#My older cousin was the only one who seemed to know the word. The rest of us were clueless and just thrown off by this surprise verse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 3 months

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#391

“What? You think you are done faggot? Get back into place. I said, ‘Faggot, get back into place.’ No, no, no, you ain’t Kevin no more, not after I saw four men take turns spit roasting you. You are Faggot from this point on. Now it’s my turn to bust my nut….

“This changes everything between us. About time it does. I’m tired of hearing about Jesus. When my right-wing cousin asked me to take the 20-year-old son of a friend of hers along with me to see if he would like truck driving, I was reluctant. She told me you were a quiet boy who needed to come out of a shell. I filled out all the paperwork with the company so you could ride with me.

“Bend over the picnic table with your cunt pointing at that garbage can.

“When we met, I knew you were a faggot right away. You followed me into the men’s room. I started to get a boner right there. I saw you glancing at my dick at the urinals. I knew it was going to be a great two weeks together. But not ten minutes in my cab, I was hearing how much you love Jesus, and I knew this was not going to be good. And we hadn’t even started rolling.

“Now pull apart your cunt lips and push some jiz out.

“So before we left, I called my cousin. She told me that you are the son of her Baptist preacher and it would be a great favor to her to take you out and show you real America. Now my cousin doesn’t know that I’m a total fag fucker. So instead, I called two of my fellow drivers, Barry and Jimmy. You just met them; Barry was the first and Jimmy was the third guy to spit roast you. We drive for the same company on the same route on the same day. As you are Barry’s type, he wanted you ASAP. That’s why we are here at this rest area. That and this spot has this picnic table out back away from the eyes of the casual traveler.

“Push some more out. I want a good glob on my cock head. Damn, this cunt has been used before. And I’m not even talking about just today. It’s obvious that you also have experience in servicing and serving men. Your second fucker was this trucker that followed you and Barry back here. And he was slapping your face when Barry was plowing your cunt. And it wasn’t a love tap; it was a man properly using and abusing a faggot. He even used a fistful of you your hair as a handle. You seemed to take that roughness like it was nothing.

“So, I can reach over and pull you off the picnic table and push you on your knees…. Like that. Faggot, this is natural for you, isn’t it?... Where did you learn that you need to be treated like shit?...

“…You met older men from those kink sites?... …So I have a faggot to use as my personal cunt for the next few weeks?

“That face slap is for not addressing me with respect. That’s ‘Yes Master.’ You refer to all men as ‘Sir.’ You got that faggot?... I’m really going to like smacking you around.

“See that glob of driver cum on my dick head? Using only the tip of your tongue, scoop it in your mouth, but don’t swallow it.

“Now say, ‘I am a faggot whore whose only existence is to be abused by real men. I live for cock and cum….’ …Say it again…. …Again…

“You got me leaking. Turn your head to face the garbage can. I want to wipe my pre-cum on your cheek. Swallow that spunk and keep saying it.

“That’s good. Mmmm. Now say that you want to be abused without mercy…. And say that you don’t want to have a safe word…. So you do not want to have any say of what I plan on doing to you, and that your pleas to stop must be ignored…. Don’t look back at me; say it to the garbage can, cause that’s what you are, garbage.

“…Good that’s done. Now suck on my dick.

“Listen up faggot. I was talking with that second driver—the one that roughed you up while Barry was plowing your cunt. He left back here and made a bee line to his cab. When he came out, he looked pissed. He had a belt already doubled up, and he was heading back here to beat the shit out of you.

“I stopped him. He was pissed at you. He recognized you. He showed me his phone. It had a news article with a pic of you standing next to your father as your preacher father was going into the state’s senate to fights against gays. Now I tend to stay out of politics, but even I know of your dad’s name.

“I told him that you were being fucked by Jimmy and that random fourth guy that came out of nowhere. He wondered how I knew the details of what was going on as this area isn’t seen from the parking lot….

“I told him to look at my phone. Faggot, pull off my cock and look up. Damn, you are one hungry cunt. You don’t care about anything I have to say. That would explain why you don’t seem interested in how I knew about everything and every guy you were doing back here.

“If you look at my phone you will see a faggot kneeling in front of a man, both next to a picnic table. That faggot is you…. Yes, I have been watching you through my phone. The camera is located inside the opening to the garbage can there.

“Now it’s hitting you. Yeah, I told Barry to come up here and set it up. He has a lot of cameras in his truck. He streams his fuck sessions in his cab and makes a shit load of money on-line. By default, he has a copy of the video and so do I. So going after my phone won’t do you no good. So get back on your knees.

“It’s interesting, I did this to blackmail you into being my total bitch the seventeen days you are with me and to get you to stop with the religious shit. Barry was definitely game, as likes young fags like you. Jimmy just likes to fuck. This here was going to be a simple picnic table fuck.

“That all changed when Chuck—that would be the second driver—showed me his phone….

“…Don’t fucking say another word. I will smack you again. You are in a shitty spot here. First, you are naked as a rest stop, loaded up by four men, soon to be five with mine. Don’t bother looking for your clothes. Barry picked up your shit and put it in his cab; you were oblivious being spit roasted.

“When you leave this area, you will walk back to a row of semis buck naked. After my fat hog fucks you, your gape will be more pronounced, so you will have jiz running down your legs like some goddamned whore. Next, you were filmed doing and saying nasty things, things your Papa wouldn’t approve. So doing something stupid like running away is not going to go well for you, as that video can be edited to hide us but showcase your talents. Videos are easy to disseminate. You are kinda stuck in this situation, subject to whatever sexual whims that should come to mind.

“You are going to be filmed doing nasty shit going forward, but doing one video will have the same as ten. You understand your predicament?... Good. Good.

“Now get up and lean over the picnic table. I need to drop my seed.

“…Fuck, you are sloppy back here. The guys stretched you out enough, so you aren’t strangling my dick. And cum lube is the best…. Oh yeah, clamp down like that. We need to be very quick. There’s a timetable that needs to be met. We all are meeting up at a particular spot up ahead for our 10-hour DOT rest.

“The things that are planned for you..., I’m getting close just thinking about it. You are going to be used by so many men these next two weeks.

“Damn your hair was made to be used as a handle. Arch your back. Try almost to stand.

“Fuck that feels good. You ready for my load? Of course you are. You are cum dump faggot who lives to take load after load. You don’t give a shit who is fucking you, just as long as they breed you. You fucking slut. You whore.

“I’m gonna cum. I’m going to flood your guts with more cum. When I am done, you are to clean me off like a good faggot.

“Get ready. Here it cums! Here it cums! Here it fucking cums! Ahhhh Ahhhhh Ahh!... Fuck! Goddamn, your cunt is just what I needed.

“…Atta boy. Tastes nasty hunh? That’s the flavor of four men’s loads. Yeah you are a fucking pig. I knew it.

“…Let’s head on out. Hold on. Let me get that camera from the garbage can. …OK, let’s go.

“No. No. You are walking in front of me. I want whoever is in the parking lot to see a naked cum whore faggot. Walk slowly. Better yet. I got a fistful of your hair. I’ll control the pacing.

“Damn. Everyone’s gone except for me and Chuck. Barry split and he has your clothes… and probably your phone too. Don’t worry, you’ll get it back tonight.

“Let’s go over to Chuck’s cab.

“Hey Chuck!... I got the faggot here for ya! Naked and loaded up! Are they going to be there?... Fucking awesome!

“OK faggot get on up. You are riding with Chuck for the rest of today…. Awww shut the fuck up. I don’t care what you have to say. Chuck has arranged to have a gay biker gang join us tonight. His condition for arranging this was he gets you tied up in his cab for the day. Seems like a fair exchange….

“…I said for you to shut up. Keep insisting you have something important to say, and I’ll do a lot more than slam your faggot face against his cab.

“Listen here shithead. I don’t give a shit about you, or what happens to you. I don’t give a fuck about my right-wing nutjob cousin. And I don’t have any sympathy for your father and his evil fucked up ministry.

“I control what happens to you. And you are going in the cab of a fellow fag fucking driver, a man I just met, a man that has bondage equipment installed inside, a man that knows a biker gang. And I’m fine with all of it.

“Chuck, get down here. The faggot needs convincing getting up into your cab. Bring your belt. I can stick around to help you turn this sissy girl black and blue….

“Change your mind? Good. Get up there.

“He’s all yours Chuck.

“I hope to catch you later faggot… “…Oh faggot! I forgot to say, ‘Praise Jesus!’”

This story continues in Story #396.

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suugarbabe · 10 months

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Lover

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Word count: ~1.5k

Warning: mutual pining, fluff

AN: this idea came from @annaisabookworm so thank you love for the idea 🤭

You were sat at your house table, leg bouncing uncontrollably as your headmaster discussed the N.E.W.T level classes your year was due to start next week. It was the first dinner and you were already a nervous wreck. A sudden hand on your knee stopped your shaking, “You’re gonna churn the pudding with how hard your leg is jumping, y/n/n.” You turned to face the hands owner, “Sorry, Teo. S’just, these new classes this year have me a bit shook.” Mattheo smiled at you, “You’re like, the smartest Slytherin there ever was. You put too much pressure on yourself.”

You scoffed a little at his compliment, “Come of it, am not.” You ignored his latter comment, choosing to suddenly be very interested in the bowl of potatoes in front of you, scooping half onto your plate. Theo and Enzo stopped eating in front of you, eyes growing a bit large. You glared at them, “Something to say?” They looked at each other, then back to you, shaking their heads. The headmaster announced curfew for the night, encouraging all the students to indulge in the food in front of them, which most everyone did. You pushed the potatoes around your plate, barely eating. “If yer just playing wiff ‘em can I ‘ake a few,” Enzo held his fork over your plate, cheeks stuffed to the brim with chicken and beans. You rolled your eyes, pushing your plate towards him.

Blaise leaned in from your other side, “Ya sure your good, y/n/n?” You nodded, standing up, “I think I’m just gonna go back to the common room and chill out for a bit. See you guys there?” Your friends all mumbled forms of goodbye. You looked to Mattheo, who just gave you sympathetic eyes. You returned the look before turning back towards the doors and making your way to the common room.

“Ya gonna go ‘fter ‘er mate?” Enzo looked up from his plate towards Mattheo. “You know it’s vile when you talk with food in your mouth,” Mattheo didn’t even look in his direction, still staring at the doors of the great hall you had just walked through. “You know he’s right, cousin,” Draco piped up for the first time of the evening, “watching you pine after her for years is right boring at this point.” Mattheo turned his head then, “I do not pine after y/n. She’s my best friend, all of our friend mind you. I’m just worried about her. Sure, she gets anxious but it seems a little different today. I just care.”

Blaise groaned, rolling his eyes, “Come now, bruv.” Mattheo finished his meal in silence, refusing to respond to any more of his friends' teasing. He walked back to the common room in a daze, mind filled with thoughts of you. You’d been part of the group since everyone’s first ride into Hogwarts. Mattheo had known Theo, Enzo and Blaise nearly his entire life, their parents either being death eaters for his father or a loyal follower and Draco, well, he was Mattheo’s cousin so he was forced to know him his entire life. The five boys nearly missed the first train because they were goofing off on the platform, causing them to not find an empty compartment for themselves. Theo had suggested the one you were sitting in, saying you were cute. He immediately tried to hit on you like he’d seen older boys do with girls, but you had whipped out your wand and bound him. It was highly impressive for a first year, and Mattheo was obsessed. Theo apologized, you ignored him, and then you allowed the rest of the group to join you nonetheless.

Mattheo wasn’t exactly sure when the lines blurred from best friend to full on heart wrenching in love with you. It was always sort of there in his mind, that you were special…different. If he had to put a timeline on when he actually recognized a change in his feelings it would be about three summers ago, when you had asked everyone to come to your parents house for two weeks during the holiday. Mattheo had only ever interacted with you at school, in the castle. You weren’t old enough to go to Hogsmead until the following year so he never really got to see you in a non-school environment. And it was…nice, different. Something that he could see himself enjoying often. The next school year after that nearly all the boys noticed a difference in how Mattheo responded to and acted towards you. You, however, appeared to remain clueless. Mattheo almost preferred it that way, until he could really know how you felt towards him, if it were the same as himself.

When the boys entered the common room, it appeared completely empty. That was, except for a cloud of smoke rising from one of the back couches, followed quickly by a row of rough coughs coming from deep in your throat. Mattheo was by your side quicker than Draco on a snitch, ripping the cigarette from between your fingers, “What the bloody hell are you doing with one of these?” You remained laying on the couch, catching your breath, “Okay, one: that was rude of you to just snatch that from me like that. Two: nearly all of you guys do it. You always tell me it helps you relax, so…I stole some from Teddy’s nightstand.”

“Heeyy…that’s my emergency stash,” Theo was pouting, now sitting under the end of your legs. You sighed, rubbing your temples, “This is an emergency, Teddy…I’m buggin. Stressed out of m’fucking mind.” Mattheo threw the cig in the fireplace going behind him, Theo’s opened his mouth to complain again but the look on Mattheo’s face made him sink back into the sofa silently. Mattheo turned to you, holding his hand out palm up, “C’mon, grumpy, come with me.” You looked up at him, grabbing his hand, “Where we goin’?” His dimpled popped with his smile, “You know where.” You sat up now, swinging your legs down and placing your feet on the ground, “Carry me?”

He turned around, squatting down in front of you. He hooked his elbows over your thighs and around your knees while you wrapped your arms around his chest, resting your face in the crook of his neck. You giggled as he hiked you up higher and got a better grip on your thighs. Behind you Draco made a gagging face before Blaise playfully shoved his shoulder. The boys’ voices slowly drowned out as Mattheo carried you through the portrait hole, down the corridors and through the courtyard, all the way to the edge of what you both had designated as your spot: the black lake.

When he finally let you down from his back, you took your wand out, transfiguring a patch of grass into a quilt for you both to sit comfortably. Mattheo sits down first, beckoning you to follow suit. You settle between his legs, your elbows resting on his bent knees while he leaned back on his hands. You looked over the lake, it was your favorite to do at night, especially when stressed or anxious. You loved seeing the stars reflected on the water, dancing with the shifts and ripples from the creatures.

You felt Mattheo’s arms wrap around your middle, his chest now pressed against your back as he rested his chin on your shoulders, “Feeling less grumpy?” His tone was slightly teasing, but you knew he was curious about your real answer. That’s how Mattheo was, hiding his true feelings behind teasing and sarcasm. It was frustrating sometimes, made him hard to read, but right now you were thankful for it.

“A little less grumpy, yes,” you smiled into your answer, eyes still on the lake in front of you. “How’d you know this would help, hmm?” Mattheo held you a bit tighter, “Cause I know you, y/n/n. You’re my best friend.”

Friend. The word made you want to vomit. But instead of reacting you just settled further into him. “Why were you trying to smoke earlier?” You sighed, “I told you, I was just trying to relax.” You felt Mattheo shake his head, “You really shouldn’t smoke. It’s terrible for you, ruins your lungs.” You scoff, “Rich comin’ from you don’t ya think?” You felt his laugh against your back, “Yeah, but you’re better than me. Always have been. Don’t start stooping to my level now.”

You shook your head, “Don’t talk bad about yourself, Teo. I’ll make you sit out here and listen to me go on and on about all the good things about you and get all sappy just like you hate.” He laughed against you again, you both falling into a comfortable silence. Mattheo wanted to hear everything you had to say, what good things you could come up with. In his mind the list was short. You were leaning into him now. He shut his mind off, focusing just on the water in front of him.

You two sat there for a while, until you started to shiver and Mattheo convinced you to go back inside. He carried you back like before, except this time you rested your head on his back, trying your best not to fall asleep wishing you meant more to him than just a friend.

#Mattheo Riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #golden era #harry potter #mattheo riddle x you

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jeridandridge · 1 year

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Beach Day

Reader meets some of Melissa’s family during a trip to the beach.

My grasp of Italian is very limited as you’ll see 😅

“Are you sure you’re up for this, hon?”

You chuckle as you finish packing up the cooler for the day.

“Baby, if I didn’t feel like going I wouldn’t go. You’re more nervous than I am.”

Melissa huffs leaning against the truck, you two already in your bathing suits under your clothes for a day at the beach with her family. You’d met a cousin or two, but not almost the entire family. Even nonna was excited to spend a day in the sun.

You walk over to your girlfriend resting your hands on her hips. “It’s gonna be a great day, okay? I’m so excited to meet the people that raised such an amazing person.” You beam.

Melissa smiles cupping your cheeks with her hands bringing you in for a soft kiss.

“The last time I brought someone around it was Joe and they didn’t like him at all. I married him anyway and they ended up being right.” She explains.

You shake your head gently giving her hip a squeeze. “Parents love me. I’ll show you.”

An hour later you find yourself wheeling the cooler down the cement path to the sand, Schmmenti family in sight. You spot Melissa’s cousin Joey kicking a soccer ball around with his son and a bunch of other relatives seated on a picnic bench.

“Hey there they are!” A guy you recognize as Melissa’s uncle Tommy waves them over.

You smile when you see Melissa relax a bit, you two walk through the sand and grass getting to the table where she playfully shoves her cousin off when he goes to give her a hug.

“So you finally brought the woman you never shut up about!” Uncle Tommy teases her.

“Yeah yeah, don’t make it weird. This is y/n.” She smiles at you as you give a little wave.

“I already know this guy.” You playfully groan pointing at Joey getting everyone else to laugh. You look around the rest of the group nodding at each one naming off another aunt, cousin, niece, and finally, Melissa’s grandmother who’s happily lounging in a folding chair.

She has her dark hair piled up on her head much like Melissa wears hers and has kind brown eyes you’re shocked at how young she seems chalking it up to years of good food and company.

As the group disperses Melissa takes your hand walking you over to the older woman.

“nonna questa è la mia ragazza.” She smiles. You learned a little bit of Italian, and picked up a few words.

“Oh, Cara ragazza, she’s a pretty one.” The woman smiles standing up and kissing both of your cheeks.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mel’s told me so much about you.” You beam keeping your fingers laced with your girlfriends.

“Ditto, y/n. Welcome.” She smiles reaching out to squeeze your upper arm.

Your smile only grows when nonna takes her seat again and Melissa looks at you with almost watery eyes.

“Why don’t you go show off and kick joeys ass.” She nods to the sand where the guys are playing soccer.

You smirk and lean in kissing her cheek before you leave your shirt and flip flops near the cooler taking off in your bikini top and Jean shorts.

Melissa smiles sitting next to her grandmother on the lawn chair. As you run around with the guys giving joeys son a high five when he scores a goal Melissa’s smile widens.

“I like her.” Nonna nods in your direction, laughing when you fake Uncle Tommy out with the ball.

“She’s amazing.” Melissa smiles dreamily in your direction as you jog back over with a breathless laugh.

“Baby, do you have the keys? I forgot Anthony’s body board in the back.” You explain as the young boy bolts towards you. She fishes the keys out of her bag handing them to the excited pre teen.

“You only use that thing when your dads around, capeesh? Y/N heard you like surfing and insisted on one of those for today.” She smiles.

Anthony nods eagerly buzzing as he runs towards the truck.

“You need more sunblock, Mel.” You hum seeing her shoulders already a light shade of pink.

Nonna shoots her granddaughter a knowing look as you get the sunscreen from the bag, a look that says you had her approval.

#abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #Lisa Ann Walter #lgbt fiction #Melissa Schemmenti imagine

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suddencolds · 6 months

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The Worst Timing | [1/?]

hello!! I've been wanting to write a longer h/c fic for awhile. This is the exposition/first installment to that (4.8k words).

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written for these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

“A wedding,” Vincent repeats.

“Yes,” Yves says. “A wedding.”

It’s his cousin Aimee’s wedding—she’s four years older than he is. Back when he’d gone with his family back to France over the summers, she’d been one of the people he’d grown quickly to look up to—someone who knew the ins and outs, it seemed, to every stage of life he was in the process of stumbling through.

Yves has always been used to being looked up to—one of the natural consequences, perhaps, of being the eldest in his immediate family—and he likes to think that he’s good at giving off the impression that he has things figured out. But he’d grown close to Aimee at their family reunions precisely because she was everything he tried to be: strong-willed and resilient, self-sufficient even in the face of hardship.

Aimee’s getting married to Genevieve—someone who Yves has only met a couple times, but who manages to be one of the sweetest people he’s ever met. All in all, it’s a wedding he wouldn’t miss under any circumstances.

Leon, his brother, and Victoire, his sister, will be there, along with Aimee’s friends and the rest of his extended family. The problem is that Leon keeps in touch with Mikhail. Mikhail let slip that Yves has been seeing Vincent. Leon told Victoire, who told Aimee. And now Aimee is offering to pay for Vincent’s plane ticket to their wedding in France in the spring—a bit of a last minute arrangement, but she’d sounded so excited at the prospect that Yves was finally seeing someone new (“I’d love to meet him,” she’d said over the phone, “would it be too much to ask him to take a couple days off work? Oh my gosh, please give me his contact details, I’ll send him an invitation,” and she’d sounded so excited about it that he hadn’t had it in him to turn her down).

“It’s very last minute,” he says, “but my cousin’s getting married, and she really wants to meet you. It’ll be some time in early March, in Provence. She says she’ll pay for your flight, if you want to go, but you’d probably have to take a couple days off.”

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking at him. “And you want me to be there?”

“Of course I do,” Yves says. “I think it’s more a question of whether you want to be there.”

Vincent looks back at him, his expression carefully blank. “Are you sure you want to introduce me to your family? That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that you’d take lightly.”

“They want to meet you,” Yves says. “And I wouldn’t mind introducing you. I think they would really like you.”

“It would be a waste of your time,” Vincent says, quietly, “to introduce me as someone you’re serious about if we’re just planning to break things off.”

Yves is well aware of the fact. This arrangement with Vincent—the trust he places in Vincent; the practiced familiarity, the feigned intimacy—has an expiration date. The fact that he doesn’t know when the expiration date is doesn’t change the fact that it will, inevitably, end—when Erika gets the point, or fades from Yves’s life entirely; when Vincent finds someone he considers worthy of pursuing in actuality; when either of them become interested in dating again. Whatever it is that ends up ending things, Yves knows: what he has with Vincent right now is strictly temporary.

Perhaps it would be disingenuous to lie to his family about who exactly Vincent is to him. But then again, Yves thinks it isn’t much worse than any other relationship, with all of its ups and downs, all its hopes and uncertainties. It’s not like he can ever guarantee that a relationship is certain to work out, no matter how serious he feels about it in the moment. So is there really any harm to introducing Vincent as his current partner—as someone he feels certain about now, but maybe not always—and to leave it at that?

