reading it all, and feel free to share your thoughts and your own version of Leah.

#mine #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #twst spoilers #poor tragic Leah #the tragedy aspect may have been influenced by the Remarried Empress #which had been in my head for good and bad reasons #twst Leah #knight of dawn #twst Oc #kinda #twst chapter 7 #twst book 7 #repost #I tried to put the warnings in the tags but it wouldn't show up in search with them so

[starlahuskyz]

Chances - Chapter 1

A TLB fan story

Summary: It's 1988 and Jordan has been alone for a while now. She's tried to escape her past which has forever tied her to Santa Carla, but now has to learn to trust again. She also finds out that her past will always come back to haunt her.

GIF by @hypnoticvamp

This is my first ever fic and most likely one of my only ones. I plan on telling this entire story so stay tuned for updates. BTW I'm not a very good writer but I'm just telling this story for fun. If you don't like oc x canon stories then you are gonna want to avoid this one.

TW// none for now

Chapter 2

Feedback is appreciated ^ ^

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Boardwalk

Summertime only means one thing in Santa Carla, it brings in hordes of new tourists and visitors into this crazy town. And you can expect it to remain that way for the next few months. But amongst all of the people on the boardwalk, there is one individual who walks alone. She isn’t a particularly special individual, not really attractive or ugly, dresses casually but not really normally either. She’s a stranger to most people and seemingly can’t be read by most who pass her. She has one goal in mind and one only, she doesn’t let anyone get in her way as she goes.

Within a few minutes, she’s reached her destination…Max’s Video Store. Looking through the entrance she doesn’t see the owner, “Awesome…” She isn’t a fan of the owner. He always gives her a ‘look’ when she walks in. She makes her visit brief as she sifts through old VHS’s looking frantically for something that catches her eye. 

As she finally finds something, A new presence makes itself known by slamming its hands onto the box she was looking through. She winces as she already knows who it is.

“Before you say anything, please save it” She looks up at them with the most uninterested face she could muster.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, I was gonna simply admire you from afar…” They said with a snarky yet lovestruck smile. It was Marko…

That curly haired blonde who sported the most complex looking jacket she will ever see and wore black leather chaps. He also had the face of a Greek statue and eyes that she swore could change colors at will. A part of her wanted to feel flattered that he liked her, but at the same time she knew she didn't quite trust him.

“Well I’ll have you know that I’m pretty busy, so you should do yourself a favor and go with your buddies before I let you down again.” She walked towards the counter to pay for the VHS when she heard a new voice.

“Jordan! You didn’t tell us you would be here today! Why didn't you tell us?” A tall lanky blondie who looked like Twisted Sister wrapped his arms around Jordan’s much shorter frame and spun her around much to her dismay. “You guys don't need to know what I'm doing OR where I'm going!" She twisted and writhed in his arms as he simply dangled her over the ground.

Paul kept blabbering while Marko came up to her and simply said, “You said I should go with my buddies, but I already brought them here.”

Jordan finally got herself out of Paul’s arms and slammed cash onto the counter for her VHS. “You can keep the change just please let me get the hell out of here” The lady working the register simply smiled and laughed to herself “I know how you feel.”

“What’s the hurry?” A new voice intervenes. Everyone looks from what they are doing, it’s David.

Jordan could recognize the platinum blonde from anywhere. Walking up to Jordan he puts a rough hand on her shoulder. “You should know they are just excited to spend some time with you.”

“You forget yourself, it’s just Marko who wants to spend time with me. You guys are just third wheeling his sad attempt at flirting with me for god knows how many times. I’m sure he’s wonderful and all but I’d advise you to give him a wake up call.”

Jordan snatches the VHS off of the counter and makes a beeline for the exit before she is blocked by the one brunette of this club of crazies. “Well, you haven’t even given him a chance, so how do you know you don’t like him?” He grabs her shoulders and turns her around to face Marko who is giving her the biggest frown she’s ever seen. “See? You can make that frown turn upside down if you give him the chance to-” 

“What did I tell guys you about coming in here?”

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #oc x canon #tlb oc #tlb jordan