“It’s not really going to be my day, in the first place,” Yves says. “My relationship status is more of a conversation starter than anything. And even if you go by the timeline we told Erika, we haven’t even been together for a year. I don’t think my family will think much of it other than, like, a small and noncommittal window into what I’ve been up to. So it’s really up to you.”

“I think it would be fun,” Vincent says, “though only if you’re sure about having me there.”

“Great. I’m sure,” Yves says. “Everyone will love you.” He does think it’s true. Something about Vincent tends to have that effect, he thinks.

—

The fact that he and Vincent are traveling together is not exactly a secret.

Vincent agrees it’s best shared on a need-to-know basis—they won’t be the ones to bring it up, but if someone asks about it, they’ll answer honestly. It would be more work, Yves thinks, to have to coordinate lies about this.

But he runs into trouble not even two weeks later.

“So you and Vincent are taking the week off,” Cara says to him carefully, over lunch.

“Yes,” Yves says.

“Any plans?”

“I’m actually flying to France,” Yves tells her, uncertain about whether or not he should mention Vincent’s involvement—if Vincent has talked to Cara about this already, there’s no point in hiding anything, but he should be careful with the information he discloses otherwise. “One of my cousins is getting married there.”

“Oh,” Cara says, all too knowingly. “What a coincidence. Vincent told me he’s also planning on going to France.”

“I… heard,” Yves says, slowly. “He’s told me as much.”

“I didn’t realize France was such a popular tourist destination for march,” Cara says, smiling at him. “I thought most people went over the summer.”

“You know what they say,” Yves says. “France’s beauty knows no seasons.”

“You should ask Vincent which part of France he’s visiting,” Cara says, with a smirk. “Maybe you guys can book a hotel together.”

Yves is positive he’s being laughed at. “It’s the third largest country in Europe,” he says. “I’m sure the chance of us ending up in the same region is statistically very low.”

“I think Cara knows we’re fake dating,” he laments to Vincent later, in the break room. “I mean, the dating part, not the fake part.”

Vincent blinks at him. “Did you tell her?”

“No,” Yves says. He doesn’t think they’ve been that obvious about it. “I just told her I was going to France. She made some undue assumptions.”

“Oh,” Vincent says. “I told her I was attending a wedding there.”

An impromptu trip to France, over the same week at the tail end of busy season, to attend a wedding. Separately. Yves is starting to understand where Cara's suspicions might’ve come from.

“That would do it,” he says.

Perhaps they really need to coordinate what a need-to-know basis means. Cara is, thankfully, not the type of person to gossip, from what Yves has gathered, but if their coworkers know, that could complicate things. “I don’t think she’ll say anything,” he says. “But I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d assume.”

Vincent seems to consider this. “It’s fine,” he says. “Though it might prove troublesome when we decide to end things.”

“We can figure that out when it happens,” Yves says.

At some point in the foreseeable future, everything will go back to how it’s always been. Yves had been fine on his own for a long time before he’d met Erika. He’s sure he’ll be prepared for it when it happens.

—

The entire drive to the airport feels surreal.

Mikhail drives them. They leave at the crack of dawn—4am, on the dot. Victoire’s in the passenger seat, dozing off, and Leon, Vincent, and Yves are crammed into the backseat.

Yves sits in the middle—there’s not much leg room to go around in the first place, but he tries to take up as little space as possible, mostly for Vincent’s sake. He and Leon have been crammed into far smaller cars on far longer road trips.

Leon says, “This is the earliest in the morning I’ve ever third wheeled.”

Victoire, who has her eyes shut, says, “It’s very nice to meet you, Vincent.”

“Likewise,” Vincent says.

“Yves has told us all about you,” Leon says.

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking. “What has he said about me?”

“Mostly that you’re super hot,” Leon says. Yves, who is in a perfect position to elbow him, elbows him for that.

“You make me sound so shallow,” Yves says.

“But also that you’re really good at your job,” Leon continues, patting Yves on the leg. “Did you know Yves likes people who he’s slightly intimidated by?”

“I never said that,” Yves says.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Mikhail says.

“You guys are conspiring against me,” Yves says, and Vincent laughs.

Leon launches into a series of questions—about how they met, about who asked who out first, about what it’s like at work, about what kinds of things Vincent does for fun.

“No wonder Yves is totally whipped,” Leon says, after Vincent finishes telling a story about how he’d given a presentation at a conference in place of his then-boss, who had—due to unforeseen flight delays—found out last minute that she wouldn’t have been able to make it on time. Yves hasn’t heard this story before, but it doesn’t surprise him that Vincent would be able to pull that sort of thing off, even with such paralyzingly short notice. “You’re exactly his type.”

Just great. If anyone could dig a nice, fitting grave for him over the span of one conversation, Yves thinks, it would be younger brother.

“I can’t believe he hasn’t invited you over for dinner yet,” Victoire says, her eyes still closed. How much of this conversation she’s actually been awake for, Yves can’t say.

She makes Yves promise that, after their trip to France, Vincent will be over for dinner. (“Sure,” Vincent says. “Just tell me the date in advance. I’ll clear my schedule.” Yves will have to apologize to him after this—for some reason, Vincent has an uncanny talent for ending up invited to half the things Yves is personally involved in.)

Yves is awake enough to hold a conversation, but he finds himself yawning mid-sentence on more than a few occasions. Vincent doesn’t so much as yawn at all over the entirety of the car ride. Yves has no idea if he’s always up this early, or if he’s just naturally immune to tiredness—another signature of his good genetics, next to the fact that he looks like he’s just stepped out of a photoshoot, or the fact that he manages to look good in everything he wears. Some people just win the genetic lottery, Yves supposes.

For some reason, he finds he feels a little more tired than usual. Waking up early is never easy, but usually he’d be distinctly more alert by now. There’s a strange, uncharacteristic heaviness to his limbs—it’s the kind of grogginess he only experiences when he hasn’t been getting enough sleep for awhile.

It’s fine. They have an eight hour flight ahead of them—they’ll be flying into Marseille, and then being driven up to Provence, where the wedding will be taking place. He can catch up on sleep over the flight.

As they’re unloading the suitcases from the back trunk, Vincent says, “Your family’s nice.”

Yves laughs. “I’m relieved they haven’t scared you off yet. Sorry for the… well, interrogation, by the way.”

“I can tell you’re close to them,” Vincent says, a little more quietly.

When Yves looks over, something about Vincent’s smile looks almost wistful. Yves wonders, briefly, how well Vincent has kept up with his own family. If he’d ever been packed into the backseat of a small car, back when he’d lived in Korea; if over some long road trip, he’d ever had to come up with increasingly inventive ways to pass the time. If his relatives ever teased him, then, about the crushes he’d had when he was younger, or anything else. If the ocean that was suddenly between them came with another, less tangible kind of distance, the kind that even phone calls and international flights can never quite bridge.

Yves doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know how he’d go about asking if he wanted to know. How is it that sometimes, he feels like he knows so much about Vincent, but other times, he feels like he knows almost nothing at all?

—

Aimee has booked him a seat next to Vincent.

They’re a few rows away from the others—I wanted to seat everyone together, Aimee had texted him a few weeks back, but when I was booking Vincent’s ticket, the seats up front were all sold out, so I just moved you so you’d be sitting next to him.

Now, he watches as Vincent pushes his briefcase gingerly into the overhead compartment.

“You must not be new to flying,” he says.

Vincent nods. “I’m not.”

“Eight more hours,” Yves says, taking the middle seat so that Vincent doesn’t have to. “It’ll be over in no time, especially if you take a nap.”

“I have some work to get done,” Vincent says. “Only after the plane takes off, though.”

Right—no electronics larger than a cell phone until they’re 30,000 feet in the air. “I thought this was supposed to be your week off.”

“It is,” Vincent says. “I just want to make sure everything’s still in one piece by the time I get back.”

Yves has never quite been comfortable on planes. It’s not that he’s afraid of flying, or that the turbulence bothers him—it’s more just the cramped space, the noise, the anticipation, the discomfort—all of it compounds. It’s usually difficult to get to sleep, but he’s so tired right now that maybe this flight will be an exception.

There’s just one problem: whoever is in charge of the air conditioning in the airplane cabin really hates him. Compared to Provence, New York’s climate is generally more extreme—colder in the winters, hotter in the summers—so all he has on him right now is a thin jacket. It’d be perfectly reasonable attire in most situations, except for the fact that this airplane in particular is unusually frigid. It’s definitely cold enough to be distinctly uncomfortable, especially considering that he’s just sitting in place. Yves crosses his arms, suppressing a shiver.

“Do you think Aimee will be convinced?” Vincent asks.

“Convinced?”

“That we’re together.”

“I’m sure she has better things to do than play detective over the state of my relationships,” Yves says, with a laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“It’s why you invited me,” Vincent says, “is it not?”

“Pardon?”

“To show the rest of your family that you’re not still hung up over Erika.”

“I invited you for a lot of reasons,” Yves says. “For one, you’re good company.”

“So are all your friends.”

“I thought we could both use a week off,” Yves adds. “It’s France, in the springtime. What could be better?”

Vincent says, “I need you to tell me what to do.”

“What?”

“Your cousin paid for my flight,” he lists, counting off his fingers. “Your family is paying for the hotel. Your best friend drove me to the airport.” He says these things as if he’s listing off all the ways in which he’s indebted to them. “It’d be easiest for both of us if you told me how to make a good impression. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

Yves blinks. “I don’t think you’d need my help to make a good impression.”

“You could’ve taken anyone with you, but you’re taking me,” Vincent presses. “There has to be something you need me for.”

If there was nothing, you wouldn’t have invited me. The sentiment hangs between them, unspoken. But Yves can see it in Vincent’s expression.

“My favorite cousin is getting married,” Yves says, fervently. “To her fiancee—who is also super cool, by the way. My whole family is going to be there. Do you think I’d choose to endure an eight hour plane ride sitting next to someone I didn’t like?”

“Maybe,” Vincent says.

Yves shakes his head. “It’s true that my family wants to meet you. But if I didn’t want you to come to France with me, I could’ve come up with an excuse.”

He twists around in his seat so that he’s facing Vincent directly. Narrowly resists the urge to reach out and grab Vincent’s hand. “I like spending time with you. I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t. You don’t have to do anything out of the ordinary—if you have fun on this trip, that’s more than enough.”

Vincent stares back at him, his eyes wide.

Yves has a feeling he’s said too much. It isn’t Vincent’s fault for assuming this is all just for show, considering everything that’s come before. Part of it is, but another part of him just really wants Vincent to have fun—to take in the sights at the gorgeous venue Aimee’s sent him pictures of, to have a week off in one of the most picturesque countrysides in the world (Yves may be slightly biased, but still) and not have to think too hard about impressing everyone.

“Is that… okay with you?” Yves asks.

“Yes,” Vincent says. “It’s just unexpected.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Oh. Well. I’m sorry if I misled you, or anything.”

“You didn’t.” This time, Vincent really does smile—a sly, quicksilver thing. “For the record, I am very excited to go to your cousin’s wedding.”

“Thank god,” Yves says. “That’s good. I was beginning to think I was holding you hostage.”

He leans back into his seat, suppressing another shiver. Something about the changing pressure in the airplane cabin is making his head start to ache. It’s probably the elevation. Perhaps he should try to sleep just so that he doesn’t have to sit for eight hours with a headache brewing.

He shuts his eyes and tries. It’s no use. He’s tired, and the cabin is quiet enough, but it’s too cold to get to sleep—it feels impossible to get comfortable like this.

So he picks up a novel he’d been meaning to get to—something suspenseful, to offset the monotony of the flight.

When the seatbelt sign flickers off, Vincent unclips his seatbelt so that he can retrieve his briefcase from one of the overhead compartments, and spends the next half hour paging through multiple documents and leaving notes in the margins at a dizzying pace. Yves slinks down lower into his seat, trying hard not to shiver.

“Is it just me, or is it kind of cold in here?”

Vincent frowns at him in a concerned way that seems to suggest that it really is just him. Then again, Vincent is unfazed by New York’s cold winters, so Yves isn’t sure he’s the best point of reference.

“Do you need my jacket?” he asks.

“No,” Yves says quickly. “It’s not that bad.”

“Okay,” Vincent says. “If you’re certain.”

He turns his attention back to the screen, and Yves resigns himself to reading—or, more accurately, trying and failing to read. It’s mercilessly cold, and his head hurts enough to make focusing on any one thing an uncomfortable task. He gets through another couple chapters, finds himself rereading the same passage over and over again, and—finally, defeated—dog-ears the page and slides the book into the pocket attached to the seat in front of him.

The next time the flight attendants come around, Vincent says something to one of them Yves can’t quite make out. Yves asks for orange juice—it’s not supposed to be symbolic, or anything, but on the off-chance that this headache ends up being a precursor to something more unpleasant, he thinks it might be wise.

The flight attendant pours him the orange juice he’s asked for—no ice (right now, something ice cold is the last thing he needs)—and sets it down on the tray table in front of him. Yves stares down at it, blinking. He hasn’t eaten all day, but strangely, he doesn’t have much of an appetite.

He doesn’t register the flight attendant from before—the one Vincent talked to—is back until he hears Vincent’s quiet “thanks” to his left.

Something brushes against his arm.

He looks up. It’s one of those travel blankets they sometimes carry, neatly folded, though this flight hadn’t given them out to everyone at the start. They must be reserved—given only upon request, maybe.

“You said you were cold,” Vincent—who’s holding out the blanket for him—says, by way of explanation.

Yves blinks at him. He’s about to reassure Vincent, instinctively, that it’s not that cold—that he would’ve been fine without the blanket, that Vincent didn’t have to go out of his way to ask for one.

But his head hurts. He hasn’t been warm all flight. To say that the blanket is a relief would be a massive understatement.

“Thanks,” he says, taking it. “This is perfect. I won’t be cold with this.”

He ends up wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, pulling it tightly around him—like a cloak, or like the jacket that he might have brought with him if he’d had the foresight to anticipate feeling this cold on a commercial flight.

It’s nice. He’s still a little cold, with the blanket, but it’s enough to keep him from openly shivering.

He should really try to get some sleep, he thinks. It’s going to be evening in France when they land. A seat away from him, the window shutters are pulled up, but he can see, from the crevices around the window, that it’s light out.

“I’m going to try to nap,” he tells Vincent. “But wake me up if I need anything—elbow me if you have to. I’m not usually a heavy sleeper.”

“Okay,” Vincent says. “I’ll try not to wake you.”

“You can wake me whenever,” Yves says, muffling a yawn into his hand. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent smiles at him, the kind of smile that implies he thinks he’s working exactly as hard as he should be. “No promises.”

It’s not easy to get to sleep, despite his exhaustion. He lays there for a while, his eyes shut—it’s certainly warmer with the blanket, but for some reason, he feels strangely restless. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of being here, with his family, with Vincent—on the way to see one of the most important people in his life get married. Maybe it’s the cup of black coffee he’d downed this morning to be awake enough to help Mikhail navigate and, subsequently, awake enough to actually be useful at the airport.

In the end, he falls asleep to the static hum of the aircraft, to the sound of Vincent hammering away at his keyboard next to him, incessant and comforting.

—

Yves wakes to someone tapping him on the shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m up.”

“A ‘light sleeper,’ you said,” Vincent says. “We just landed.”

Yves says, “I’m wide awake.” The yawn that he hides behind one hand is apparently not subtle enough, because when Vincent looks away from him in favor of staring straight ahead, it looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

Vincent’s stowed away his laptop already—Yves hopes that’s a sign that he’s done with work for the duration of this trip, but more likely he just had to put it away for landing.

“How was the flight for you?” Yves says.

Vincent looks at him. “Uneventful,” he says, at last.

“Not enthralled by all the financial records you had to go through?”

“They were very enthralling. How was your nap?”

“Good,” Yves says, even though he doesn’t feel particularly rested. He’s just groggy, probably, and the headache is just as bad as it was, if not worse. He’s sure once he gets off the plane and gets some fresh air, he’ll feel much better. “I probably needed it.” His breath hitches, unexpectedly, he turns to the side, raising his arm to his face to shield the oncoming—

“hH-’IZscHH’iew!”

The sneeze is loud, embarrassingly, and it scrapes unpleasantly against his throat, which feels… off.

“Bless you,” Vincent says, frowning. He looks more concerned than he has any right to be.

Yves flashes Vincent a distracted smile. “Thanks.”

Everything—from the moment they step off the plane—is exhaustingly hectic.

The hotel in Provence is more than an hour away from the airport they’ve landed at. They have a bus to catch, which means that after they regroup with the others, it’s international customs, baggage claim, and then they’re headed, maneuvering multiple suitcases each, onto the bus. He sits next to Vincent, though on the aisle side, so that he can lean over and interject whenever Leon and Victoire say something that’s worth commenting on.

Other than that, he talks with Vincent, mostly—about Aimee, about how she’s been in his life for longer than he’s known how to write his name, back when his parents would take him back to France once or twice a year. (“She was practically an older sister to me,” he says, “except we never fought,” to which Vincent says, “You make it sound like not getting along is a requirement to be siblings,” to which Yves says, “It definitely is.”)

His parents flew into France yesterday, so they should be settled in already—they’ll catch up with them at the hotel tonight, if it’s not too late. He probably won’t see Aimee and Genevieve until tomorrow morning, at breakfast—and even then, that depends on how busy they are with the various wedding preparations Aimee’s been telling him about.

The roads nearing the hotel are uneven and winding. Halfway through the drive, Yves registers, faintly, that he isn’t really feeling any better from before. His head is still hurting from the flight, and when he swallows, he finds his throat feels perhaps the slightest bit sore.

He’s cold, too, in the sort of uncomfortable, persistent way that’s difficult to alleviate, even with extra layers or with a warm drink. He’s starting to suspect that maybe the airplane cabin hadn’t been the problem after all.

None of that is particularly visible to any of the others—that is, until he finds himself tensing up halfway through a sentence, burying his head into the crook of his elbow as his eyes squeeze shut—

“God, sorry, I— hh-! hHehh’iiZZSCHh’iiEW!”

“Bless you,” Vincent, Victoire, and Leon say to him, all at once.

“You’d better not be getting sick,” Leon says, turning to him, with the sort of tone that implies that he’s joking. “That would really be the worst timing.”

“I’m not,” Yves says, swallowing against the soreness in his throat. “I promise.” Or, perhaps more accurately—he can’t be.

It will be the perfect wedding, he thinks. Aimee has planned it out meticulously, and she’s one of the most thorough people he knows. The weather forecast says this week will be sunny and temperate. He’s here, in France. Tomorrow, he’ll be surrounded by his extended family, and in the afternoon he and Vincent will head off to the welcome party, and he’ll get to give Aimee the gifts he’s gotten for her and introduce Vincent to everyone formally. Everything will go as planned—the welcome party, the wedding rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, and on Saturday, the wedding and the vows.

It will be perfect, because it has to be. Yves will be present, and attentive, and he’ll give the speech he has prepared at Aimee’s wedding, and they’ll all remember this week fondly. Even considering the small, almost negligible chance that he’s coming down with something, there are more important things he has to worry about right now, which is to say: Yves is going to do this right.

He’s going to make sure of it.

[ Part 2 ]

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i'm sorry if this exposition is like #comparatively uneventful 😭😭😭#this entire fic was written with the intent of giving people-pleaser yves the worst time possible #so i promise that is to come... in the future (if i have the time and bandwidth to write more and if people want to read more)#yvverse #my fic #fun fact - i used to refuse to write characters with anything worse than a cold (the flu included) just as principle #clearly that changed over the years haha

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

About Last Night

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Req from @noteonthepolaroidpicture : all of the baby bats either in velaris or in some other court (maybe autumn n they’re older along with Maude or something) plan to sneak out and go to Rita’s (or some bar in another court) and baz is very much ‘they cannot catch all of us’ and of course they all get caught but it’s a very admirable effort by them. And Knox is very much ‘I told you’

Warnings: Creepy guy hitting on Zuzu and Asteria, drinking, partying, mentions of blood.

Word Count: 5,211

Notes: A little taste of the older bat babies a lot of you have been wanting. Enjoy! 🥰

_________________________________________

“Look Giddy, I know you want to see your girlfriend and all that, but if we get caught, we’re in deep shit,” Wren argues, a stern look on his face and arms crossed tightly over his puffed out chest, trying to seem like he’s the one in charge.

He isn’t.

“If we get caught,” Gideon defends, before adding as an afterthought, eyebrows furrowed, “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

He rolls his eyes at all of the knowing looks his sisters and cousins give him at that little statement, cheeks tingeing red in betrayal.

“Besides,” he brushes off, coming around to Baz’s side. He slings an arm over his cousin's shoulders, an easy grin replacing the frown he’d just been wearing, knowing the younger male will be the easiest to convince to agree to his antics, “If we don’t go, we’ll have no cool stories to share when we’re older.”

Wren's mouth parts, another protest on the tip of his tongue but Gideon’s quick to cut him off, “And, if you don’t think that our parents are guilty of sneaking off you’re only playing yourself, Wrennie.”

The latter cringes at the use of his childhood nickname, sharing a look with Nyx.

“You’re not talking about a different bar Giddy, you’re talking about a whole different court,” Sif wrinkles her nose at her older brother, and Castor agrees.

“And one in Autumn.”

“Fine,” Gideon responds breezily, but the rest of his family knows he’s not about to let this crazy idea go. “Stay here. Go to the same hole-in-the-wall our parents have been going to for centuries. Baz and I will go. Right Bazzy?”

Wren's younger brother takes a moment, looking around the circle at each of his own siblings. Wren, with his wide eyes, pleading with him silently not to agree. Zuzu, looking as bored as ever, giggling with Asteria over some male she’d seen in Summer. Jax is as stoic as always, but that pinch in Baz’s gut tells him that his younger brother could use the excitement.

And the twins. Malos, who’s picking the dirt from under her nails with the curved tip of her most precious blade, smirking while Knox speaks into her mind–

The group startles as someone stumbles out the backdoor of the bar and into the alley, clearly drunk out of their mind. The bassy music and loud conversation spill from the building until the heavy door swings shut, cutting it off abruptly.

The male digs deep into his pockets, grunting as he struggles to free his hand from the tight fabric once he’s grasped whatever is so important, unaware of the eleven sets of well-trained eyes watching him, grinning triumphantly when he produces a thickly rolled snout.

He places it between his lips, bringing his free hand to the end of the joint, and with the snap of his fingers a flame flickers to life. Knox’s brows twitch while Malos’ eyes widen with intrigue at the blatant use of magic.

The male hadn't noticed the large group of young adults arguing, for they’d all gone silent in his presence, watching the drunkard struggle with his treat. He suckles at the tip of the joint, holding his breath to let the smoke leech into his lungs, before exhaling all of his worries away, white smoke curling from his mouth like the few shadows sweeping around the group protectively.

Mirthroot.

The male coughs into the crook of his arm at the strong flavor, the smoke sticking to his throat, and finally seems to realize that he’s not alone. He blinks once, twice, trying to clear the glaze from his vision.

He staggers closer to the group, not picking up on the way they all bristle, wings tucking closer to their backs with tension.

It’s Zuzu and Aster he stops next to, of course it is. They’re dressed scantily, ready to head into the bars and immediately wander off from the rest of their families in favor of prowling the dance floor for potential suitors, waiting by the bar drinkless until males and females alike send one their way.

Zuzu looks over her shoulder at the man. He’s a half head taller than her in her heels, not handsome, but not quite ugly either. So she forces her red painted lips into a sultry smile, batting her eyelashes, the face she’s mastered, one that will get her almost anything she wants from any stranger.

It works, the corner of his mouth lifts in response, gaze flicking towards Asteria who’s also smiling at him like he’s the most handsome thing they’ve ever seen, watching with round eyes as he brings the joint to his mouth for another drag, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

“Two very pretty girls,” he grins, sidling up close to Zuzu. His voice is like gravel, like he’s smoked a tinge too much mirthroot tonight, “Might I have the pleasure in–”

“Yes,” Zuzu agrees immediately, plucking the joint from his grasp. The male’s mouth parts in protest but Asteria’s stepping forward, trailing a red dipped nail down his alcohol stained shirt.

“We’ll look after this while you go inside and get us some drinks,” her smile is alluring. He seems to mull it over for a second, hazy gaze drifting down to where her hand is on his chest, up to her gleaming violet gaze and then over to Zuzu, who has his joint hanging limply between her clawed fingernails.

He agrees then, stumbling back a step as he rushes to get the pretty females their drinks, calling over his shoulder in a rough slur, “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere, pretty girls!”

Malos makes a face while Castor seems awestruck at her older cousins who snicker to each other as the male gives them one last eager look before dipping back inside. They mentally take notes at how easy Zuzu and Aster have made it look.

The males of the group relax slightly now that the male has swooped inside like a knight on a mission from princesses, although, they suppose that’s nearly what they are, with their parents titles. Tension melts from their tight wings. It’s much too early for their talons to be ruffled by some asshole in the street.

“You’re not going to smoke that, right?” Nyx points disgustedly at the man's joint in Zuzu’s grasp.

She rolls her eyes, red lips curving into a wicked grin as she stubs it out on the side of the building and holds it up with sparkling eyes.

“Let’s see what this will get us in Autumn.”

“Not you too,” Wren groans, brushing a hand through his dark hair, free hand on his hip. He looks towards Jax and the twins for some sort of reinforcement, even though he’s the oldest of the six.

“Knox says we’ll get caught,” Malos provides in a bored tone, sheathing her knife and crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn’t want to burst Wren’s bubble, but a part of her is itching to go, to explore a different court.

Wren breathes a sigh of relief but it’s short lived because Baz’s mouth curls into a splitting smile. All of his siblings groan at the sight, knowing exactly what that look means.

“Anyone else care to wager how far we’ll get before mom and dad find us?”

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

Maude Vanserra meets them at the border of Autumn, her younger sister and brother in tow.

She’s thrown herself into the arms of Gideon, who, despite telling his sisters and cousins that Maude is not his girlfriend, secretly is.

Juniper perks up at the sight of Sif and Castor, nearly flinging herself into a group hug with her two best friends, while Rook grows smaller under the lingering gaze Malos throws his way. The youngest has been forced out of the palace by his sisters, who, for once, actually want him to go out with them.

He’s a dashing young male, with his unruly amber hair brushed back from the glowing embers of his eyes, a crisp white shirt hanging off of his thinner frame, the first two buttons undone in haste.

He’d much rather be at home, reading strategy books or playing whatever wraith he can find in a game of chess, especially when he catches sight of Gideon and Baz, two of the loudest troublemakers in Prythian.

“C’mon,” Maude squeals, grabbing Gideon’s hand and tugging him along to the front of the group, “Let’s get this party started!”

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

Chlo’s is nestled in the foxholes of the Autumn Court, a place where none of the Night Court children had been before. In fact, they're pretty sure they aren’t allowed to be in here, not because of who their parents are, but because the city reminds them of Velaris, hidden and protected from above ground.

There’s music in the streets, not dissimilar to the music found in the Night Court. Bonfires litter the foxholes as they walk, males and females alike gather around the fiery pits, dancing and drinking and laughing the night away.

Knox shakes out his wings, brushing off the uncomfort he’s feeling from being unable to see the stars in the sky, sharing a look with Jax, who looks equally as uneasy.

He’s regretting not slinking away with Malos, who never truly let herself have a night off from Spywork, their shadows whispering in his ear her whereabouts.

Even Wren has given up on complaining once they’re entered the bar.

It’s nothing like Rita’s, that had been around for ages. Chlo’s is all dipped cedar and dark pine, flanked by a pristine cafė and a rundown storefront that claims to do psychic readings. Faelights beam in colored glass jars that are swinging throughout the room like strobes. The folk music from around the bonfires disappears as the plucky strumming of the guitar and deep bass of the drums plays unabashed, the bodies of fae and creatures alike gyrating to the lust lined music.

“Now this is awesome,” Zuzu breathes, dark eyes casting around the room in wonder. She peels away from the group with Aster on her heels, mirthroot joint tucked behind a pointed ear as they beeline towards the bar, eager to try the autumnal flavored drinks.

Castor, Sif, and Juniper head for the dance floor, giggling like school girls as they slip through the crowd with ease, hands linked together like the flower children of Spring.

Even Jax seems to be feeling lighter, absorbing the would-be overwhelming emotions filling the space, had he not mastered his powers at a younger age. The air is filled with excitement, carelessness, and a hint of lust that makes his throat thick. His hazel gaze glosses over as he revels in it, mouth twitching into a blissful smile.

Nyx and Wren find them an unoccupied table, settling into the chairs with minor struggle, the wings at their backs shifting awkwardly to wrap around the backrest. Jax slips into an empty seat without complaint, looking lighter than he has in years, while Knox kicks out another with a heavy boot, flipping it around to straddle the high back of the chair, wings resting comfortably at his back.

Baz, Gideon, and Maude move towards the bars for drinks, leaving Rook standing nervously at the table full of tall winged males, clad in all black and as intimidating as the cauldron itself.

He really should’ve stayed home, the youngest Vanserra thinks as he slumps into one of the empty seats.

Knox blinks, looking around the bar with all-seeing eyes. He hasn’t called his shadows back, figures it would be safer for Malos to have them creeping along with her while she’s snooping through the Autumn Court. He sends her a mental note not to stay out too long, to which she replies immediately, Missing me already?

Dearly, sis, he replies with a roll of his eyes.

Her laughter echoes in his mind and with quick word that she’s already on her way back to meet them, she’s gone.

Knox tries to settle into his seat, but finds himself at a loss. Malos is on her way and he’s with his siblings, but the bar is nearly too dark for him to be able to sign across the long table to Wren on the other side, and he isn’t sure how to conversate with Rook, if he even knows sign language, and Jax seems to be strangely in a world of his own right now, so fiddles with the thick ring on his finger while he waits for his drink.

Wren and Nyx are in deep conversation when a tray full of drinks slams down on the table between them, held by a grinning Baz.

“You’ve got to try these,” he exclaims, handing out shots to Nyx and his brothers. Maude and Gideon follow with their own trays, pitchers of drinks and a multitude of shots line each, presumably for the rest of their party.

Wren sniffs at the glass Baz hands him. The singing smell of alcohol burns the back of his throat and the tinge of cinnamon chokes him as he swallows the dark liquor down. He makes a face, frowning up at his brother.

“What in Mother’s name is this?” Nyx asks for both of them.

Baz shrugs, clinking his glass against Gideons and Maudes who’s cups are raised in a silent toast to themselves, “I don’t know but it’s awesome, isn’t it?”

The two oldest share knowing looks, well aware not to trust what Baz suggests because it’s most likely the thing that will get them in trouble.

Rook takes his like a pro, slamming the empty glass onto the table and quickly reaching for another. His pale, freckled cheeks have a rosy blush to them from just the first drink, and all of a sudden the first few undone buttons of his shirt don’t seem like they weren’t clasped because he was rushing, but now seems purposeful as his shoulders loosen with the alcohol.

The drink turns out to be some sort of cinnamon moonshine Maude had told them would put them on their asses when they’d each eagerly reached out for a second shot.

Jax forgoes the liquor, opening his senses more and more, letting the happiness and fun wash over him, loosening his tight shoulders. He turns to speak to his youngest brother, catching the prick of discomfort he feels when his eyes lock on a pretty female slinking through the crowd.

His mouth goes dry at the sight of her and he’s quickly mumbling to the youngest as he slides from his chair, “Be right back.”

Knox puffs out a silent breath as he watches his brother go, slinking through the writhing bodies with the stealth of a snake. He sits up in his chair, trying to follow Jax’s path but he loses him quick enough, slumping down, fingering the rim of his glass.

His dark eyes cut to the clock behind the bar, taking note of the time. He knows that their father is going to catch them, there’s a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach that says so, but even so, it’s nice to see Gideon with his girl, his siblings letting loose.

If only he himself could do the same.

Rook looks as bored as he is, tipping back on the two hind legs of his chair, a drink clasped close to his chest as he watches with sharp eyes both the party members and the crowd around. Knox watches intently as the youngest male does so, the gleam of his golden necklace catches in the bouncing faelight but the shadowsinger can’t quite make out the shape of it.

He averts his attention before he gets caught.

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

Malos stalks into the bar thirty minutes later, her itch to spy around the Autumn Court unfulfilled.

She’d wanted to find out more about the shadow hounds she’s heard so much about, looking to try and lure one out with her own shadows, but hadn’t caught sight of one of the protected animals of the Court.

She pushes through the bodies without a care, and no one dares call her out for her actions once they see her glower, the massive wings and fighting leathers. They don’t even know about the numerous weapons sheathed within them.

She almost wants one of them to bite back at her, stir up some trouble. Preferably someone at least twice her size or with a knack for fighting.

She feels up for a little challenge.

But no one does, not even her older sister when she brushes through her and Aster, her shadows trailing her like obedient dogs.

Zuzu tugs on her hand but it’s not a fight she wants, laughing tipsily as she tries to get Malos to dance with her.

A smile tugs at the corner of Malos’ mouth, all she will allow before she’s twisting Zuzu into a spin, twirling her right into Aster’s arms. The pair spill into a fit of giggles before deciding to get another drink.

The younger sister takes the unoccupied spot next to Knox, scooping up an abandoned shot and knocking it back like it’s nothing. It’s sweet, the taste of cinnamon coats the back of her throat like syrup and she grimaces at the taste.

Not even her Aunt Nesta would drink this shit.

She doesn’t even get a chance to speak to her twin before Nyx is sliding into Jax’s empty seat, slinging an arm over her shoulders with an easy grin on his face.

Malos blushes at the contact, trying to shove the older male off of her. The heir doesn't budge, just plants a wet kiss to her cheek and beams, holding up another drink for her to take.

“Where’ve you been?” Nyx asks loudly–knowingly–in her ear.

She cringes away on instinct, glaring at the sly look on her twin's face, who blanches under her gaze, smartly averting his gaze to try and catch a glimpse of Jax.

She can smell the liquor on his breath. It’s hard not to, with all of the empty glasses littering the table. He’s faring better than Baz and Gideon though, who have their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, drunkenly serenading Maude and Wren, who are only encouraging it.

“Around,” she replies smoothly, voice even like her father taught her.

If she’s going to be Nyx’s spymaster some day, she’ll have to keep practicing.

“You need to catch up,” is all he replies, cheersing his glass against hers.

Reluctantly, Malos takes the drink, glancing at Knox on the other side of her.

How much longer?

Should be any minute now, he replies, arms crossed as he leans on the tall back of the backwards chair, looking as relaxed as ever for someone who’s awaiting the downfall of their plan.

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

Baz should’ve seen it coming, he really should have.

But he’s having too much fun in the Autumn Court, with their fast-paced music, whimsical drinks, drunk and partying with all of his family. It’s everything he wanted tonight and more; dancing with the girls, trying to out drink his brothers.

His shadows are hissing in his ears but the bass is too loud and he’s not focused, can’t quite hear the urgency over the fun that he’s having. He bats them away when they ruin one of his toasts, and Rook nearly topples out of his seat when they skitter his way.

Three things happen all at once.

One.

The shadows beneath the table awaken, shifting and slithering around each of the Night Court children’s ankles and pulling tight, chaining their legs to the ground.

They startle, sharing wide eyed looks between each other and harsh swallows of guilt, knowing they’re in deep shit.

Two.

Sif and Juniper’s beaming smiles drop, looks of terror replacing them as they catch sight of the bulky figure striding for them. The crowd parts easily, some grumbling about how the night is going to turn chaotic from the sight of those broad wings, some sneering at the Night Court females.

Castor hasn’t noticed, back to the looming male. She’s having fun, buzzing from the spiced cider she’s had and dancing wildly to make her sister and Juniper laugh. Her eyes are shut tightly, grin stretching across her face so hard her cheeks ache, until she runs into the brick wall of the male at her back.

She spins on her heel, ready to tell them off but her mouth goes slack as she stares wide-eyed up at him, a firm frown on his face.

“Dad?”

Three.

A shadow crawls over the shoulders of the two females at the bar, drinking in the attention from a group of fit fae males while they await their cocktails of choice.

If they had been paying more attention they would’ve felt the rippling power throughout the nightclub, seen the fae lights flickering overhead.

They share a quick look and a low curse, before Zuzu and Aster paint on their most innocent faces as they turn towards the crow of darkness standing at their backs.

The High Lord of the Night Court stands behind them, arms crossed over his chest, a disappointed look on his face. Rhys has even put on one of his most extravagant crowns for the occasion, dark painted iron and gleaming onyx gems that drink in all of the light.

The young warriors surrounding them cower under the harsh violet gaze of the High Lord, slowly backing away in hopes he won’t notice.

“Let’s go,” he growls, grabbing each female by their wrists and winnowing away into nothingness.

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

“Knox wins, again,” Malos mutters, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes.

They’d all been dragged back to the Night Court without a word from their fathers, and now they’re all standing in a line before them, mothers and fathers furious with them for their actions.

Her twin looks down the line of siblings and cousins, a smirk on his face that clearly states ‘I told you so,’ but when his fathers withering glare turns his way he ducks down bashfully, shrugging in defense, signing a lame ‘I’m sorry,’ that he knows will do nothing to get him out of trouble.

“This isn’t something to be won,” Rhysand scolds. His heart hasn’t stopped racing since he’d learnt of his children’s venture to the Autumn Court. And while Beron was no longer an issue at hand, there are many other things that could’ve happened had he showed up any later. “This isn’t some game!”

Rarely have they seen the High Lord like this. Once, when they’d ruined a High Lords meeting by releasing a young snowcat they’d found roaming outside during their snowball fight in Winter, and the other, when they’d all banded together when they were young, trying to steal a slice of the enormous Starfall cake before dinner. The entire table had fallen to the ground, destroying all of the desserts in front of the entire party. They were sent to bed early that night.

Azriel hasn’t spoken. He’s absolutely fuming at what the children have done. A part of him feels so stupid, his shadows screeching in his ears hadn’t been enough to wake him from his deep slumber, after having taken you three times since arriving back from a long trip to the Steppes.

His children had done well in choosing tonight to sneak out, he had to give them that.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with them. Interrogate them all separately like he used to do when they were younger, though he knows that his children had learned some of his ways and have most likely made up a story to all tell their parents.

On the other hand, it’s quite obvious who the masterminds behind the plan are.

But Cassian asks anyway, slipping easily into the voice he uses when he’s commanding an army, “Who did it?”

For a moment, none of their children move. There isn’t a twitch of a hand, a flicker of a gaze to point out the culprit.

At least, not until Rhysand and Azriel let their power leech a little.

That would always get them to break.

The rest of the children flinch, frantically pointing at Baz and Giddy, who sway in their spots, though they’ve seemed to sober up tremendously since getting caught, knowing they’re in deep shit.

They seem to realize at the same time that they are pointing at each other, frowning and protesting at the same time, “Hey!”

“Basil, Gideon, stay put,” Rhys’ tone is fierce, a pointed look pinning the two young males to their spots, “The rest of you, get out of my sight.”

None of the other children dare to respond other than quickly filing from the room with you, Feyre, and Nesta on their heels.

Azriel studies his son intently. His eyes are glossed over, cast downwards to the floor because he knows he’s in trouble. There’s a leaf shaped shot glass tied around his neck and Azriel can smell the stink of moonshine from where he stands.

Gideon isn’t much better off. Mouth bruised and neck littered with love bites from the eldest of the Vanserra daughters. His hair is a disheveled mess and his shirt is rumpled.

They look utterly guilty.

Rhys takes the lead. He’s acting as High Lord first instead of concerned father and uncle, since this incident is a multi court disaster, and he knows his brothers are too infuriated with their sons to speak right now.

“Do you know how much danger you could’ve put everyone in?” Rhys asks, violet gaze unwavering, “I had to send a raven for permission to retrieve you all.” He’s disgusted, they can tell. Baz can hardly look at his father, for fear of the utter disappointment he’ll see.

Gideon opens his mouth to respond but Cassian is quick to silence him, “I don’t want to hear it, Gideon. This is the most foolish thing you’ve ever done! And putting your sisters into that kind of danger all for a female? What were you thinking?”

His son shrugs, biting his tongue because he wants to yell back that Maude isn’t just some female. Baz tries, “But we had Wren and Nyx with us! And Malos and Knox! And Jax! We’re all trained, we know how to defend ourselves!”

He doesn’t know what’s worse. The fact that Azriel responds with an icy calmness, when Baz wishes he would raise his voice and scream at him, or the fact that of course, his father is right.

“That’s not the point, Basil. You may know how to defend yourselves, but in a different court, should something have happened, it would not be so easy to help you out of it.”

The shadowsinger’s frozen with anger, with fear. He’s immediately brought back to his childhood, when he was locked away from the rest of the world. If his children had been seized and locked away like he was…he can’t even think about it, the churning in his stomach is enough. His mind is racing a thousand miles a minute, and hasn't calmed since getting all of the children back to safety in the Night Court.

He’s afraid he’s losing his mind.

A gentle thrum vibrates in his chest, like a purr. You, calling out to him through the bond, sensing and sharing his fears, but trying to be supportive in the only way you know how while you’re in separate rooms.

He eases only slightly.

“Your brothers and sisters are not spymasters yet, you should remember that,” each word tastes like acid, he hates the fact that he even needs to be having this conversation.

Baz’s shadows pick up on the well-hidden emotions of his father and his throat goes thick with emotion.

“Dad–”

“Enough, Basil,” Azriel raises a hand in response, shaking his head slightly, “Hear your punishment with no complaints. Then, we are going home.”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles, cheeks burning with shame as he steps back next to Gideon to await his punishment.

Rhys looks back and forth between them, trying to decide a punishment worthy of sneaking out the court. He knows that Gideon is a young male in love for the first time, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the thought of what he was like when he was young and in love.

And Baz…he knows Baz means well, that he wants to please his siblings, wants them to have a fun time no matter what they are doing. He has much to learn, if he ever wishes to be as good a spymaster as his father or warrior like his uncle.

“Gideon,” Rhys starts and the older of the two looks up, ready to accept his punishment, “You’re to help Aunt Elain out in the gardens. You’ll be–”

“But what about my allergies?” he protests loudly. A harsh look from Cassian shuts him up, huffing quietly, “Yes, High Lord.”

“Basil,” Rhysand turns to his other nephew, “You’re going to spend one hour a day with Bryaxis.”

Baz’s mouth drops open in shock. He glances to his father whose eyes have widened only slightly, before they get that familiar gleam, and he knows he’s speaking to his High Lord.

You can’t put him down there, Azriel hisses to his brother.

And why not? Rhys’ brows twitch but he doesn’t avert his gaze from his nephews.

This is Baz we’re talking about. Baz and Bryaxis? I can’t even imagine the kind of friendship my son will have with the beast…what kind of trouble they’d get into.

Shit, you’re right, Rhysand agrees, before amending his punishment, “I’ve changed my mind. Baz, you will be bringing Amren her dinner for the next two months.”

“Fuck me truly,” Baz mutters under his breath because she’s a way scarier beast than the monster in the library is.

Gideon can’t help but to be relieved with his punishment, mild compared to his cousins. He’ll take an itchy nose over having to take blood to Aunt Amren anyway.

“And the both of you are on doubles for training until your father’s deem you sorry enough to stop,” his violet eyes cut to Cassian’s, then Azriel’s, a hint of amusement glimmers there before he finishes addressing the young males, “Starting this morning. At first light, which is now only an hour away. Rest up.”

They are definitely going to make their son’s hangovers a living hell.

Baz bites back a groan, shoving Gideon when the older boy starts for the door. He stumbles and throws a glare over his shoulder at his cousin, but chooses not to say anything because the entire thing was his idea and Baz hadn’t ratted him out, even though he easily could’ve.

“And one more thing,” Rhysand calls after them, and they turn slowly, a bad feeling settling in the pits of their stomachs.

“You’ll be walking the stairs in the House of Wind, right now.”

“Try not to be too late for training, boys,” Cassian adds, siphons flickering with his words.

He owes Baz big time.

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valentinetypewriter · 8 months

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The Lion And The Snake - Chapter One

Summary: the Black siblings and the Marauders hate each other, and nothing and no one will ever change that, well at least that's what they think

Masterlist - Fancast

Notes: I'm changing the Yule ball to be an annual thing and not a triwizard tournament thing. Also I'm not entirely fluent in French so I'll be using google translate, so I apologise if anything is incorrect. And lastly I'm adding in just a random oc that will become more important later on - let me know your guys thoughts on this fic in the comments

Warnings: bullying, fighting, mean Marauders, slytherin Sirius, badly translated French

Word count: 1,944

The problem with Gryffindors in general was that if you weren't in their house they didn't seem to think you were worth their time, they were all so self assured and confident in a sort of 'I'm better than everyone else' sort of way, and even the Slytherins got along with the other two houses better than Gryffindor. The worst of them though was the infamous Marauders, a trio of rowdy (and incredibly annoying) Gryffindors. James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin, everyone in school knew of them, even the ones who couldn't care less, though it was for all the worst reasons. The three were always pulling off cruel and idiotic pranks on other students, their preferred targets being pureblood slytherins. They were nothing more than over the top bullies who had no sense of boundaries, even within their own house.

Though the Marauders, and most gryffindors, often thought the problem was with Slytherin. They were after all the evil house, nothing more than obsessive purebloods who would marry a cousin before even thinking of marrying a half-blood, well that's what they thought of them anyway. Their favourite targets were a set of twins in 5th year, a year younger than them and quiet too, not many friends to talk to about being bullied either. Their targets were none other than Regulus Arcturus Black and Y/n Vulpecula Black, who tended to stick to themselves, which meant that the only friends they had were the friends of their older brother. Though Sirius nor his friends had any problem with the two kids hanging around them, especially if it meant they wouldn't be targeted by older Gryffindor students.

Unfortunately today was not a lucky day for the twins, as they were on their way to their Divination classroom a loud and obnoxious voice rang out from the end of the hallway "well if it isn't my favourite little twins" the two sped up before even looking behind them, the only thing they didn't account for was the much taller and intimidating boy who was waiting around the corner at the other end for them to approach. "What's the rush" large hands rested on their shoulders, the two stayed quiet glaring up at the boy. "Oh thanks for catching these two moony!" The short blond haired boy said with too much joy for someone so terrible. Regulus was the first to speak up "what the hell do you three want" his voice was harsh and clearly irritated "well little spitfire is that anyway to talk to upperclassmen, and to think we were going to be nice to you today" James slung his arms around them, squeezing himself uncomfortably close in-between the two kids "yeah sure, we totally believe that" the young boy bit back, shoving James's arm off himself. "You know what lads, I think we should teach these little punks how to respect their elders" Remus said, shoving the twins back around the corner. "You know moony I was thinking the exact same thing" Peter piped in, opening a closet door behind him. Of course James quickly caught on "wormtail, moony you two are genius" the brunette quickly shoved the two into the closet before casting a locking spell they wouldn't be learning until next year. The young girl was quick to bash on the door "let us out you dicks!" The tall scarred boy moved closer to the door "oh sorry little vixen, you two had your chance, we have to teach you some manners that your parents clearly aren't" she could hear the three boys laugh with each other before their voices faded out as they walked off. The young girl let off one last kick to the door before looking towards her brother "how are we supposed to get out?" She sounded defeated. Regulus was quick to move around the room, shoving things away to make space on a shelf. He grabbed a piece of parchment and his quill from his bag, he quickly wrote onto the paper before casting an enchantment on it and slid it under the door "I sent a letter to Sirius and I added a small map that'd lead him to us".

The twins sat down together, talking mindlessly about classes before ending up on the topic of who'd they take to the Yule ball "I don't think I'll actually go this time" the girls brother looked up at her "but Y/n you didn't go last year either" she just shrugged "I just don't have anyone to ask, and no one asked me last year, I doubt it'd be different" the boys shook his head "Evan seems to have taken a shine to you, I think he might ask you" Y/n let out a dry laugh "I highly doubt that Reggie, I'm sure he'd ask Barty before me" the boy was cut off before he could respond by the door slamming open. Outside stood their older brother, slightly out of breath and his curly hair a mess "are you two alright, they didn't hurt you did they, je vais les tuer" the two shook their heads "no we're fine Siri" y/n said, walking past her older brother to exit the closet "right well I'll get you two to class safely". The walk to their classroom was quick and Sirius was even quicker to try and walk off before being stopped by Regulus "oh and Sirius, try to not beat anyone up this time" he had a wolfish grin on his face that screamed trouble "I promise I won't personally lay a hand on them".

Divinations went by quickly, as did most of Y/n's classes, and lunch quickly came around. She was walking from charms class, one she happened to not share with her brother, to the great hall. On her way there she saw a few students running around her, all heading towards the courtyard, yelling about some kind of fight. At first Y/n thought it was just another duel between two students, that was until she got closer and heard the violent sounds of skin hitting skin. She pushed through the crowd hoping her worried thoughts wouldn't be true, unfortunately they were very true. Fighting in the middle of the courtyard stood none other than the Marauders fighting with Sirius and his Friends, Barty, Evan and another pureblood slytherin girl he was close with, Sabrina Sallow. Well it was more Sirius watching his friends beat up the Marauders then anything, he stood there, leant up against a tree with a bright grin on his face "you know I would give nothing more then to bash your heads in for what you three did, unfortunately though I made a promise not to lay a hand on any of you". Y/n could at least give him that, the thing about Sirius is that he always kept his word, he also always found a way around the things he'd promise. The fight was pretty brutal to Y/n, the fights she was used to were sanctioned duels, not something so muggle like. She had seen them all do horrible stuff that'd bruise or scar, they scratched and punched and pulled on hair, Y/n was even sure she had seen Barty bite Peter on the hand. It carried on for a bit longer until the terrifying voice of Professor McGonagall rang throughout the courtyard "what on earth are you all doing!" The six fighting students all pulled themselves up, a bit of shoving here and there "my office now, all seven of you" none of them made even a sound of disagreement as they trudged off to her office. As they walked off, Sirius saw Y/n in the sea of students, giving her a thumbs up before continuing on. "The rest of you clear out, I'm sure you all have much better things to do" once she left the students were quick to disperse, now there was no longer anything entertaining going on, a few lingered to continue their lunch outside. Y/n though went off to find her twin, to tell him about what she just witnessed.

Y/n was quick to find her brother, sitting in their usual spot under a large tree in a normally empty courtyard. The girl quickened her pace slightly at the sight of him, when she reached him she practically threw herself onto the bench "you will not believe what just happened" Regulus looked up from the book he was writing in "oh, did you find James snogging a boy again?" The girl rolled her eyes at her brother "no not this time, it was actually to do with Sirius" he closed his book, placing it back into his bag "was he the one snogging a boy" Y/n hit him on the arm slightly "will you stop talking about boys snogging each other, no I saw Sirius in a fight, a physical one, well sort of, it's was his friends actually, they were fighting those stupid Marauders and he was watching" his eyes grew wide "he did what, did he get hurt!" Y/n shook her head, smiling at her twins worry for their older brother "no he didn't get hurt, they all got into trouble though, with professor McGonagall" Regulus sighed "of course they did, I'm sure they will all be stuck in detention for months" he stood up pulling his book bag over his shoulder "do you want to go find Sirius and the others, we can either congratulate them for their stupid bravery…" he paused for a few seconds mulling over his options "or we could go reprimand them for getting in trouble" Y/n beamed up at the now standing boy "you know what, that sounds wonderful Reggie". She wrapped her hand around his arm, quickly pulling him in the direction of the Slytherin common room, hoping that Sirius would be there.

The twins arrived at the common room, their heads darting around the students inside before landing on the group they were hoping to find. They all sat by the large fireplace, and despite just getting in trouble they all held prideful looks on their faces as they talked about how many hits they got in. The two approached the group, sitting down on one of the open couches. "You know you're all unbelievably stupid right?". The four teens looked over at the younger students "yeah but we won though didn't we lads" barty said slightly shaking Evan who was sitting next to him, Sabrina and Evan were quick to agree. Sirius though just looked over at his siblings smiling "I couldn't just let them get away with what they did" they both smiled at him "We appreciate that Siri but you can't keep getting in trouble for us" it was obvious to both his siblings that Regulus was worried about Sirius, even if he would never admit that. "Well you look like you need to rest, that adrenalin will wear off soon and you three will be in a whole lot of pain". Barty, who was always over dramatic, threw himself over the twins "tell me doctor, will I live to see another day" his Scottish accent thick in his fake tone of sadness. Y/n lent down to make eye contact with the lanky teen "not if you keep biting people, you feral boy" he laughed as the girl shoved him off. "She's right though you lot should head to the medical wing, I'll make sure they get to class alright" Barty stayed laying on the sofa until Sabrina and Evan dragged him off

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atrwriting · 1 year

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the wolf and the dragon -- aemond targaryen x fem!reader

dark!gangleader!modern!aemond — my weakness

as always, warnings: eventual SMUT!, dark themes, dubcon, dom!aemond, violence, alcohol consumption, drugs

you didn’t have a lot, but you did have one thing — your bar.

your grandfather, a stark, was a rich and influential man, which meant all of his descendants clawed over his belongings when his final will and testament was read. you were devastated, seemingly the only family member who appeared to be sad at the loss when his executor designated which properties of his went to who. you were your grandfather’s favorite, meaning he left you the best and worst property. the best, because he knew you loved him best, and the worst, because he knew you loved it best. the worst, being the bar, which mostly everyone discarded… but you saw all of the good things, and the bad things, and loved that shit brick building more than anything.

so what did you do? you sold the best property to one of your greedy cousins. with the money, you fixed up the bar and the apartment above it. you were able to hire and train adequate staff, and you thought you had covered your bases.

that was until you realized you had left one stone unturned.

the matter of security.

you never thought you would need bouncers because, hell, you were scrappy and your linecook could kill someone with one look. however, one day, not too far long after you had reopened your grandfather’s favorite establishment… you met your rude awakening.

it came in the form of two brothers. aegon and aemond targaryen.

you would never forget the day that they had strutted through the doors and scoped out the place. decked in leather, all black, heavy boots, and tattoos littering what skin they did expose. aegon’s most noticeable characteristic would be his wavy white hair and eye bags, giving off the impression he wouldn’t know a good night’s rest if it smacked him in the face. his brother was the exact opposite… a narrow, focused glare that he place on anything in his path. you had cast a curious glance their way as you stacked glasses once they had finally taken their seat at the bar.

“what can i get for you gentlemen?” you asked you as approached them, pulling your notepad from your back pocket.

“beer for me, doll,” aegon grunted. “and get old man james over here.”

you swallowed. you own stilled as you tried to find the words. “james stark, sir?”

“yes. go get him,” he sighed, obviously annoyed. he ran his hands through his messy hair and stared at you. “he knows i don’t like to wait.”

you quirked an eyebrow. you bit, “you’ll be waiting a bit, i’m afraid.”

“care to share why?”

you pursed your lips. “he’s dead.”

“fuck-“ aegon sighed, shifting in his seat. he threw a wayward and inconvenienced glances all around him before he slammed a heavy fist on the bar. he returned his glare back to you. “and which spoiled brat kid did he leave this place to?”

“his favorite,” you spat. “me.”

the older brother stared at you for some time with a blank expression before a wicked smile came across his face. he laughed, “you’re y/n stark.”

you were about to retort when his brother spoke up. “how did he pass?”

your gaze immediately flicked to the younger brother, who was still a few years older than you it seemed. anger was biting at your tongue, but having two dangerous looking men in your bar, hours before anyone was supposed to arrive for their shift, did not leave you with many options. you sighed before responding, “cancer.”

“our condolences, y/n,” aemond said stiffly as his eye was trained on you.

you sighed, averting his gaze. “what did you two want to discuss with him?”

“matter of supply and demand.” aegon’s voice was breathy and taunting, baiting you to fight with him.

“are you making demands of a woman who stands in between you and beer?” you scoffed.

“that’s your job, is it not?” there was that wicked smile once more. “to serve me?”

“not if i don’t want to,” you spat. “my bar, remember?”

“not if i don’t want you to have it,” he retorted, leaning over the bar.

you rolled your eyes. you returned your attention to the other brother, who you hoped was more sensible. “what is it you want?”

aemond had his hands folded on the top of the bar as his gaze never left you. his attention made you wary, so you pulled a bottle opener from your pocket and began opening two beers. your spite almost prevented you from serving them, but you realized you might not have a choice as you had no idea who you were dealing with.

“we had a certain… agreement with your late grandfather.”

you placed a beer in front of him and his brother. “what sort of agreement?”

“did he tell you anything about this bar when he passed it to you?” he asked.

you narrowed your eyes at him. “wasn’t allowed here during business hours. i know it’s a bad area.”

“so that’s why we haven’t been graced with your swell hospitality until now.” aegon rolled his eyes.

you ignored him. “what is it you want?”

“now to uphold the agreement with its new owner,” he answered plainly. “and to expand on its terms.”

you threw your hands up in defeat. “quit it with the cryptic shit and spill. now.”

aemond leaned forward until he was a few inches from your face. you could smell the cigarettes on his breath, the motor oil on his jacket, and his aftershave. you sucked in a sharp breath before you went to take a step back, but he grabbed your wrist. he held you in place as he spoke, “my brother may enjoy banter with pretty bartenders, but i find this back and forth a complete waste of my time. i’m not a man that likes his time wasted.”

your breathing was shallow as you whispered, “let go of me.”

“are you going to continue being difficult?” he asked, his grip tightening.

“just tell me what you want,” you rasped, trying not to cower under his gaze. your glare was hard, but not nearly as hard as his.

he let go, but remained as close. “we’re allowed to use your place of business as a meeting ground for our own business.”

your brow furrowed.

“for a cut to the house, of course.” the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“what is it that you do?” you asked. “what is it he let you do?”

“your grandfather never asked, so i don’t think it wise to tell you either,” he stated. “we’d like to continue our agreement, and also ask to use your basement after hours.”

“and what if i say no?” you immediately asked.

aegon’s smile may have been wicked, but aemond’s handsome smile was no match for the threats that seemed to curl his lips. “your grandfather was a loyal man. you think it wise to destroy that loyalty?”

“you didn’t even know he died,” you spat.

“no,” he admitted. “but his building remained in tact while the rest of the area is usually in flames.”

you swallowed, seriously contemplating his words. it was no secret how bad of a neighborhood this area could be, but you didn’t think it was so bad that you would need biker rejects to keep it secure.

“what was his cut?” you asked.

aemond smiled. he knew he had you.

and that was how your business remained standing and intact.

you always wanted to question it, but you never did.

one night, after you had closed up shop, you walked down your back stairs to enter your bar through the kitchen. you were in pajamas, hoping to locate a nightcap in the dark, when you heard voices from the basement.

great, you thought. after hours business.

you did your best to ignore it, but soon it turned into loud, painful-sounding grunts and cries. they sounded masculine.

a shiver went up your spine.

you tip-toed into the bar area and immediately began fishing for a clean glass. grabbing tequila, you poured yourself a drink.

“little late for jose, is it not?”

you jumped at the voice, almost dropping your glass. you had mostly come out of your sleep-like state from moments before, but your vision was still a tad hazy. your eyes found aemond targaryen at the end of the bar, sitting alone, smoking a cigarette.

you swallowed. “do i want to know what’s going on down there?”

he hummed. “your grandfather didn’t.”

you took a sip of your drink. “can i get you anything?”

he chuckled, a smile playing at his lips. “i’ll let the locals know that you’re running a special on tequila and pajamas.”

fuck. you were in your night clothes. in front of a man who looked as dangerous as ever.

you huffed. “i don’t need leather for everyone around me to know i’m scrappy.”

he laughed. “i’ll have what you’re having.”

you grabbed another glass and stalked towards him. your lips were pursed in annoyance as you gave him a heavy pour, which he took and set down in front of him.

he took a sip. “the locals won’t be happy to hear you threatened a customer with… smiley faces on your pajamas. they might just take their paychecks elsewhere.”

you rolled your eyes. “the ones that know what’s good for them will stay clear, that’s for sure.”

aemond took his drink and slammed it before placing the empty glass on the bar. he grunted before placing open palms on the wood and leaned forward over the bar, a few inches from your face. you could smell your favorite drink on his breath and you inhaled sharply.

“and who do you have to thank for that, sweetheart?” he taunted. “thanks for the drink. it’s time for me to get back to work.”

and with that, he disappeared into the cellar.

#hotd #house of the dragon #house targaryen #vhagar #daemon targaryen #prince aemond #aemond fic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #rhaegar targaryen

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7k9sinthee · 4 months

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Random headcanons;

⌑ Nsfw/Sfw?: SFW

⌑ Reader?: No

⌑ Genre?: Fluff, headcanons

⌑ Editted?: in the process...

Characters: Romeo, Juliet, Tybalt, Benvolio

ㄨ Romeo

⁺ Although extremely stupid- as exhibited from his irrational behavior, I believe he actually learns quite quickly.

⁺ When he was dancing at the Capulet part (1968 film), he learned quickly how to dance, although a bit poorly.

⁺ Anyways, he'd be the type to mess up a bit, glance over to someone else doing the same thing and then copy off from them.

Has probably tripped once or twice and always snaps his head back to blame someone for tripping. (Tybalt has been there once or twice...)

Secret handshakes with Mercutio and Benvolio- sometimes making one that requires all three present at once.

Everytime he's scolded his brain just. Flatlines. He literally doesn't take anything in. (Although a lesson not to do whatever got him in trouble in the first place.)

Plucks flowers from gardens to gift to Mercutio/Benvolio as a joke- more seriously to Juliet (..or yourself, if you'd like).

Every time he writes letters to specifically his friends, he adds a small " ! " to his signature.

Has so many inside jokes..

If he were to fall/trip, he'd fall right on his face. I don't make the rules. (I do)

When Romeo is happy, he always has a little pep in his step- like he's all giddy and happy.

Scratches his head when he's confused.

Seems like the type to be writing something and then accidentally misspell the easiest word ever.

Has a habit of just dozing off, leaving a lot of his friends confused

Sneaks out a bit, not a lot like Mercutio may but a reasonable amount to either meet up with friends or just for himself.

Writes horrible poetry that Benvolio and Mercutio support.

Definitely is the type to have a bedtime and tell his friends, "I can not come, as the moon rests high in the sky and beckons for me to sleep!"

Sneezes like a little girl imo

He definitely has a goofy, silly little smile.

Juliet

I just know she smells like flowers every day- how she does it? Remains a mystery..

So many little jokes with Nurse that no one else would know about.

Doesn't openly call Nurse "mom" but she enjoys to refer to Nurse as she would a mother rather than her biological mother.

Also kind of clumsy, she couldn't carry a bucket full of only water to save her.. (💔)

Actually sometimes indulges in reading poems time to time.

Very, very much the type to pick a flower and smell it.

Loves to pick up flowers, pedals, feathers, etc.

Probably has a collection of dried up flowers gifted to her over time.

Juliet really enjoys incorporating little cute things in her outfits!

Views Tybalt as an older brother rather than her father's cousin.

Makes references to things only Nurse knows so it leaves everyone else much confused- and on rare occasions Tybalt might get it, too.

Picks up her dress when she runs, like a princess.

Definitely the type to be like, "Excuse me. Mind your manners..." whenever she hears someone curse.

Whenever she sees Romeo, she faces fully towards him and holds her hands out - and he comes to pick her up and spin her like a little ballerina !!

Has attempted to draw/paint multiple times before, and whenever done- Lord Capulet always hangs it up with much pride no matter if it looks "funky."

Tybalt

"Grab me my rapier"

Definitely the type to take great pride in his swords

Actually, seems like the type to keep a GIANT sword collection.

He's definitely the type to overhear conversions in secret but then give the fattest side eyes/disgusting glares.

Tybalt 100% has his lips sealed with any secret. Never could get anything out of him.

Juliet actually hides behind Tybalt quite often (not usually physically), and Tybalt isn't afraid to defend his younger sister.

Also, 100% defends Nurse, or rather any woman in his life. He's most definitely a woman's boy.

Has the most sly grin you'll ever see in your life.

His deep voice actually very often scares people, so depending on who he's talking to; he'll either lower his volume and attempt to speak softer or keep speaking in much confidence.

He'll soften his voice for the nicer, quieter folk and speak loudly for the annoying and cocky guys.

Little bitty scars all over him from him attempting to perfect his sword fighting skills.

Very often flaunts off and attempts to look flashy and show-offish.

Even though he's old enough and pretty mature, he'll never ever consider drinking or smoking. He believes it's far too disgusting for himself.

Although Nurse isn't Tybalts true mother- Tybalt will have moments where "momma Nurse" slip out.

Actually kinda enjoys keeping things neat in order - in his room at least, outside, he doesn't mind getting a little messy.

On that topic... Tybalt very often helps out Nurse with chores and such, but no one really notices because he doesn't want to be seen like that (question mark)

The definition of wet soggy cat

Other than that- he just is overall very sweet and polite.

Benvolio

Definitely the type to write little poems or works of literature but always puts it to the side to "continue later"-

He never finishes them and usually Romeo would come by and read those works out to Benvolio as a way to just tease.

Has very, very specific humor- he only really laughs at inside jokes.

Of course, he'll have a nice laugh at a funny joke but, inside jokes are what really get him.

The type to accidentally snicker at the wrong moment and have to excuse himself. (😭)

Though this would only be around friends, he most definitely can control himself from laughing around Lord Montague and such.

Very polite fellow

Seems like the type to like cross his hands when sitting down and he sits down very politely and tightly-

He doesn't want to take up much space on benches anyways.

If he was a cat, he'd be that one cat with an apple that just sits there all polite getting pet by a giant wooden spoon.

Very gentle with everything and everyone. Either physically, emotionally, or verbally-

Despite being extremely polite, he is the one that has the best insults ("thee mother looks like a yellow belly, tavern hopping maniac, it's no surprise thou looks alike!", also said in the most polite way possible)

Has a nice, gentle voice. Slightly accented, though, unlike many.

The hat he usually wears - the one seen in act 1 (1968 film) - is one from long ago.

It was gifted to him, and he constantly wore it when he was a teen-ish, but it was a bit too big, so it'd cover quite a bit of his face.

Longer hair >>>

Somehow, has extremely beautiful, long lashes.

He strangely enough seems like the one to get hurt least often, but when he does, it's like the worst thing to ever happen. (Que Benvolio accidentally falling out a window)

Picks up little branches and sticks to collect randomly ?? He doesn't really do anything with them. The sticks either end up getting thrown out or forgotten about.

The type to be writing something and then accidentally slip up and create a massive mark in the middle of the paper without a way to hide it.

Has maybe fallen out a window before ?

Benvolio has so many unnecessary items laying around in his home

He has a collection of beads/rocks of sorts- all very polished and shiny.

Just a friendly reminder that these are all headcanons 🫶

#romeo and juliet #juliet1968 #tybalt king of cats #tybalt capulet #tybalt capp #tybalt headcanons #romeo headcanons #juliet headcanons #romeo and juliet 1968 #benvolio montague #benvolio #benvolio 1968 #headcanons #fic #romeo and juliet fanfic

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andreafmn · 1 year

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I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 10

Word Count: 4.3K Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined. Chapter: 10/? A/N: cough cough sorry, dusting off this story after more than a year 😶 honestly, cannot believe it's taken me this long to update this story. So, if there are still any fans of it… Hey!!! I am so sorry for taking forever, but I will absolutely try to keep to my new writing schedule [if you wanna see it, it's on my Tumblr andreafmn]. Thank you to all the peeps that are reading. I hope you enjoy! My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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Chapter 10

(Y/N) could not help the feeling that took over her. It was a giddy excitement that filled her as she rode back home. She couldn’t quite place it, only knowing what it could be from books she had read and movies she had seen.

She liked him. She truly liked Derek Hale.

Derek Hale.

The name repeated inside her head like a grounding mantra.

Derek Hale, the werewolf.

Derek Hale, the alpha.

Derek Hale, the most wanted man in her family.

The girl wasn’t afraid of her feelings. Those she could guard, those she could shield from her world. Her emotions weren’t the ones she wanted to keep safe. She wanted to keep Derek safe — keep him safe. Her family had already caused him so much pain. Her own flesh had burned away his family like they were nothing more than insects. The same blood that rushed through her veins had been able to kill a group of innocent people leaving Derek on his own.

That was what she wanted to protect him from. (Y/N) wanted him shielded from all the horror her family would continue to enforce. When she turned eighteen, she would be able to escape and find a way out of the circle that had forgotten the code of a hunter and had decided that supernatural lives were worthless.

All they had to do was reach mid-December. Nine months, that’s all they needed. Nine months and they could dive head-first into whatever it was they were feeling. Whatever new adventure life wanted to throw their way.

“Well, someone seems chipper now,” Isaac teased as (Y/N) balanced her motorcycle on its stand. “I take it things between Derek and you have been fixed?”

“Something like that,” she chuckled. “We at least put some things on the table.”

“What does that even mean?”

Isaac followed her into the house, waiting for her answer. But she simply waltzed through the house, landing in the kitchen. She got a bottle of water and a slice of pizza out of the fridge, eating it without heating it up.

“(Y/N), just tell me what you meant,” Isaac chuckled as he followed her to the living room. “If this is you being happy, I don’t like it.”

“There’s not much to say, honestly,” she mumbled. “We just talked.”

“Give me something here, (Y/N),” Isaac exasperated as he plopped down on the couch next to her. “Judging by the way you’re acting you two did more than just talk.”

“Ew, Isaac,” (Y/N) gasped dramatically. “Need I remind you that I am a minor.”

“He’s not that much older than us and you’re only 17 for a couple more months.”

“9 months to be exact, but who’s counting?” The girl got up from the couch and headed back to the kitchen, dancing around all of her friend’s questions. “You know what this pizza needs? Ranch. It needs some ranch.”

“(Y/N), why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been skating around the topic since you got here. I just wanna know what’s going on between the two of you.”

“Truthfully, there’s nothing going on,” she shrugged. “There’s nothing that can go on just yet. Nothing for nine grueling months. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“What happened a couple of hours ago wasn’t nothing, (Y/N),” he added. “There’s only a few years of difference between you. Are you really telling me you wouldn’t risk it?”

“I could, Isaac, but not with him,” (Y/N) sighed. “I cannot give my family any ammunition against him. If they ever found out that we were together they would find a way to get the authorities involved and trap him afterward, even if he’s innocent. And that not only would put Derek in more danger, but it would set a target on you and everyone else. I simply cannot do that.”

“We can protect ourselves, (Y/N).” He rounded the kitchen island, stopping once he was right next to her, and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “You deserve to be happy. I mean, Allison and Scott are making it work. Why can’t you?”

“Are they making it work?” she questioned. “They sneak around all the time. They have to pretend they hate each other when they’re in school. They can’t admit they’re in love without putting the other in harm’s way. I don’t want that.”

“So, instead you’re gonna pretend that you feel nothing for him? How is that the better option? In the long run, you’re only hurting yourselves.”

“And what am I supposed to do, Isaac? What am I supposed to do if you guys get hurt because of a decision I made? How could I live with myself if my family got their hands on you because of me?” (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “I can’t do it. I refuse.”

Isaac remained quiet for a beat, her words sinking into him as every second passed. He understood her need to protect them, the desperation to withhold her wants in order to keep everyone safe. “Is this about Josie?” he whispered, carefully choosing his next words. “Your job is not to protect everyone. At some point, you need to allow yourself to want things for yourself.”

“I can’t. There are too many lives at risk right now and I won’t let anything happen to any of you if I can help it,” she responded sternly. “I don’t care if it takes a lifetime. If it means that you will all be safe, then I will stay away from him.”

“You’re as stubborn as they come, (Y/N),” Isaac responded in defeat. He placed his hands on either side of her face, pressing his forehead to hers as he gifted her a smile. “But if you ever change your mind, just let me know. I’ve got your back, Argent.”

“Thank you, Isaac. I’ve got your back too.”

“You better,” he chuckled. “Now, let’s go to bed. We’ve got a couple of long days ahead of us.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

***

School had been uneventful the next day, the only thing that could be felt was the anxious excitement of the students as talk of the secret rave kept spreading. Tickets were already scarce as it was and as more people knew of its existence the harder it would become to get them.

Thankfully, talk of the rave was strong enough to quiet any whispers of what had transpired in the library. The fact that it had been completely destroyed by supernatural creatures the student body had no idea of had been hidden under the rumor that it had simply been a teenage fight. It was baffling and incomprehensible, yet everyone accepted the answer at face value. At the end of the day, it was simply school property and nothing more interesting.

“Here you go,” Isaac said after math class was over, slipping (Y/N) a yellow and pink piece of paper. “One ticket for tomorrow night’s secret rave. Courtesy of one Derek Hale.”

“Is that what you left so early this morning for? I thought they were already sold out!”

“If there’s one thing I know about Derek it’s that he has connections. And that he’d stop at nothing to stop Jackson.”

“You mean save,” (Y/N) corrected as she walked by his side to her locker. “We are going to save Jackson.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Seriously, Isaac. He’s being controlled by someone else and has no idea of what he’s doing,” she added. Her words were filled with compassion and worry, concerned for a boy that, though despicable, was innocent in the whole ordeal. “Jackson Whittemore might be a whole lot of things, but I know he’s not a killer.”

“You sound like Scott,” Isaac chuckled. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever heard more people rally behind that guy since he’s become a sort of murderer.”

“Everyone deserves a chance,” (Y/N) said. “If they didn’t, I would have cut you off the second you turned into a cocky ass.”

“Hey, I’ve always been nice to you. It’s other people I don’t like.”

“Who? Stiles and Scott?” she teased. “Is it because Derek doesn’t like them?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I can think for myself,” he scoffed lightly. “I don’t like them because they haven’t given me any reason to like them. That could change at any point, but it seems unlikely.”

“And have you ever even talked to them?”

“Not exactly,” he shrugged into his seat. “But I don’t really care to talk about that. Tonight, we’re gonna go see Scott’s boss, the vet. Apparently, he can help us catch Jackson tomorrow night. Wanna come with?”

“I suppose I could. There’s not much happening back home,” she sighed happily. “I think it’s cause my dad’s away.”

“Well then, we’ll have fun,” he smiled. “Just you, me, Scott, and Derek. What a fun group of people.”

“I get along fine with everyone,” she returned the smile. “It’s Derek and you that need to learn how to be able to deal with other people.”

“A couple of weeks ago you couldn’t even say more than five words to them. Now, you’re the biggest team player?”

“What can I say? I really flourish in a stable environment.”

“Between kanimas, werewolves, and hunters,” he laughed. “What a stable environment.”

“At least I’m not moving at the end of the year,” she grinned, slamming the locked door closed. “Now, let’s go eat before we meet the vet. I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

As the day transitioned into night, Isaac and (Y/N) left her house for Derek’s. It was in moments like those that the Argent girl forgot what her world had turned into. She wasn’t just going over to her crush’s house to admire him from afar as she spent time with her friend. No. She was on her way to pick up an alpha to figure out how to stop a reptilian-shapeshifting teenager.

(Y/N) had only ever wanted to have a normal life, and for most of it she thought her biggest obstacle was moving every year. In reality, it was the fact that her parents had been secretly training her to become a supernatural hunter. Everything she had been craving was farther from her reach than she could have ever thought.

Still, she could only deal with one problem at a time. Stopping Jackson was the most pressing matter and that’s what her mind had to focus on. Especially when half of the people she surrounded herself with wanted the boy dead. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stand for that.

She killed the engine of her motorcycle as Isaac hopped off the back. They were met with a scowling Derek, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. The sight alone had the girl biting back a laugh, finding the façade he wore when others were around to be the most hilarious acting he could do. She had already seen the side of him he so desperately hid from others, and she could not think of him otherwise.

“Oh, come on, Derek,” Isaac grinned. “There’s no need for jealousy. (Y/N) and I are just friends.”

“I’m not jealous. How could I be?” he devilishly smiled as he got into his car. “There’s no real competition.”

“Cool it, boys,” (Y/N) interjected, settling into the passenger seat. “It’s not like there’s much to choose from. We are terribly lacking in the casting department here in Beacon Hills.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Derek grumbled.

“It means that I have to pick from a really small pool of options,” she said mischievously, a playful grin on her face. “You’re definitely number one. But you’re a close second, Isaac.”

“Hear that, Derek?” Isaac laughed, peeking his head to the front. “You better play your cards right or I might have a chance.”

Instead of responding, Derek slammed on the brakes, making Isaac’s seatbelt lock as his body lurched forward, knocking the air out of his lungs. Quietly, he sat back onto his seat, his eyebrows furrowing and his arms crossing across his chest like a child after a tantrum. But all (Y/N) could stare at was the cocky grin that was plastered on Derek’s face.

“Alright, enough of this pissing competition,” (Y/N) laughed softly. “We have real business to tend to and I don’t wanna be late.”

“You heard the lady, Derek. Step on it.”

“Watch it, Isaac.”

“Guys,” she called their attention, scolding them with her gaze. “Let’s just go.”

The rest of the short car ride was quiet, filled with the soft hum of the radio and the air blowing out of the A/C. But there were stolen glances and smiles between the people in the front of the car. Their arms rested on the center console, their fingers itching to interlace as they stretched toward each other, neither really giving in.

One second, they were leaving Derek’s loft, and the next, they were parked in front of the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic. Before they could reach the door, Scott was already unlocking it, his face contorted in confusion as he stared at (Y/N) and Isaac.

“What’s he doing here?” Scott questioned.

“I need him.”

“I don’t trust him,” the boy added as he walked back inside.

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t trust you either,” Isaac said cockily, his mask quickly slipping on.

“You know what?” the older man said annoyed. “And Derek doesn’t really care.”

“What about you, (Y/N)?” Scott asked, his tone softening. “Why are you here?”

“Just along for the ride. But at the end of the day, I’m a good mediator for whatever tension is roaming here.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Derek quickly said. “Now where’s the vet? Is he gonna help us or what?”

“That depends,” the doctor answered, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. “Your friend, Jackson. Are we planning to kill him or save him?”

Derek answered, “Kill him,” at the same time Scott and (Y/N) responded, “Save him.”

Both of the teens stared at the alpha, not shocked at his answer but a tad disappointed. Scott had been clear when he agreed to work together, things would be done his way and that meant doing everything possible to rescue Jackson. And if Derek had any doubts, there were none left once Scott reiterated twice that Jackson would be saved.

Then, and only then, did Dr. Deaton allow the group back into the treatment room. They all stood behind the exam table, following the vet’s every move. He took hold of a tray with neatly arranged vials with symbols on the lids.

With childlike curiosity, Isaac reached for the glass containers. Only to have Derek snatch his hand away. “Watch what you touch,” he said, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but agree. She had learned rather quickly that when it came to that secret world it was better to air of the side of caution.

“So, what are you?” the blonde questioned, keeping his hands to himself but ignoring Derek’s reprimand. “Some kind of witch?”

“No, I’m a veterinarian,” Deaton responded to him before he shifted the conversation to what they were there for. “Unfortunately, I don’t see anything here that’s going to be an effective defense against a paralytic toxin.”

(Y/N) was intrigued by the man. Even if he claimed to be a mere human, she could tell there was something more to him. There was a powerful energy that emanated from him, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was or what it could mean.

As the man questioned about the Kanima and the others answered, her mind was deadest of figuring out what the energy she was feeling meant. If he was truly just a human, she was afraid she was losing her mind.

“Essentially, you’re trying to capture two people,” she heard him say as her brain focused back on the situation at hand. The doctor turned for a second and pulled out a medallion. “A puppet… and a puppeteer,” he explained as he placed the disk on the table. “One killed the husband while the other killed the wife. Do we know why?”

“I don’t think Jackson could do it,” (Y/N) finally spoke. “His mother died pregnant too, and she was maybe murdered. I think he couldn’t let the same happen to someone else.”

“How do you know it’s not part of the rules?” Isaac questioned. “The Kanima kills murderers. If Jackson kills the wide, then the baby dies too.”

“Does that mean your father was a murderer?” Scott asked him.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he was.”

Instinctively, (Y/N)’s hand flew to Isaac’s forearm and gave it a comforting squeeze. Even if the man was a horrible human being and had made the boy’s life a living hell, she knew how hard it still was for him to talk about the man.

“Hold on,” Deaton pondered. “The book says they’re bonded, right? What if the fear of water isn’t coming from Jackson, but from the person controlling him? What if…?” he continued as he grabbed a vial of something (Y/N) recognized as mountain ash and drew a circle around the silver medallion. “Something that controls the Kanima also affects its master?”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning we can catch them,” she smiled at the blond. “Both of them. If this theory is right, that means we could get Jackson and whoever is controlling him in the same place.”

“In theory, it should work,” the doctor added. “But you should plan for all possibilities. Scott, you can come over tomorrow and pick up what supply I have of mountain ash. Hopefully, this plan works.”

“I hope so too,” the boy added. “So, we’ll meet up tomorrow before the rave to make sure we’re all on the same page. Right, Derek?”

“Right,” he grumbled. “We’ll see you tomorrow night then.”

Once everyone had agreed to the plan, Deaton and Scott walked the trio to the door, wishing them a good night and safe travels home. But keeping up their macho bravado and feeding their air of dominance, Isaac and Derek made a beeline for the car rather than return the sentiment. It was childish and petty, but it forced a smile out of (Y/N).

“I apologize for those two. It seems they have forgotten their manners,” (Y/N) said. “But thank you, Dr. Deaton, for all your help. And thank you, Scott, for everything you’re doing to make sure Jackson comes out of this alive. He may be a shitty guy, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Scott smiled, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “And although I cannot say I understand why you’re even in the same presence as Derek Hale, I’m glad you’re there to keep him in line.”

“Eh, he’s not that tough,” she chuckled. “Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you again, Deaton.”

“Please, call me Alan.”

“Then, thank you, Alan.”

“Get home safe, (Y/N),” Scott called out as she walked to the car.

“You too, Scott,” she smiled. “We’ll get them tomorrow. Even if it takes everything out of us.”

As soon as the girl had closed the door of the black Camaro, the car sped out of the parking lot. After such an influx of information and the slightest sliver of hope, silence befell them. The ride was silent, once again filled only with the soft sound of the radio and the blast from the A/C.

There wasn’t anything more to be said. They either trapped both the kanima and his master, or they would die trying. And it was that sense of dread that kept them mute until they reached the loft where Isaac excused himself to grab a change of clothes.

(Y/N) walked to Derek’s side, leaning against the car right beside him, enjoying the smoothness of his leather jacket against her. It took every ounce of self-control for them to not deepen the touch, to reach out to one another in seek of comfort.

“What do you think will happen tomorrow?” (Y/N) asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” he sighed. “If it were up to me…”

“If it were up to you Jackson would be dead,” she finished sternly. “An innocent life would be taken.”

“Jackson is not innocent.”

“Someone is literally calling the shots for him, Derek. He doesn’t even remember what he’s done,” she retorted. “He shouldn’t be faulted for something he is not doing on his own.”

“I know,” he exasperated. “But he’s still done so many horrible things, even if he doesn’t know it. And he’ll continue to do them if he and whoever is controlling him isn’t stopped.”

“Just please, Derek.” (Y/N) turned to face him, her eyes desperately searching into the darkness of his. Her hands rested on his crossed arms, the only way she found she could convey the level of her worry. "Promise me you won’t kill him. Do whatever it takes to stop him but kill him.”

Derek could only sigh at her plea. He could see the desperation behind her eyes, the way they were looking for any sign of deception in his. But he knew he could not lie, at least not to her. “All I can promise is that he’ll remain alive as long as he stays away from you,” he said. “If he does anything to harm you, he is as good as dead.”

“Derek…”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). I’d be so much as digs a single claw into you, I will make sure I’m the one to rip his throat out.”

“Even if we know his venom won’t do anything to me?” (Y/N) blurted. Derek’s eyes grew wide, thinking she would never find out about his transgression. But she had told him that Scott had revealed everything to her, that was just part of the story. “Yes, Scott told me you tested me and Lydia. And at some point, I was everyone’s favorite suspect. What would you do if it had been me? Would you not hesitate to kill me as well?”

“I never doubted you,” he told her, softly cradling the side of her face. “It was never my intention to test you. You just so happened to shade that piece of candy with Lydia. I knew it could have never been you.”

“How could you be so sure? You didn't know me, Derek. You still barely know me,” her voice croaked. “So, I'm asking you. If I had been the kanima, would you be advocating this hard to kill me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then, you shouldn't want to kill Jackson either.”

“It's not even comparable to how I care for you,” he smiled. “But I promise you, and only you, that I will not kill him.”

“That's all I can ask for,” she said, returning the warm smile. “And I'm glad to hear you wouldn't have killed me. I think death wishes would really tamper with our chances.”

“I'm glad it wasn't you then,” he chuckled. “Although, I think we could have made it work. We just would have to make sure your scales were always hydrated.”

“A kanima and a werewolf,” she laughed. “What a match it would have been.”

As they laughed in unison, their gazes met under the light of the moon. His green eyes shone brightly as they studied every inch of her face, every so often falling to her lips. He noted the pinkness of the skin and the plumpness. He saw how they trembled slightly whenever his eyes landed on them. He spotted how they parted to allow a deep breath to slip through.

Oh, how he wanted to taste them. To crash his lips onto hers and savor every second of connection. All it would take was a single move. In less than a second, he could answer every question he had about her mouth.

So, he slowly leaned in.

And she did too.

They were millimeters away from breaking their resolve and throwing caution to the wind. A gust of air and their nine-month pact would be broken. At least, they would have given in to the feeling they most craved for.

“Welp, ready to go!” Isaac's voice startled them apart. His head was focused on his bag, making sure he had everything he needed, and had no idea he had ruined a moment for the pair. “You think we could stop for some food on the way back? I'm starving again.”

The duo could only stare at the tall blond, their faces growing red in embarrassment. “What?” Isaac muttered. “Is it too late for food?”

"It's fine, Isaac,” (Y/N) chuckled at his obliviousness. “We'll get something on the way back. Go start the bike. Let it warm up.”

“Alright,” he said, easily catching the keys she threw him. “I'll let you two lovebirds say goodbye.”

Once he was out of sight, the pair laughed quietly. They had once again been interrupted by one of Derek's teenage strays. And once more they had been that close to giving in to their urges.

“It seems like the universe wants us to wait,” she grinned. “For the record, I really want to kiss you.”

“For the record,” he whispered into her ear. “I really want to kiss you too.”

“I mean, there’s nothing really stopping us right now,” she said, biting her lower lip. “We could just... do it.”

“Not with Isaac right there,” he reminded her. “He might not hear us well, but he can definitely see us. And, not gonna lie, I don’t really wanna kiss you with an audience.”

“Neither do I,” she chuckled. “A year, huh?”

“Nine months,” he smiled. “But who’s counting?”

Next ->

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pumpkincarriage3 · 1 year

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A Fluttering Annoyance | Leona Kingscholar X Reader (Valentine's Special)

Prompt: "I think I've fallen in love with my self-professed mortal enemy."

Synopsis: Leona hated his attendant. They were always buzzing around, making a nuisance of themselves, and sticking their nose where it didn't belong. Leona hated them. But with that said, Leona was also the only one who got to tell them off.

Extra: The reader is not Yuu (They are implied to be a bird beastmen, but you can ignore it.). The Reader is also gender-neutral in this. They start off as children.

Leona watched in a mild feeling of horror as he came to a dawning realization upon looking at the child before him. Kifaji's cousin's child they had said. Someone that was set to become his retainer. Kifaji himself was bad enough, but now he had to deal with his relative? Leona knew that this kid was going to be his mortal enemy. His worst nightmare.

Leona didn't even know why they bothered with giving him a retainer, seeing as he was only the second prince anyway. He would never amount to anything, but here he was. With a too-straight-laced child staring at him with a much too serious look.

"I'll be at your service, Prince Leona." They practically chirped. Leona didn't say anything, until he was nudged by his older brother forward.

"Just try not to make my life difficult." Was all Leona said on the matter. His brother look disappointed, but Leona couldn't find it in him to care. Instead wondering when this meeting would be over with.

In the end, Leona's retainer did nothing but make his life more difficult. Not heeding to his one request. But what was he expecting. For someone to actually listen to him, the second prince? They were always nagging him. And when they were around, he could never manage to get any sleep.

"Prince Leona, it is time for your morning lessons." (Y/n) declared, ripping the blankets right off of him. Leona growled at them, but all they did was give him a blank look in response. Not at all caring that a predator was in front of them. The fact that Leona couldn't even manage to ruffle their feathers slightly always put a sour mood in his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm up, I'm up." Leona huffed, sitting up. Glancing towards his door, Leona noticed some of the palace staff cowering. He thought it was odd that they decided to send in the baby bird. Turns out, they're all just a bunch of cowards.

Though (Y/n) was far from cowardly. Walking around the room, as if they owned the place. Pulling out Leona's clothes for the day and plopping them on the table.

"I expect to see you in the dining hall in half an hour. And in your morning lessons an hour from that. Prince Leona." They stated, walking out probably just as quietly as they came. Not at all worried that Leona may retaliate. Leona gritted his teeth, not being able to stand being called 'Prince'. For it was just a reminder of when he was born and who he was born after.

His new retainer's meddling didn't just stop at waking him up either. They also didn't seem to have a problem bossing around and nagging the rest of the palace staff. So, Leona supposes he isn't special in that regard.

"Crown Prince Falena is such a bright and cheerful young man. I don't understand why his younger brother has to be so moody all the time." One of the palace workers whispered to another worker beside her.

"And he possesses such a terrifying power! Imagine being able to turn anything to sand!" The other whispered back in agreement.

"Both of you, cease this conversation right now! What if someone overhears you?!" Leona scowled at those words, choosing to hang back and not intervene. Not saying anything. If he did say anything, it would just end up being the moody second born being dramatic over nothing.

"Oh? So if someone didn't have the chance to overhear, it would be fine to say anything then?" A familiar voice called out in a cold tone. Leona peaked his head out to see his annoying little retainer that was always fluttering around glaring at the palace staff.

"It's true isn't it? You should know that better than anyone else here, (Y/n)!" The first voice retorted, but (Y/n)'s expression didn't change. They never flinched, still looking just as cold as before.

"I think if you are such a coward that you must whisper between one another like a bunch of rats, you deserved to be turned into sand." (Y/n) snapped. Not at all caring when the other palace workers flinched back from them. "Learn to hold your tongue and acquire some manners. Second born or not, Prince Leona is still just that. A Prince. And you will treat him as such befitting his station. If I ever hear you all saying such words again, if you even imply it, I will have you thrown out of these walls myself!"

Leona remained silent. Not getting involved. If anything he found it to be a bother. The rumors would probably get worse. Only now it would probably turn into the moody second born prince and his tyrant of a retainer that's let the power go to their head. Leona sighed to himself, not wanting to deal with the oncoming headache that he knew was coming. Instead choosing to walk away from the situation entirely.

And (Y/n)'s nagging didn't just stop there. They even pestered him about something as small as the things he ate.

"Prince Leona, you still have food on your plate." (Y/n) pointed out, pointing towards the vegetables that Leona had intentionally avoided eating. He was a carnivore, not a herbivore.

"I don't like it. So I'm not going to eat it." Was Leona's firm reply. He smirked once he saw how (Y/n) puffed up in annoyance. Seems he's finally found the right buttons to push.

"Vegetables are important to a healthy and nutritious diet. You can't just refuse to eat it, Prince Leona." (Y/n) all but demanded, waving their hands around in a way that was most familiar. Something they did when they got particularly animated while talking.

"Hah? Aren't you the one always telling others to respect my station? And yet you have the gall to made demands of me?" Leona retorted, in a tone that was almost teasing. (Y/n) began to shake. Not from fear like the other palace workers. But instead from annoyance.

"No, I'm not making any demands Prince Leona. However, I highly advise you eat the rest of the food on your plate." (Y/n) affirmed not backing down, even having the courage to push his plate even closer to him.

"You said it yourself. You're not making any demands of me. So I, the second born Prince, am choosing to ignore your suggestion." Leona pushed the plate away from himself, standing up and began walking away. His tail swishing behind him in a way that he knew would only set off (Y/n) more.

Hilariously enough, the very next day, they barged into his room with a thirty-page report on vegetables and their nutritional value and why it was important to eat them and the determents to not eating them. Leona laughed and laughed and laughed at the report. He didn't think he had gotten under their tail feathers that much.

"What's this baby bird, still pouting over yesterday?" Leona teased, waving the report around. Still laughing as if it was the first time he had laughed in his entire lifetime.

"I am not pouting! And this is not a laughing matter. You must take this seriously, Prince Leona!" (Y/n) demanded, their words not having any real bite to them. "Not eating your greens can increase your risk of chronic disease, possible bowl troubles, nutrient deficiencies, among other things!"

(Y/n) was incredibly passionate in the way that they spoke, but Leona couldn't bring himself to take them seriously. And surprisingly, he couldn't even find himself being annoyed with their actions. Instead laughing at the sheer amount of gall that his too-straight-laced retainer always seemed to show.

"And is that an order, baby bird?" Leona taunted with a grin on his face, swiping at them with his tail. (Y/n) sputtered, swatting his tail away, and giving him a look that Leona found as about intimidating as a kitten.

"It is not an order, Prince Leona! It is just a highly advisable suggestion!!" (Y/n) deflected.

"Then I'm choosing to ignore your suggestion!" Leona countered. (Y/n) squawked in annoyance, stopping out of the room. Not being able to stay in the same room as the prince that kept laughing at their pitiful attempts for negotiation.

From there on out, Leona would find post-it-notes all over the place. Always listing dietary reasons as to why it was important to eat vegetables, all written in (Y/n)'s penmanship. Words that never failed to bring a smile to Leona's face, completely failing at their chosen directive.

(Y/n)'s overexuberance didn't stop there. It was like Leona could never get a moment for himself. For anywhere he went, they always managed to track him down.

"Prince Leona, what is it that you're doing all the way out here? Do you even recall what time it is currently?" (Y/n)'s voice tittered. Leona opened his eyes, coming into contact with a pair of sharp (e/c) ones. Leona sighed to himself, not bothering to get up from his spot.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm taking a nap." Came Leona's affronted reply.

"At least do it within the palace walls. Not outside Prince Leona. This is hardly dignified." (Y/n) lectured, and Leona couldn't help the shot of anger and annoyance even if he wanted to.

"What? Am I not princely enough for you? Sorry, but you'll have to seek my brother out for that one. Or should I say kingly enough in that case?" Leona snapped. (Y/n)'s eyes widened before their lips set into a firm line. But in the end, they didn't say anything. Instead, stomping back into the palace.

Leona ignored the part of himself that wanted them to stay. They were just an annoying baby bird that was always fluttering around him after all, he should be happy that their finally gone. Just like everyone else.

But in the end, and Leona really should have expected this, they continued to defy his expectations. Instead coming back outside with an arm full of books, plopping themselves beside Leona and opening a book to read.

"What are you doing?' Leona asked, curious despite himself.

"Well, someone has to look out for you. As you seem to so often forget, you are a Prince of this country. Leaving you on your own simply isn't an option." (Y/n) huffed, rolling their eyes at him.

"I don't need any protection. Especially not from you." Leona all but growled. But (Y/n) wasn't intimidated, they never were. And Leona was beginning to think they never will be.

"Of course not, Prince Leona. But it is time for you lessons, and as you have seen fit to skip those very same lessons to come out here and nap, I will read them to you." (Y/n) decided all on their own. Leona had come out here to skip those very same lessons, already knowing everything.

"The point of coming out here was to get some peace and quiet. If you expect me to engage in your little mock lesson, you're sorely mistaken." Leona firmly stated, rolling over to continue his original endeavor. Not even wanting the possibility of looking at (Y/n).

"I never asked you to, Prince Leona." Came (Y/n)'s oh so antagonizing reply, before they began to read off some of the most boring information they possibly could. Against his will, their voice seemed to soothe him to sleep. Coaxing him into a peaceful slumber that he hadn't been able to achieve in a long while. Damn song bird.

He can't believe he's fallen for a tittering little brat.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst fandom #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #Disney twst wonderland #leona kingscholar #twst leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #valentine's special

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 6 months

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Nowhere Else

Summary: The story of the first time Éomer met the woman who would become his wife, told from both sides. Includes some other small, sweet moments of them together at different times in their lives, including one of my favorite mental images of Éomer as a father.

Reminder: Though I write almost entirely canon-compliant, my one big exception is that (as a Rohan partisan) I always wanted to see Éomer with a fellow Rohirrim. So his wife in my HC has been his best friend since childhood, and her name translates to “famously kind”.

Mereliss’s eyes had begun to grow heavy. The celebration of Éowyn’s birthday, her sixteenth, had started early, and after a long day of riding and feasting and revelry had turned into an evening of singing and mead and stories, Mereliss seemed to be fading fast. Each time she closed her eyes to blink, they remained closed a little longer, and eventually her head started to nod. Éomer watched her from the corner of his eye, as he so often did, and smiled to himself at the sight. When he could see her lashes laying fully against her cheek and her breathing had become long and slow, he shifted next to her ever so slightly, allowing her head to come to rest against his shoulder. He leaned his own cheek against her hair, breathing in its sweet scent of lavender, and closed his eyes for a moment of peaceful happiness.

He had always loved Mereliss, almost from the first instant they met. He had only recently arrived in Edoras at the time, an eleven year old still reeling from the loss of his parents and the dramatic change of daily life in his new home. Other children in the city had given him a wide berth, as though they were afraid his personal misfortune might be contagious, and while they would nod and smile at him, that was usually the limit of their interactions. Not that he minded. He didn’t want to be asked about his parents or his old life, or to be treated as an object of curiosity and pity. And so he resigned himself to keeping his distance from his peers, spending all of his time with his beloved, but much older, cousin instead. Until the day that Mereliss walked into the stable and into his life.

Her father, Elfhelm, was there to see Théodred, and, as the two men went over plans for an expansion of the stables, Mereliss had plopped down at Éomer’s side and just started talking. She talked to him as though they had always known each other, comfortable and familiar and heedless of any way that he might be different from her. Later he would see how she had inherited this gift for warmth and friendliness from Elfhelm, but at the time it seemed magical to him. She made him feel somehow both entirely normal, no longer marked out as distinctively tragic, but also noticeably special, someone that a pretty, kind girl had picked and wanted to know. By the time Elfhelm was ready to take his leave and she had leaned over to give Éomer an impulsive goodbye hug, he was already hopelessly smitten.

He never knew why she had taken an interest in him that afternoon, why she wasn’t afraid of his grief as the other children were or how she had been so confident that they should be friends when she knew nothing about him yet. He had never asked, and, truthfully, he preferred not to know. Her coming into his life was a gift, and he had learned not to question such gifts, only to enjoy them while he had the chance. But he never forgot that feeling of being chosen, the satisfying pride of being sought out and valued by someone who seemed to know exactly what she wanted. Neither did he forget the way his heart had jumped in his chest the first time her arms had ever gone around his neck.

He had loved her from that day, through many long years of treasured friendship. It was never said bluntly in words, as words had never been his strongest suit. But he tried to show his devotion in every action and gesture, in the way he ran to her first when he returned home from a journey or pulled her up to share his saddle when they rode out to enjoy a free afternoon on the banks of the Snowbourne. Or in the way that he positioned himself so that her head could rest comfortably on him when she fell asleep early during a gathering of friends.

He lifted his cheek and opened his eyes to find Théodred watching him from across the room. His cousin raised an eyebrow and smiled, and Éomer blushed a little at having been caught in a moment of intimate contentment. Théodred winked and turned back to his own conversation.

Just then, Mereliss stirred against his shoulder, roused by a boisterous laugh from one of Éowyn’s friends, and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. “I’m sorry, Éomer. I didn’t intend to use you as a pillow and keep you from being able to move about.” Her voice was soft and tired, but she began to straighten herself and sit upright again.

He caught her elbow as she moved and pulled her gently back down into place against him. “It’s alright,” he whispered, smiling down at her. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

*******

Éomer’s eyes had started to grow heavy. After a long day of work he always looked forward to precious time with his family, but chasing after a toddler for hours was every bit as tiring as his royal duties. He had just spent the last hour crawling around on the floor with Sigewyn on his back, playacting as the horse she wanted to ride and endeavoring to keep his hair out of her surprisingly strong little fingers when she tried to use it as reins. When his knees could no longer handle the stone floor, she had agreed to sit for a story instead and then promptly fell asleep splayed out across his chest on a couch in their great room. By the time Mereliss walked in, the last of her work finally completed for the day, Éomer himself was already deep into the liminal space between sleep and consciousness, reclined in a comfortable position with the warm weight of their daughter covering his torso like a blanket and one of her loving little hands plastered to his cheek. Mereliss smiled to herself at the sweetness of the scene and gently moved a pillow to better cushion his head as he rested.

She knew that some people looked skeptically at the amount of time Éomer spent with their daughter, just as they looked skeptically at the amount of authority and autonomy he had given to Mereliss as queen. Determined to learn from his regrets at the constraints his sister had lived under, Éomer wanted his marriage to be a true partnership, a union of equals, and, despite some of her early insecurities, Mereliss had flourished in the role. She soaked up information faster than advisors could present it to her, and she gained expertise and confidence in equal measure. Before long, they had worked out a division of labor that played to each of their strengths–he handled military and diplomatic matters while she adjudicated disputes and looked after the needs of the towns and villages–and she set about her tasks each day feeling happy and fulfilled. Though not everyone in the kingdom embraced the idea of a queen who was more than just a mother and a figurehead, she had Éomer’s trust and respect, which is all she had ever wanted from the first time they met.

She hadn’t gone in search of a friend that day. She was merely tagging along with her father on some business, happy for a chance to be out and about. On the way into the stable, though, she had caught a glimpse of an unknown boy talking quietly with a much younger girl, drying the girl’s tears and giving her a comforting hug. The gentle and caring way he treated this girl, who Mereliss assumed to be his little sister, touched her heart. Other boys her age were always so rough and rude, quick to tease or provoke, but this one seemed different. Kind and thoughtful, if also forlorn. Whatever was troubling him and his sister, Mereliss wanted only to somehow make it better. When the sister left the stable and the kind boy sat alone, she had gone straight to his side, determined both to make a friend of him and to alleviate even a little of the sadness that seemed to follow him like a shadow. She gave him all of her charm, used every little trick for putting people at ease that she had gleaned from watching her father at work, and she would never forget the first time that she made him smile, when that grave solemnity gave way to a moment’s laughter and a deep dimple appeared on his right cheek. Nor would she forget the nervous little flip in her stomach when she reached out to hug him and his arms went around her shoulders for the first time.

After that day, they were nearly always together, and her affection turned easily and seamlessly into love. She never told him so in those words—he could be embarrassed by too much talk of feelings and preferred instead to show how he felt. So she followed his lead and tried to put her love for him into every deed and motion, in the way she waited up long into the night whenever he was expected home from trips out of Edoras, or in how she pulled his arm snugly around her waist when she sat in front of him in the saddle as they rode off for an afternoon outside the city. Or in how she gently tried to make him comfortable when he fell asleep early under the sleeping form of their daughter.

She slid in carefully next to them on the couch, resting her cheek against his shoulder and gently moving Sigewyn’s hand from his face, taking care to unwind a few locks of his hair from around those little fingers. She pressed her lips to the space where the hand had been, and he stirred slightly, turning his head to look at her through half closed eyes. “Did I doze off? I’m sorry, Mere. I’ll get up, and we can still make something of the night.” His voice was faint and thick with sleep, but he moved a foot toward the floor.

She blocked his foot with her own, lightly pushing it back up onto the couch. “It’s alright,” she whispered, smiling up at him. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

#lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #lotr fanfiction #eomer #éomer #rohan #how we first met #two sides of the same event #sweet little moments #divider by saradika

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sunflowergirl522 · 1 year

Text

New Years Eve

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Superstitious!Reader

Summary: It’s New Years Eve and Robins bringing her cousin to Steve’s party.

Word Count: 4406

Eddie Masterlist

“Are you sure you don’t mind me bringing Y/n to the party?” Robin asks Steve for what feels like the millionth time to him.

“Yes Robin I’m sure. I’ve only told you I don’t care everyday for the past week.” He’s laughing while he speaks, tossing some more popcorn in his mouth.

“Who’s Y/n?” Nancy comes back in from making another bowl of popcorn, this one for her and Jonathan, and Eddie points her way to show he’s wondering the same thing.

“She’s my cousin, she’s a little bit older than Steve but she was homeschooled and was basically raised to be a shut-in or something so there’s no way you guys have ever met her. I’m shocked her mom’s even letting her out for this but she asked if she’d be able to tag along with whatever New Years plans I had. So you’ll all meet her tomorrow night. Fair warning though, she’s a bit of a whackjob. It’s how she was raised though and if I hear any of you call her that we’ll fight.”

“Don’t worry, Robin whack jobs are my specialty.” Eddie points to himself with his thumb while leaning forward. “What kind of whack job are we talking here, ditzy, space invader, total weirdo?”

“She’s a little ditzy I guess. Mainly she’s just extremely superstitious.”

“That’s like witchy stuff right?” Steve speaks through a mouthful and barely pulls his attention away from the movie on the tv.

“No it’s like believing that black cats are evil and stuff like that.” Jonathan comes back from the bathroom just in time to correct Steve before Robin can hit him on the back of the head for being stupid. “My mom believes in a few superstitions like crossing your fingers and broken mirrors.”

“Why does believing a few superstitions make her a whack job Robs?”

“It’s not a few or a handful even Nance, she lives by them. Like she didn’t go to public school because she was an extremely clumsy child and her mom believes that tripping over something on your way somewhere means you have to turn back and go home and she didn’t trust that when she was younger she’d listen to it. So homeschool her whole life was somehow the answer.”

“Seems like a lonely childhood.”

“Yeah, she saw me a lot growing up but not much of anyone else.”

“What’s in the bags Y/n?” Robin asks as you get in the car she borrowed from her parents excited for your first party.

“Oh grapes and noisemakers. Mom and I went out to get them today in case there wouldn’t be any there. Where are we going again?”

“Right. Remember I told you about my friend Steve?” You nod. “He’s throwing a party for our group of friends and a few people that he only barely knows through like Eddie and Nancy.”

“Okay.” It’s quiet in the car after that and Robin glances your way to see you playing with the hem of your dress where it rests on your thighs.

“Are you okay? Do you wanna just go to my place and we’ll have our own party just me and you?” As much as Robin wants to spend the night with her friends her love for you outweighs it and she’d rather you be comfortable.

“No! I’m just a little nervous I guess. I mean this is my first party and what if your friends don’t like me or think I’m too weird? And what if I didn’t bring enough grapes for everyone?”

“They’ll love you! You’re literally the sweetest person I know, I mean who worries about bringing enough grapes for people they don’t even know? Besides, we're all a bunch of weirdos. Jonathan is a total loser in the best way, Eddie is so weird that the whole town thought he was a satanist, Steve’s just a complete idiot and like all of his friends are kids. The most normal one out of us is Nancy but even she’s a little odd. And the kids are like drawn to oddballs, not that they themselves aren’t odd but they feel right at home with others and I’m sure you will too. Besides you look cute the boys will-” Your laughter cuts her off and she looks at you. “What?”

“You’re rambling Robs. But thank you I do feel a little less nervous.”

You were still nervous though of course. The only person you’re going to know will be Robin and as excited as you are to meet her friends and hopefully make some friends of your own finally you can’t help but think about how you and your mom don’t even go to family gatherings anymore because of how often family members would try to get you to be ‘normal’ and not believe in her superstitions. Your dad's side of the family was the worst when it came to it and you used to get bullied by your cousins so you stopped going to those long before your mom’s. Thankfully Robin's mom and dad were more understanding because if you didn’t have Robin who knows what kind of a sad hermit you would be.

“I’m glad to help. Really though they’re gonna love you, don't stress about it. And I’ll be right there next to you most of the night.” Robin parks the car in front of Steve’s house and turns to you squeezing your knee in support. “Do you need help with those bags?”

“Could you just take the noisemaker bag? I’ve got the grapes.” She nods and takes the bag you hold out for her before getting out of the car. You’re quick to follow her holding the bags in one hand while the other smooths down your dress that got all bunched up in the car.

“Guess who’s here dingus!” Robin yells out as she bursts into the house ushering you in behind her.

“You’re late Robin, even Eddie beat you here.” Steve rounds the corner and pauses when he sports the two girls in the entranceway bags in hand. “What’s all this?”

“Steve, this is my cousin Y/n. Y/n, Steve.”

“Hi! I hope you don’t mind but I brought noisemakers and grapes.” You wave and hold the bags in your hands up. “I hope I brought enough for everyone to have twelve at midnight.”

“I’m sure you did. You can uh put them in the fridge or something, Eddie will help you figure it out he’s in the kitchen now. It’s just down that hallway to the left.”

“Okay.” You cast a glance towards Robin who nods reassuringly at you before leaving her side. There goes your plan to follow her like a shadow.

“Where do you want the noisemakers?” Steve’s response is low as you make your way down the hallway he pointed to and you don’t hear it. When you turn into the kitchen there’s just one guy in there with his back facing you dumping chips into bowls.

“Stupid Harrington putting me on goddamn snack duty.” Eddie mumbles to himself not sensing a presence behind him.

“Um, excuse me?” He jumps at your voice and whirls around. His eyes go wide as he takes in your form wrapped in a white dress with small light blue polka dots adorned on it. “You’re Eddie right? Steve said you’d help me.”

“That’s uh, that’s me.” He stumbles over his words as he fights with himself to make his eyes move to your face instead of where they’re fixated on how snug the top of your dress is. When his eyes meet your own your breath actually hitches at how pretty he is. “What do you need help with darlin'?”

“I brought grapes and Steve said to put them in here somewhere. Like the fridge or something like that.”

“Well then I guess I’m the man for the job. Harrington put me on snack duty even though it’s his house and his party. So who are you?”

“I’m Y/n. The grapes aren’t-” You take a few steps closer to where he’s searching the cabinets for another bowl.

“Robin's cousin right?” He perks up at recognizing your name and smiles when he sees a small one form on your own face.

“Yep.”

“And you’re superstitious right?” Oh boy, you think to yourself, this is where the teasing will start. “Is that what the grapes are for, or did you just really have a hankering for them?” His response is so unexpected that you can’t help but start laughing partially out of relief and the other part at how he said it. The way he looks at you like he’s genuinely interested keeps the smile on your face as you answer.

“You’re supposed to eat twelve grapes at midnight to bring luck into the new year. Each grape stands for a month.”

“Huh.” Eddie hums as he brings a bowl down. “That must be why I’m so unlucky all the time. I only eat grapes by the handful if I need a snack on my way out of the trailer. We should probably take them off the stems right?” He looks between the grapes now on the counter and you who’s now right next to him.

“We can, it’ll make it easier for everyone to grab some.”

“Then let’s get to work.” He moves the bowl in between the two of you and grabs one of the bundles from a bag. You both work in silence for barely two minutes before he’s talking again. Eddies never really been good with silence; it's why he’s talking all the time or always listening to music. “Is it rude to ask why you believe it or if there’s any truth behind it?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I was just sorta raised with it. My mom says that she used to peel and mash them up before feeding them to me as a baby. As for the truth behind it, I'm not sure if there actually is but once when I was younger my dad miscounted his and only ate eleven, his dad then died later in the year.”

“Shit really?”

“Ya, but he was pretty old and sick anyway.” You shrug. “He didn’t like blame himself or anything because of that. And between you and me my dad never really believed the stuff the way my mom did. He just did it all because it meant so much to her. But that really solidified it for me.”

“Are there any other new years things I should be following?” Your eyes narrow at him not able to tell if he’s genuine or not in his curiosity.

“Are you messing with me?” He gasps as if it’s the most outrageous thing and his hand flies to his chest.

“You wound me, do I really seem so awful that I’d do that?” He then drops the act of being hurt to assure you even more. “This stuff is just genuinely interesting to me.”

“So you actually want to know about other new years superstitions?” The hope in your voice nearly breaks Eddie’s heart because he can just tell it means people have gotten your hope up in the past.

“Really I’d like to know about more than just those specific ones but ya. Wanna just start with the new years ones since that’s what today is?”

“Okay!” You bounce slightly as you start ripping grapes from the stems and Eddie finds it absolutely adorable. “Well there’s the twelve grapes one, um then there’s one about making noise at midnight to scare evil spirits away. I brought noisemakers for that too. That’s actually probably why people set off fireworks and stuff each year.” Eddie nods to show he’s listening and continuously looks over at you as he fills the bowl up. “My outfit is actually all superstition based.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyes rake over the dress again hoping you don’t catch him in the act.

“Mmhm, the white is for good luck, the polka dots are to bring wealth, abundance, and success, and red underwear is to bring luck and help you find your soulmate.” Eddie chokes on his spit at your last comment.

“You still good in here Y/n?” Robin comes into the kitchen and pulls your worried look away from a still coughing Eddie to her.

“Yeah I was just helping Eddie with the grapes.”

“How about we leave Eds here to do it and I’ll introduce you to everyone else?” You look back at Eddie and he clears his throat, nodding.

“Go meet the crew, I'll be out of here and joining the party in no time.” You basically skip over to Robin in your excitement to meet everyone else after seeing how nice Eddie, the supposed satanist, is.

Steve comes into the kitchen soon after the two of you leave and crouches to dig through his lower cabinet.

“Did you come to take me off snack duty?”

“Nope, Dustin’s demanding I find something to put the cookies his mom made on other than the tupperware he brought them in. So I need to find one of my mom's nice pie plates or something. Did you meet Y/n? She’s cute huh?” His voice is muffled as he shoves his head and shoulders inside to find the one he’s looking for.

“Yeah, she’s sweet. Told me the color of her underwear.”

“What?!” Steve bangs his head against the top as he tries to rush out and look at his friend in bewilderment. “Eddie, even I know not to ask someone what color their panties are.”

“I didn’t ask!” His hands go up in defense before quickly going back to dealing with the grapes so he can finally join the party. “I just asked about other new years superstitions and it came out of her like it was the most normal thing to talk about with a stranger.”

“Huh, I guess Robin did say she was sorta odd. So what’s the thing with the grapes, did you ask?” Steve also lets out a little ‘aha’ once he finds the plate he was looking for and stands after he speaks.

“We’re supposed to eat twelve at midnight for luck next year. Each one is a month.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t that.” Steve rubs the back of his head grimacing as he does so. “It’s nice of her to think of everyone to bring enough.” He starts helping taking over the bundle that you left behind.

“Yeah, it seems like sharing this stuff with others makes her happy.” Eddie smiles as he thinks about how you lit up like how the sky will be tonight as you told him about the different superstitions you believed in.

You’ve been talking with Jonathan about the superstitions his mom believes in for the past fifteen minutes. You could barely contain your excitement when he told you his mom believed in some so he knew about a few of them. You had immediately started asking questions about it while Robin chatted with Nancy. She was nice and Robin was right she did seem like the most normal one, though you haven’t really met the kids yet you were brought over to Nancy and Jonathan first.

“Who wants snacks?” Eddie sings out as he makes his way into the big living room. One of the kids goes straight to him and takes a bowl of pretzels right out of his arms before rejoining the group on the couches. Eddie rolls his eyes before moving to put the rest of the bowls on the fold out table set up in the corner opposite where you’re all standing before crossing the room to join the group. “What’s going on over here?”

“Letting Y/n get to know these two before moving onto the nightmare that is the kids.”

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

“They’re annoying little shits.” Eddie chuckles into his can of beer as he speaks. “Dustin’s the worst of them!” He says it loud enough for his friend to hear him and is awarded with a pretzel flying at his head.

“Henderson, what have I said about throwing food in my house?” Steve comes in just in time to see the pretzel land on the floor. He holds his hand out to you once he joins the group. “We didn’t get to meet properly before, I’m Steve and Robin has told me a lot about you.”

“Y/n, Robin’s told me a lot about you too.” You take his hand and he covers yours with his other one as he shakes it.

“All good things I hope.” You nod with a polite smile. “Is your band coming Eddie?”

“Nah, they decided to go to Gareth’s place like we normally would. I was over there for a bit before coming here.”

“You’re in a band?” There’s a sort of awe in your voice that has Eddie bristling with pride even though you’ve never heard of them before. He feels like as long as you keep looking at him like that he doesn’t need to be a rockstar.

“Yeah Corroded Coffin, we play at the Hideout once a week.”

“That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to see live music but I never know where I should go and I don’t really have anyone to go to concerts with.” You’re a little embarrassed mentioning just how little people you know but you remind yourself that that’s why Robin’s helping you branch out.

“Well maybe you could come watch us at some point.”

“That would be great!”

Robin watches the two of you interact with a smile on her face. You’d think she’d be upset with Eddie taking such a liking to you already but she’s just happy that you look right at home with the metal head. She knew that her friends would be accepting of you in a way that she knows you’ve never really had before. She didn’t realize how quickly you would bond with Jonathan or get Eddie basically wrapped around your finger so soon after meeting him though. She should’ve, you’re a sweetheart and have such a warmness about you that she’s always shocked when you tell her about how some people treat you.

“Eddie’s getting pretty cozy with your cousin there Robs.”

“Yeah.” She answers Nancy with a smile on her face turning her attention back to her group of friends.

“Why are you so happy about it?”

“I think they’re gonna be good for eachother, whether that be them just being friends or it leading to more. I mean Eddie’s still dealing with the chaos of people still not quite believing he’s innocent for killing Chrissy and Y/n deals with being labeled as a loon basically on the daily since most of the town knows her mom or at least who she is. I think they’ll be able to relate to one another on a level none of us really will.”

“Huh, when’d you become deep?” She rolls her eyes at Steve’s words.

“I just know who they are. Are your newspaper friends coming Nance?”

“Yeah, they should be here around nine.”

“Argyle will probably be here closer to ten. Thanks again Steve for letting me invite him.” Argyle had moved to Indiana right after graduating and he and Jonathan got an apartment together soon after.

“Yeah no problem, just make sure he doesn’t smoke in the house. I don’t want the living room to reek of weed again.”

“Do you have any new year's resolutions?” You and Eddie sit in the corner of the dining room while the others who are there and have shown up play drinking games or talk to each other. The kids are still taking up the couches in the living room but now they’re watching Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin’ Eve to entertain themselves while everyone else drinks around them.

“I want to make some friends because I can’t just depend on Robin to be there for me all the time. Not that she wouldn’t be, I just don’t want to put all of that on her. Besides, I’m gonna be twenty one next year. I should have more than just one friend who’s my cousin.” You take another sip of the mixed drink you’ve been nursing for the last twenty minutes and Eddie smiles at how you sort of ramble the same way Robin will sometimes. “Do you have any resolutions?”

“I didn’t really, but now I think it’s become your new best friend. Before you know it I’ll be taking Robin’s place.”

“I’d like that.” You beam at him. “But you should know that no one can take her place.”

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news but I need to steal her away for a bit.” Robin comes up next to you and pulls you out of your seat.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been hogging her all night Eddie and I’d like to introduce her to the kids before the new year rings in.”

“Wait, what time is it?”

“Eleven thirty eight.”

“We have to start explaining the grapes and bring them out then.”

“I’ll do that darlin’ you go meet the menaces in the living room. I’ll meet up with you in a bit.” You nod at Eddie extremely thankful and a little shocked that he’d do that for you before letting Robin pull you into the next room.

By the time Eddie joins you in the living room bowl of grapes halfway gone in hand there’s five minutes till midnight. He had enlisted Nancy’s and Steve’s help with putting grapes into smaller bowls twelve in each to hand out to people as they explain what it’s for. He didn’t bother separating the rest once everyone other than the kids, you and Robin had some. He figured you could explain it to the group and he trusted them enough to grab the right amount.

“My mom believes in the breaking a mirror and opening an umbrella inside ones. So I tend to follow them too.” Eddie sits next to you on the couch to catch the middle of a conversation between you and Will.

“So you’re Jonathan's brother right? We were talking a little bit about what superstitions he knew earlier.” Will nods and before anyone can say anything else Eddie chimes in.

“Speaking of superstitions, have you explained the grapes to them yet?”

“Not yet, I find it easier to do with the grapes.”

“Alright.” He nods but keeps speaking before you can explain it yourself, his attention going to the eyes looking his way. “You’re gonna eat twelve grapes at midnight to bring you good luck each month of next year. I’m not missing anything am I?” You’re in awe at how he remembered after you mentioned it once hours ago so all you can do is shake your head no, your lips parted slightly. Normally people would choose to forget about it because they didn’t find it important or they thought it was just some silly thing you did.

“Now all of you just take twelve.” He hands the bowl to Max to start the passing around.

“Did you bring the grapes yourself or did Steve happen to have them in the fridge?” Dustin asks while taking the bowl from Lucas and counting out his grapes.

“I brought them, I really hope there’s enough for everyone though.” You go to look around the room at all the others to see if they got any but get distracted when Eddie places his warm hand on your bare knee.

“Don’t worry we handed everyone else some before I came over here. There should even be some left over after everyone has twelve.”

Everyone starts to trickle into the living room as it gets closer to midnight for the count down. With each pass of the bowl more and more enter the space and by the time it’s your turn to grab the grapes everyone is there. Eddie takes his grapes just as the countdown and ball drop starts on the screen.

“Will you be my New Year's eve kiss?” You rush out between fifty nine and fifty eight.

“What?” Eddie asks in response, confused at fifty seven.

“It’s a superstition I forgot to mention before, a kiss at midnight wards off a year of loneliness and I’ve never had one before. And I’m just so sick of having years of loneliness.” You explain it as simply as you can between fifty six and forty three.

“So do we eat the grapes before or after the kiss then?” Eddie tries to get it right before giving you an answer between forty two and thirty eight.

“Mom and dad always did it after the kiss but I’ve always just had the grapes so I’m not sure about the right way to do it. I’m pretty sure the two superstitions aren’t normally combined though.” You answer and think back on all the previous years you had watched your mom and dad do it between thirty seven and twenty six.

“Oh, okay.” It takes him a second to answer as he ponders it between twenty five and twenty. “I’ve never had the grapes and I don’t normally have a kiss so I can’t be of any help with this.” He continues on between nineteen and twelve.

“Eddie!” You get his attention back to you at eleven just before people around you start to chant down from ten. “Can I kiss you?” You ask again between ten and seven.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He finally answers between six and four. You let out a relieved sigh at three and beam up at him at two. As everyone screams happy new year you’re connecting your lips to his own in quite possibly the sweetest kiss he’s ever had. It doesn’t last long before you’re pulling away to start popping grapes in your mouth. He follows your lead and makes sure you have a noisemaker in your hand once the grapes are gone because he remembered what you told him about evil spirits earlier.

You and Robin leave shortly after that since you wanted to be with your mom for a little bit to celebrate too but you make sure to give Eddie your number with a wink telling him to give you a call if he wanted to know more about your other superstitions.

Eddie Taglist(Closed): @sadbitchfangirl @notbeforelong @munsonswhore86 @navs-bhat @emotionaldreamer @magicalchocolatecheesecake @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @fangirling-4-ever @gaysludge @audhd-dragonaut @eddiethesexy @mazerunnerrose @tvserie-s-world @midnightsgetawaycar @goldylions @spacedoutdaydreamer @livslifeonline @mushroomelephant @hb8301 @ginnupp @saramelaniemoon @kaylshunter @nojamsonmytoast @vintagehellfire @esoltis280 @cole22ann @spikedhe4rt @let-love-bleeds-red @siriuslysmoking @ladybug0095 @toobsessedsstuff @3rriberri @alana4610 @gretavanfleas @sparkletash @herejustforjj @aactuaaltraash @gloryekaterina @quixscentsposts @wormm-mom @eddiemuns0nl0ver @spookyemorockbabe

Everything Taglist: @bejeweledmastermind @matchamunson @bubsonnobx @practicalghost @katsukis1wife @crustyowos @yourfavdummy @protecteddiemunson4vr

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #Eddie munson x superstitious!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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duckiemimi · 8 months

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this was submitted as a submission! i kept their username hidden just in case they wanted their privacy! also, a heads up—i’ll be talking about death and ideation here.

what is a punishment for a monster?

this’ll be a little soft and embarrassing, but who am i if not soft and embarrassing? i think that’s a good thing. i hope you think so, too.

“punishment for a monster” is a very personal story to me. to this day, i’m not quite sure what prompted me to write it. i can’t really pinpoint a specific event in my life that inspired the structure and the story, but i do know that it felt like a long, overdue hug. it felt it was waiting for me, too.

you ask how i came up with the concept.

if i could pick out a more concrete moment of inspiration, it would be after watching Mike Flanagan’s “Haunting of Hill House”! i won’t spoil you too much,

***(skip this part if you’d rather watch it first!)***

but there’s a character in the show who goes around talking to his dead wife on an every day basis, like she’s there but not really there. at first, we’re led to believe that it’s a classic case of a haunting, like the title implies. by the end of the story, it becomes less clear, more murky. it seemed to me like he kept holding onto the memories of her, like he’d built a moving image of his late wife with every moment of her he could remember. so, yeah: she was there, but not really there. memories are building blocks, i think.

***(spoiler over; you’re good!)***

i’ve always had an interest in death and the afterlife, what it means for the people who keep going and what it means for the people who rest. it’s not particularly religious in nature; hell, i’d consider myself far from religious. i don’t know. i guess i wanted to know why some circles close and why circles don’t. why does the pen stop moving?

my cousin died earlier during the pandemic, and it was also during the time i was put on watch. actually, i think i wanted to go before she actually went. i’m older than her, but i guess that didn’t really mean anything in the end. i’ll always be older. and anyway, it’s selfish to want to go when someone’s already on their way, isn’t it?

in my culture, when people die, sometimes they come back as dreams. they’d come back one last time to say goodbye, and that’s when you know they’re happier. i never saw my cousin in my dreams. i guess i wouldn’t call us close. i hope she visited my sister, though. she wouldn’t tell me, but i don’t pry. it’s something between them only.

you ask about the title.

i’ll be honest, i didn’t really know what to title the story. pinterest is a treasure trove of ideas. all i knew was that it had to be a quote about “punishment.”

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. to want something so much—to hold it in your arms—and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

that’s the full quote from a book titled “The Wrath and the Dawn” by Renee Ahdieh. i’ve never read the book before. i’m sure it’s beautiful, and i know that even by this one line. maybe i’ll read it some day.

it’s a sweet irony, i think, to title a story about healing and second chances “punishment for a monster”, to title a story about forgiveness and metamorphosis something so punitive and cruel. but i guess it works in both geto and gojo’s cases. who is the monster here? who is being punished? but i think people can change. i think love transmutes.

you ask if i was as broken as you as you read it.

well, maybe. i tend to realize things in hindsight. at the time, i was only focused on geto and gojo, where to put my commas and spaces, what words to use to talk about loss. i only realized later on that i’ve typed up most of me into it, too. but isn’t that all art? isn’t art just a giant portrait of who we are at the time? i’m rewriting “honesty corner” and i considered rewriting “punishment for a monster”, but i think i want to keep that picture of me from then. if i ever muster up the courage to read it again, it’ll be like looking through a photo album.

i would write more of how i conceptualized geto and gojo in the story, but i think we’ve connected well enough for you to know what i meant. i read every single comment and so many of you have such personal tethers to the story. i won’t get in your way; you deserve to mourn the way you want, too. and anyway, grief is never-ending. it’s a lifetime thing and it isn’t always linear, and though you carry it for life, it doesn’t define you. love defines you.

(though you could say grief is an extension of love. how’s that poem go again? grief is love in a heavy coat?)

thank you so much for liking a story i wrote of my two favorite characters. i don’t think life is made up of straight lines. one day, when we’re both ready, let’s have some clementines at the table.

#punishment for a monster #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #submissions #clementines at the table

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rosalinrabbit · 1 year

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Nectar of the Gods

Blue Banisters Track List

Pairing: Robb Stark x Fem! Mormont Reader

Warnings: Hurt, hurt no comfort, past relationships, family deaths, briefly mentioned violence, final goodbyes, pure angst, Robb being an idiot and putting the North in danger

Summary: After the death of your aunt and your father, you knew you had to return to Bear Island. You couldn’t take it anymore, watching Robb live a life you weren’t a part of any longer. When the King in the North himself finds you packing your bags, many things left unsaid finally come to light.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This is the start of the Blue Banisters Track List!! (A new project which is likely going to be a bit inconsistent in terms of order and posting)

This fic is a mix of show and book canon if that makes sense? I was rewatching the show and every time we get to the whole Robb x Talisa plotline I lose my mind at how weird it is but I digress.

You are in charge of your own media consumption. Please read responsibly.

Do not translate or re-upload any of my work. Works are only cross-posted on AO3.

< What sweet world is this? Honey on the vine..

School kid dreams came true, then passed in the night

I used to dream about people like you, now I don’t know why… >

-Lana Del Rey, Nectar of the Gods

You hurried to pack your things from the tent you had once shared with your aunt, the one you still shared with two of her daughters, your cousins, Dacey and Lyra. Maege’s oldest and third oldest. The rest, Alysane, Jorelle, and Lyanna, remained at Bear Island.

The she-bear is no more. When her daughters decided to remain by the King’s side, you knew you could not. Then, the message came from up North. From the Wall.

To your luck, the raven’s message landed in the hands of Catelyn Stark, not her son’s. It was Catelyn who came up to you, pulling you into her tent to talk alone. Her eyes alone saw the tears when she told you.

Your father was dead. Killed by his own men in a mutiny beyond the wall.

You were taught better than to react in the way you did, in disbelief and agony. In shock. You had stared at the older woman for a few moments before you could even process her words, yet your eyes seemed to beat your mind to it, tears streaming down your face as you stared past Catelyn, towards the opening of the tent and out into the beyond.

When the sobs broke through, you felt her hands on your arms, holding you up so you wouldn’t fall over, bringing you close and providing you with the comfort only a mother could, even though you would never get to call her by that name.

Even though she herself had expected you to one day.

You were thankful that Catelyn atleast understood your pain. While you hailed from Bear Island, while you held the name Mormont and were loyal as can be to House Stark, while you knew how to fight and lead like the rest of your family, the pain of it all weighed on you. As much as you tried to hide it, for the pride of your house, for your own dignity, it was far too much, and you and the Stark matriarch both knew the pain went beyond the death of your father.

It was everything inbetween.

The two Stark girls whom you loved like sisters, in what felt like increasingly mortal danger because of Robb’s rebellion.

The death of your aunt, who cared for you as though you were her own when your mother died, when your much older half-brother Jorah disgraced the house, and when your father left to take the black.

The fear for your house and your future, leaving your dear young cousin Lyanna at home and in charge of Bear Island with her mother’s most trusted advisors.

The fact that your father was killed by his own men, by the job he had commited his life to.

The heartbreak of Robb moving on.

The anger caused by his stupidity.

The moment you learned he had married that Westerling woman, the one who traveled along with the infantry, healing men who probably didn’t have a chance, you knew this war was doomed. Not because of what Walder Frey would do, but because of Robb’s clear lack of foresight. How could he not see what the rest of you saw? All for one woman.

You had never asked that of him.

Your engagement had been broken off when the war began. He told you he wanted to keep the engagement but did not want you to be a target, and you had told him that the greatest chance he’d have at winning this war was through an advantageous marriage. One that would offer far more than your family could. You didn’t do it because you didn’t love him, no. The both of you were desolate at the reality of it all. In your mind, you hoped he would refuse to marry throughout the war. Hoped the “young wolf” would be strong enough, that he wouldn’t need to. But you knew better, and you knew he needed the numbers. If Arya and Sansa were going to survive, he needed a stronger army and a wife that could offer more to him standing by his side.

When he promised to marry Walder Frey’s daughter, your heart broke. Yet the passage was worth it. The North was worth it.

You would do it a thousand times over for Sansa and Arya, and you’d do the same for your own young cousins that were like sisters to you. Not that Dacey and Lyra needed protecting, but if they did, you would do it for them without much thought.

For his family, for his sisters, you broke the engagement.

And Robb threw all of that away, and the North along with it, by marrying Talisa.

As you changed into more suitable riding clothes, you couldn’t help but think of the past. Of when you thought you had it all figured out. You closed your eyes, and tears slipped out at the memories of him.

Holding his hand and walking through the glass gardens. Braiding Sansa’s hair. Chasing after Bran and Arya as they climbed up walls and through windows.

Or when he kissed you in the Godswood, telling you that you were standing on the spot where you would eventually marry.

Lies.

You would never have any of those things again.

“Y/n?”

You startled at Robb’s voice, wiping away any stray tears and turning around to prepare to face him, hiding your bags behind your back.

“Yes, your highness?” You responded bitterly as he entered the tent on your response.

“Please don’t call me that. When did you ever get so formal?” He muttered.

“I’ve always been formal to those who require it.”

“I do not require it of you.”

“Your station and our relationship does.”

“You mean our lack of a relationship?” He bit slightly before calming again.

You stood, unmoving, eyes glazing past him as you waited for him to get on with it. He stepped forward and you stiffened.

“I had realized we never spoke about Maege…” He stepped even closer and his hand reached up before you quickly took a step back from him, confused at his purpose and his words. He looked at you with a pained expression at your coldness, and it just made you angry. None of this was your choice. “Your aunt was a great woman,” he began. “I know you loved her deeply, and she looked after you like you were her own. I am truly sorry for your loss.”

Perhaps, under different circumstances, Robb’s condolences may have made you soften. May have had you second-guessing your choice to leave. Now, looking at him, you could hardly recognize the man you once loved. He spoke with the compassion he always seemed to hold within him, yet the way he stood, the way he looked, he had this strange self-righteousness. As if this could save you from your pain… and what of your father? He must not know.

You stood there staring at him before you spoke, in as neutral a tone as you could muster. “We have all made great sacrifices, your highness. I believe my aunt may rest easy knowing her own sacrifice, that of her life, saved countless others.” Unlike you, you thought to yourself. No, he sacrifices others. Not himself.

Robb wasn’t an idiot, and his expression sunk at your words. “I appreciate every sacrifice that has been made on behalf of the North.”

Sadness and anger were welling up within you, and gods, you wanted to yell at him. You wondered if you could still get away with something like that, yet you simply muttered, thinking of your father, your aunt, the stark girls. “And a great many, indeed.”

“Y/n… do not insinuate that I do not know sacrifice. I have lost as much, if not more, compared to all those here.”

“Whatever you believe,” you spoke, looking directly into his eyes, “it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? It doesn’t matter what we’ve lost, it’s already gone.” You turned your head away, willing tears to stay put in your eyes.

“I am sorry.”

You didn’t know what he was apologizing for. “It is what it is.”

“I made you a promise. And I broke it.”

“You did.”

“Why must you always act like it doesn’t matter to you?” He scoffed, frustrated. There was a pause. “Were you.. were you packing up your things to leave?”

You turned to look at your bags on the bed.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, your highness.”

“Don’t call me that, please, for gods sakes. And all I ever wanted was an ounce of pushback from you! We were to be married, and you gave that away so easily, yet now you punish me for it every day because I married Talisa!”

“Robb,” you spoke harshly, stopping his rant, giving him what he seemed to want. An honest response. “You’re right, I am angry with you. Just not for the selfish reasons you think I am.”

“Well if you’re abandoning the war effort, it’s better for me to hear it now before you’re taken prisoner.”

You sighed at his childish threat. “I think you haven’t seen a single thing I’ve done. Of course breaking the engagement mattered to me! How could you not see that? You know how much I loved you, how on earth could you really think I gave that up so easily? Without second thoughts? I did it for you! And you’re so far up your own arse at this point that you can’t even see that! I sacrificed my love for you for the lives of your sisters. For the chance to win this war. Is that not a good enough reason for you? It’s not that you married Talisa, it’s that I agreed to end the engagement while under the impression that it would change the tides of the war. That you would marry a Frey and secure the twins. But you didn’t do that, Robb. And it felt like a knife in my back.” Robb stood a few paces away from you, a hurt expression across his face, one of shame and sadness. “I made that sacrifice for nothing.”

“I love her. That’s why I married her. I loved, I still love, you… I could not marry a woman I did not love. It wouldn’t have been right for either of us.”

“This is not about love, Robb. It is about duty, and honor. I know you believe what you did was honorable, honorable to the sanctity of vows and marriage… but you killed hundreds if not thousands of our men with your choice. Is that worth it to you? Is that truly so honorable, if it meant breaking your promises?”

“We will make it right with the Freys, and pay our debts another way. But you, you broke your promise to me. And now you stand here with your bags packed, is that not breaking your promise, too?”

“I did it for your family! I did it to try to save your sisters, and I did it for you! How can you not see that? And I’m leaving now because my family is in trouble, my cousins just lost their mother and now must rule the island. I’ve given up so much for you, for your family…” You rose your voice in anger, beginning to lose control of your emotions, hands beginning to shake as you tied up your bags.

“Even if they are family, what would your father think of you being a deserter?”

“Do not speak of my father-“ your voice broke, tears welling up in your eyes.

“If you were under his command he’d have you killed for abandoning your position, y/n,”

“He’s dead, Robb!” You yelled, eyes locking to his, tears dripping from your eyes like spring rain. “My father is dead.”

“Y/n- I didn’t know,” Robb’s face had fallen to one of sympathy, his hand reached out for you, to comfort you like he had so many times in the past. And this time you let his hand reach your shoulder. You stiffly let him protectively put a hand on the top of your head, and pull you into his embrace. After a moment, you relaxed into his warmth, exhaling shakily as the tears kept coming. “I know how much he meant to you. I am so sorry…”

“Robb, you have to let me go,” you whispered, and you knew he understood you meant he needed to let you return home, because his hold around you was maintained. “I don’t have anything left for me here. I want another chance. A chance to be happy. I want to protect and defend my home, and the family I have left.”

“I can’t,” he told you earnestly. “I can’t.”

“You’re married, you moved on… So why won’t you let me?”

“I didn’t, really. I couldn’t.”

“But you did. You can’t take any of it back, Robb. And I know that I can’t either.” You paused to collect yourself before continuing. “Do you want to know how my father died?”

He was silent for a moment before asking, “how?”

“His own men killed him. There was a mutiny.” His grip around you tightened. “My father was an incredibly respected man. And in the end, no matter how much he did right, he did not pay enough attention to what was right in front of him. I don’t think he ever considered just how possible it was that his men would turn on him.”

“The North is stronger than a band of criminals. We have a family name to stand behind, we have bannermen who swore oaths for generations. It is different,” he rationalized, looking down at you. And you looked up, and then, you could remember why you fell in love with him. With his handsome face and dark curls, his fierce yet pragmatic nature, the overwhelming protection, and the way his adoration for you shone through his eyes. The way you could feel it. And your heart hurt, because you thought he might be wrong. His eyes stayed on yours as you spoke.

“Nothing is as strong as it seems, Robb… You just crossed Walter Frey. One of the most selfish men I’ve ever met, the lord of a great river lands house, and of the crossing, which you desperately need for this war… I could be wrong. I could be, but I’ve already lost you. I’ve already lost your sisters. I’ve lost my aunt, who raised me as her own, and I’ve lost my father. I cannot be here anymore. There is nothing for me here, and while I can never forgive you for the choices you made, I also cannot bear to lose more of you than I already have.”

Robb brought his hands up to your face, brushing the water from your eyes as his own eyes welled with tears.

“You have to let me go,” you pleaded again, voice barely even a whisper.

“I know,” he nodded. “At least let me get a horse and supplies for you. Meet me at the eastern edge of the camp.”

And with that, he quickly withdrew his hands, leaving your tent without a second glance.

As you waited, you ensured you had packed everything. You double-checked the items and re-laced your boots before throwing on a warm cloak and stepping outside. The air was growing colder, and with the winds came winter.

You quickly made your way to the edge, and by the tree line you spotted him. Standing with your horse, already saddled.

He was silent when you approached, and could not meet your eye as he took your bags and attached them. He automatically held a hand out to help you mount, but when you took it, he looked at you again. And he truly looked at you. His eyes ran over the details of your face, like he was committing it to memory, and held your hand like a lifeline. He looked at you with sad desperation, pulling you into a hug once more, tucking your head under his chin and holding you so tight you could hardly breathe. When his grip loosened, he placed a tender kiss to your forehead, and within it held every memory, and every touch.

“You know where to go. Just promise me to be careful. Go quickly, don’t stop for anyone… I love you, y/n.” His voice sounded hoarse, too much emotion behind it to even speak of.

“I love you too, Robb,” you told him, staring deep into his eyes as you cried for what felt like the millionth time that day. “And I am sorry that wasn’t enough.”

He simply nodded, and helped you onto the horse.

He did not look at you as you fixed the hold on the reins or the lay of your cloak along your back, but as you urged your horse into a galloping pace and you looked back, his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew then that you would always love him, and no matter how lost he made you feel, and while you could never forgive him, you could now move forward. You knew you could find your way.

Whether Robb made it through or not, your situations wouldn’t change. Too much had transpired to ever go back.

No, even if you both survived this war, you knew that this would be the last time you ever saw Robb Stark.

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #king in the north #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #house stark #rorabbit

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obscureblorbofics · 1 year

Text

Dracula and Chill (NSFW)

Foxy Coltrane x gn!reader

18+ only! Minors be gone!

Summary: reader goes on vacation to Mexico with friends and meets Foxy in a bar.

Warnings: smut, mention of Foxy being a serial killer (does it really need to be said? If you've watched the movie you already know), alcohol

Length: 3.5k words

(For the purpose of the fic, reader is American and AFAB)

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Your phone rings.

"Any chance you'd want to go on vacation with us next month?"

Alexis had been your friend all throughout high school and was trying to set something up with a few friends so you could catch up without the pressures of work or responsibilities. You think for a second before responding back.

"I have some vacation time saved up. Let me know when and where"

"Durango, Mexico. Not the most interesting place but it's cheap and it'll definitely be a nice change of pace for a week. Thinking February 16th to the 23rd. Brooke already said that week is free for her and I'm still waiting for a response from Ryan"

You check your calendar, seeing nothing pre-planned to stop you. You put the call on hold and call your boss to ask about getting that week off. He makes note of it and tells you to have fun.

"Yea I'm free that week. Need to get my passport updated before then but we should be good"

The plane lands, jolting you awake. The drunk bachelorette party a few rows in front of you woops and hollers rowdily. You look to Alexis, who had mentioned a headache a mere 20 minutes into the flight. You offer a sympathetic glance, to which she responds with a smile. You grab both of your carry ons out of the overhead bin, handing her hers and checking on the row behind you that contained the rest of the group. The four of you exit the plane and go through the usual post-flight bathroom breaks.

After everyone is out and accounted for, the group heads to the rental desk and goes through the process of renting a car. After maybe about twenty minutes of driving, you come upon the shabby little hotel Brooke's uncle owned and had left to her cousin upon his death.

Once checked in and settled in your rooms, the four of you leave to get dinner. You find a little restaurant nearby and order food.

Dinner conversation is mostly tame and what you'd expect from the group. Alexis commented on how Brooke's cousin flirted with her when offering the group a discounted rate. Ryan tells the group about scoring his dream job that he'd be starting in April. Brooke showing everyone pictures of her son and talking about how motherhood has treated her.

The next morning the group of you set out sightseeing in the city nearby rather than stay in the small town for the whole time. Once you head back, Ryan has an idea.

"I saw a bar not far from the hotel. We should check it out. Might be interesting" he shrugs and you all agree it's worth trying.

The four of you make your way to the bar and order your drinks. They're out fairly quickly, and you get to exploring the place. There's a few rowdy men throwing knives at a particle board target, some women who seem to be there mainly for the purpose of getting laid and not much else, a few isolated groups of patrons, and the trio at the other end of the bar. They're all roughly middle aged, but the blonde woman with them has the energy level of a teenager. She seems to be the life of the party in the bar.

The two men with her, however.. The older one seemed irritated at the woman's antics, clearly trying to pick up a woman at a table nearby. The other one was attractive to say the least. Tall and lanky, with longish honey brown hair and blue eyes. You'd always had a thing for older men. And he was looking straight at you. His face broke into a smug grin and he winked before bringing his attention back to the other people he was there with.

You take this as a sign to get back to your friends as well. You tune back into the conversation, noting it to be about everyone's college experiences. Not much for you to add. You finish your drink up only to see another slide in front of you once you put the empty one down. You arch an eyebrow in a silent request for explanation. The bartender shrugs and points to the end of the bar. At the man you were just observing. He gestures for you to come over.

You let your friends know you're going to look around some more and 'socialize with the locals' as you so put it, before slipping away and joining the stranger.

As soon as you approach him, he gives you the same shit eating grin as earlier. "Hey sweetheart, come here often?"

You roll your eyes at the cheesy overused line. "First time. Vacation with friends. What about you?"

He shrugs. "Been living in the area 'bout 3 months. Not much to do 'round here" He pauses for a moment. "Oh where are my manners? I'm Foxy."

You offer a weak smile at his introduction. "I'm (Y/N)."

He smirks. "Lovely name for a lovely person. Mind sticking around a while?"

"I don't see why not."

He offers you a chair and you sit down.

The two of you talk for what seems like hours before Brooke approaches you. "We're heading back to the hotel. Here's the spare key to the room whenever you're ready." She drops the key in your hand and you stash it away in your pocket.

Foxy takes a look behind him real quick. You notice the other people he was there with are gone. "Well. It looks like Otis and Baby ditched. How bout you join me and we ditch too?"

You agree and he pays off your tab for you, throwing an arm around you and guiding you out of the bar. After walking down the street for maybe ten minutes you come upon a modest building. The other man from earlier, Otis you presume, is sitting in a lawn chair with a beer. He notices the two of you and waves at Foxy but says nothing.

Foxy holds the door open for you, and swats at your behind as you enter.

You take a look around, checking out your surroundings as you head for the couch. Nothing too out of the ordinary besides the large number of weapons either openly out on display or poorly hidden. To be fair you did hear about some gang activity nearby so it couldn't hurt to be cautious if you live in the area.

He sits down next to you. The two of you talk about backgrounds for a while. You find out the people he was with earlier were his siblings. Otis you had seen on the way in and Baby was out doing who knows what. He mentions being really into classic movies and having amassed a fairly large collection of them. You offer to watch one with him if he didn't mind and he leads you to the bedroom.

The inside of Foxy's bedroom is exactly what you'd expect. Old movie posters on the wall and a large hunting knife on the nightstand accompanied by several empty beer bottles. You sit down on the bed and he puts a VHS tape in the player before sliding into bed next to you. Once the movie starts you notice it's the original Dracula.

About twenty minutes into the movie Foxy wraps his arm around your shoulders and you instinctively lean into him. You don’t take your attention off the movie to look at him, but you hear a low chuckle beside you.

After another half hour or so a hand makes its way to your thigh. You ignore it at first, but then it slides higher and begins to squeeze, so you glance over at the man beside you. Same shit eating grin you’ve come to associate with him.

“Well don’t look at me, babydoll. Pay attention to the movie.”

You cautiously obey, not sure where this would go, but certainly not mad at the development. A minute or so of squeezing and rubbing your thigh later, he goes for your pants button. You turn back around to say something about it, but he quickly stops you, shushing you gently before replying in the same cocky tone that got you into this situation to begin with.

"I said focus on the movie. Don't mind me havin’ a feel."

The second he says that, you feel his hand slip into your underwear. He uses the arm still around you to move you into his lap. His fingers make their way down, checking for evidence that you’re enjoying this as much as he is. He drags his fingers through the wetness he found there, bringing them up to play with your clit. At first he was gentle, barely touching you. Ghosting over where you wanted him most and teasing you experimentally to see what made you gasp and squirm. He figured this out rather quickly, judging by the way you were panting and squirming and trying to close your legs around his hand.

You lay back into his chest and feel him hard and poking into your back. This somehow makes you even wetter. He gets you right to the edge but when you're about to cum, he backs off.

Foxy waits for you to cool down before he begins again, filling this time by placing soft kisses all over your neck. You moan and tilt your head to give him better access.

Once he deems it safe to continue without you finishing too soon, he moves a finger down to your entrance. It stays there for a moment, gathering you juices, before he easily slides it all the way in. You gasp and grab onto his thigh next to you. Your legs begin to shut again on their own accord, but he holds them open, making sure you can’t move away. He pumps it in and out experimentally, waiting until you calm down to add a second. His fingers curl up inside you, perfectly hitting your g-spot. When he figures out he found the right spot, he rubs it in soft circular motions. Your eyes flutter closed and he stops.

“Watch the movie. It’s almost over. Wouldn’t want you missin’ the ending, now would we?” Foxy flashes you a toothy grin and you try to focus on the screen.

He starts again, and you’re careful to keep your attention on the movie rather than Foxy. You only really have to hold out another ten minutes before the movie ends and the screen fades to black. As soon as the movie is over, he grabs your throat, squeezing just hard enough to be pleasurable.

He pulls his fingers out of you and cleans them off in his mouth.

“Damn, doll. You taste good. You should have a taste.” and with that, he kisses you. It’s sloppy and dirty, but still soft enough to be enjoyable. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and he’s right. It is good.

You get off his lap and stand up to take your clothes off. He watches closely as you expose more and more skin.

Foxy jumps up and joins you, quickly throwing his shirt off and unbuckling his belt. He rips his pants and underwear down his legs and pushes you down on the bed. His hand cracks down on your ass and your hips jolt forward, away from him. He cackles like a madman at your reaction and slaps the other side with just as much force. This time you’re expecting it, and it actually feels good. So naturally, you lean into his touch.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t ya?” You nod, rubbing your thighs together to try to get some friction. “Ya want some more?” You nod again. “Gonna have to ask me nicely.” You whimper out, trying to muster up a singular brain cell to give him a coherent response.

“P-please Foxy. Please give me more.” you stutter out shakily.

“Gladly.” He rapid fire gives you six more slaps before grabbing and squeezing your ass. It stings and you can feel the warmth radiating from your flesh, but you can also feel how soaking wet you are. So can he. You feel the head of his cock slipping through your wetness. You try to push back on it, desperately needing filled up. His grip on your hips stops you in your tracks.

“Patience, sweetheart. You’ll get it soon. I like to have a little fun first.” He takes the next few moments to slowly, torturously tease you with his cock before he finally lines up with your pussy and pushes inside. He lets out a deep pleasured groan directly into your ear. You moan at the feeling of finally being stretched open. It’s been a while, and Foxy is giving you exactly what you need.

“Damn, dollface. You feel so good. Might have to keep you around just for this.” He rolls his hips a few times experimentally, figuring out what you do and don’t like, and which spots to hit to make you writhe beneath him. Just like with his fingers, he finds it quickly and you moan, definitely louder than you should've considering there are other people in the house, but you’re too focused on the pleasure Foxy is giving you to think about anything else. He grabs your hip with one hand, and the other goes down to rub your clit. The room is full of the sounds of his hips slapping against your ass, your wetness squelching around his cock, and the combined noises from both of you and that ambiance is more arousing than you would’ve thought. After a few particularly hard thrusts and his hand that was previously on your hip making its way around your throat, you feel yourself begin to get close. The hand around your throat squeezes enough to make your vision start to blur and it intensifies everything you're feeling in a way you’ve never experienced before.

“Foxy, yes! Don’t stop!” You cry out, feeling your orgasm moments away.

“That’s it. Cum for me, sweetheart”

Your orgasm hits, and it’s blinding. You’re vaguely aware of Foxy groaning beside your ear and a warm feeling spreading inside you. He fucks you through your orgasm before pulling out and rolling to collapse beside you. You crawl back up into the bed and he follows you. Your head makes its way to his chest, sweaty bodies slightly sticking together in a way that would otherwise seem gross, but in your post-coital bliss is endearing. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall asleep in your comfy embrace.

The next morning, you wake up, naked, in an unfamiliar place, using someone’s stomach as a pillow. You look around and remember the events of last night. Finding someone at the bar. Going home with him. Watching Dracula. The sex.

You quickly get dressed and sneak out of the house, walking back to the hotel. You unlock the door to the room you’re sharing with your friends, and they're having breakfast. Brooke glances up to look at you, and laughs.

“Ooh the walk of shame. Assuming things went well with mystery man from the bar last night?”

You nod, looking anywhere but her. “I’m going to go shower.”

That night, the group decides to go back to the same bar, reasoning that they had decently good drinks and were reasonably close to the hotel, so they could get drunk without worrying about having a designated driver.

The group orders their drinks and finds a table. Not long after sitting down, Ryan elbows you in the ribs to get your attention.

“Hey (Y/N), isn’t that your guy from last night?”

You cautiously turn your head to look in the direction he’s gesturing to and see Foxy with his siblings that you briefly met yesterday. Otis and Baby, you think. But of course you weren’t focused on too much other than him.. And that damn movie he wouldn't let you look away from. You nod.

“You should go talk to him” Alexis encourages, quickly catching onto the gist of the conversation.

You shook your head. “Nah. I figured it was more of a one night stand than anything else.” The thought was tempting though. He was cute, great in bed, and from what you knew you got along well with him. But he lived here and you were just on vacation. You had to go back home in four days. Better not to get too attached to people you meet on vacation.

However, across the room, Foxy was debating the same thing. Hook ups were nice and all, but sometimes he got greedy, wanting more than the limited connection allowed by one night of sex. He had explained his dilemma to his siblings. Otis laughed, accusing him of going soft on them, then suggesting he just kidnap you. That wouldn’t work. They had just built a decent life where no one would be looking for them, it wouldn’t be good to ruin that because he wanted pussy.

Baby, however, was a little more sympathetic to his situation and had better advice than kidnapping. She suggested that he just talk to you. To lay the charm on thick the way he was known to. He thought about it for a moment, before concluding she wasn't wrong. It was at least worth a shot. So he got up and started heading for your table

The conversation had moved on from what you did last night to what your former high school classmates were up to now. Ryan’s eyes widened slightly, and you didn’t have time to ask why before a set of hands settled themselves on your shoulders.

“Damn, sweetheart. Didn’t even wake me up for a proper goodbye?”

You blushed. Apparently the decision of whether or not to talk to Foxy again had been made for you. Your friends immediately started paying attention to the two of you, deeming this much more entertaining than what they were previously talking about. You, however, didn’t really want to have this conversation with an audience. So you got up, telling Foxy you wanted to go somewhere more private to talk. He agreed, and led you to the bar’s patio area.

The two of you sit down at a table outside and discuss the things that happened last night. How you liked the movie. How you liked what happened during and after. Why you left without waking him. He found a piece of paper and scribbled his phone number down on it, hoping you’d at least stay in contact for the rest of your vacation. You shoved it in your pocket with the key for the hotel room, making a mental note to call him later. Then he drops the line you were hoping to hear, but unsure if you would. He wanted last night to happen again. So did you. So it did. You actually waited for him to wake up before leaving this time and were rewarded with some nice morning sex. That happened two more times before you had to leave.

Once back in the states, you had maintained loose contact with Foxy. Of course a good majority of your phone calls would end in phone sex, but getting to talk to him was always nice, long distance fees be damned. One night, you’re on the phone with him while you make dinner. The news is playing on the TV in the background, and you're only barely paying attention to it. But the one time you do look over to the TV, you drop the phone in shock. Three mugshots are displayed on the TV with the information that there’s been a search for them for several months. One of them being Foxy, and the other two being his siblings that you’ve come to be acquainted with during your visits to their house. You knew they seemed familiar for a reason. You scramble to pick up the phone and put it to your ear to catch Foxy asking if you’re still there and asking what happened.

“You’re.. You’re on TV” you manage to whisper out.

“Aw fuck, babydoll. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out” He then briefly explains what all happened and asks if you’re going to try to turn him in. Your mind however, is somewhere completely different.

“Wait.. your name is actually Winslow?”

“Yeah.. really doesn’t fit me too well, does it?”

“I absolutely get why you go by Foxy now.. No offense, but Winslow is an unmoanable name if I’ve ever heard one.” you chuckle, completely unfazed that you’re talking to a serial killer. To you he’s still Foxy, the guy you met in a bar in Mexico, and got a little too attached to.

“To answer your question, I’m not going to turn you in. This won’t change much. Besides, I always did have a thing for bad boys”

#winslow foxworth coltrane #foxy coltrane x reader #winslow foxworth coltrane x reader #3 from hell #foxy x reader #foxy coltrane smut

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