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hyuuukais · 2 months

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-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, y/n talks abt being compared to her sister, family tension, food/eating mention, lowkey survivors guilt going on

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER FIFTEEN -> LIKE IT USED TO BE (partially written, wc: 898)

"Oh good, you're not dead yet," Han speaks a bit loudly into the phone and you move it away from your face slightly.

The bright screen has your eyes straining in the otherwise dark room, tucked under a plush comforter from your childhood. It's amazing it's still in good condition considering how old it is, but your bed squeaks under you to remind you of the age of this room full of old memories. On the night stand next to you is a framed photo of you with your family, your mom and dad standing behind you and another little girl, slightly taller than you; your sister. You lean over and put the frame face down.

"Still alive, barely," you reply with a sigh. "Why'd you assume I'm having a bad time?"

"Let me think," he puts a finger to his bottom lip in fake concentration. "'How am I supposed to last four more days'... doesn't exactly sound like someone having a good time."

"You caught me, but I swear it's nothing." A lie. "Nothing interesting." A truth; is your family drama really worth talking about? "How's the apartment?"

"Fine. We've started to try and befriend the guy down the hall, Seungmin? Maybe you've run into him?" You shake your head. "Minho seems to get along with him the best. I think it's because they both act unwelcoming to strangers."

This makes you snort. The two of you continue to talk and laugh, the cats making an appearance at one point with Minho, who gives you a short wave, and you don't realize how late it's getting until your eyes catch the time briefly; 3:08AM. Shit. How loud have you been? You freeze when you hear a door open, muting Jisung on the other end and flipping your phone over. Your door opens.

"What are you doing up so late? Don't you know what time it is?" Your sister groans. "And you're being kind of loud, mind keeping it down a bit? Who're you even talking to?"

"No one," you say too quickly, internally cringing at yourself. "Sorry. I'm going to bed soon."

"You're lucky it was me and not mom who walked in here," she says with a sort of laugh. "She would have screamed her head off and taken your phone, despite being an adult now."

You sit up. "Yeah."

"She really fucked us up a bit, huh?" She sits next to you hesitantly when you don't reply. "Maybe we'd be closer now."

"Hyo-"

"I'm sorry," she stands suddenly. "I shouldn't be saying all this. Forget this, please." Your older sister stands in the doorway, eyes pleading. "Don't mention this to anyone, okay?"

"Okay," you whisper, knowing damn well Jisung heard every word.

As you listen to her footsteps fade, you learn to breath again, flipping your phone back over and unmuting Han. When he notices you're back, he says nothing, fiddling with the string on the hoodie he wears.

"You-"

"It's okay-" You speak at the same time and laugh, breaking the newfound tension. He continues. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I guess this is what you meant by complicated?"

You pout, eyes beginning to sting. When you speak, your voice breaks a little. "Yeah, I mean, it's hard, you know? All my life I've been compared to Hyo by my mother and teachers and even my friends. Like, I have to be her instead of myself, and she never once stepped in to protect me from all that like a big sister is supposed to. Never heard her stand up for me when it was happening right in front of her, no moment of 'hey, let my little sister be who she wants, you already have one of me'. I feel like I can't talk to her anymore. I'm rambling, sorry."

"No, it's okay," Han reassures you.

"We used to be close when we were young," you speak into the space he's left you. "Then as we got older, we drifted. We're only a few years apart, but she always acted so much better than me once we hit a certain age. She said hurtful things to me a lot, and I'm sure I said equally awful things back." A tear falls onto your blanket and you sniff, looking up to your ceiling where a poster of a boy band is pinned to prevent more from falling. "I want my sister back, but... I think there's too much pain."

"Oh Y/nnie," Han gives you a sad look. "I wish I could hug you right now."

"I'm just saying stupid stuff now, I should sleep." You've overshared and want out of this conversation ASAP. "Goodnight Han, sleep well."

He's about to protest when you hang up, moving your phone next to the frame to charge. For a while you lay there, staring at your ceiling with a heavy weight on your chest. You've never fully talked to someone about the way your upbringing made you feel or the way it still affects you. There's still a scared little girl inside of you, shying away from hands that want to hold you, comfort you. Because what if it's all a lie? What if they all leave you, like Hwa? Or like... like him?

You glance over to the frame again, not having it in you to flip it back up.

notes -> me vs y/ns mother rn- who do we think this "him" is referring to? and what happened? will hyunjin and y/n make up?

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15 @splat00z

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #stray kids smau #skz smau #non idol au #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee know smau #lee minho smau #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x fem reader #lee minho x fem reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #smau #social media au

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bellewintersroe · 8 months

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Carlos Sainz x CelebEx! Reader 18+.

Carlos’ ex, world famous model, actress and, much loved F1 presenter, Lila Maynard bumps into him during the Italian GP and she confronts him about his hypocrisy 🙄🙄 (arguments and ensue and we see how Carlos most definitely makes it up to Lila).

what do you all think of Isa’s tik toks? I’m living for her liking all the shady comments, she’s a queen.

“Tanti auguri a te, tanti auguri a te!” I winced in confusion, recognising the tune of ‘Happy birthday’ being chimed out in Italian. September 1st, there was only one person I knew celebrated on that day and that was my ex boyfriend of six months, Carlos Sainz. Fuck. “Tanti auguri a Carlos, tanti auguri a te!”

“Hip, hip hooray.” I sarcastically muttered to myself, keeping my head down and walking out of the hotel, a wall separating the Carlos frenzy crowd and I. Thank god, my stomach churned just at the thought of catching sight of my ex boyfriend. We had been separated for almost six months, and not spoken in five. Despite working on the grid, interviewing drivers I was strictly able to avoid the Ferrari garages, occasionally I’d go speak with Charles, but it was difficult seeing as Carlos was always nearby, watching me with these puppy eyes that made me want to gauge my eyes out. You see, Carlos seemed to move on pretty quickly with a beautiful model, our two year relationship clearly meaning nothing more than one month to him. Four weeks. That’s all it took, it sickened me to the core. I still had an internalised anger directed towards him, but it was squashed when I stepped out from behind the wall and was suddenly face to face with an innocent looking Carlos.

Hooray…

My breath hitched and out of pure panic, I began with a breathless; “happy-” but I was cut off when a beautiful, tall brunette appeared by Carlos’ side. Carlos looked stunned, mouth open as his eyes were wide staring at me. The girl looked me up and down before staring right back to the Spanish man. She hooked her arm around his protectively. My jaw fell slightly agape and I nudged my chin up in acknowledgement. “-Birthday.” The words fell flat, as did the harsh pounding of my heart. It dropped all the way to the bottom of my stomach as I turned away in a revolted shock.

I strode straight past him, plastering the most fake smile over my face as I waved to people yelling out my name. As soon as I climbed in the back of the car I was a trembling mess. Jesus fucking Christ, that couldn’t have been more awkward. I felt the tears well up as I stared directly down to my cream pants, the camera flashes from out the window capturing me in the most vulnerable moment as I attempted to shield my face, swiping at the tears. Hours later, the images were sprawled all across social media. Images of my head down, tears stained down my cheeks, images of me directly across from Carlos, stood face to face with him and the girl pinned as his new ‘lover’. It wasn’t the same girl as I’d seen all over tik tok, Instagram and Twitter all those months ago. Still, it bothered me. Really bad. It seemed social media was having a frenzy over the cringe worthy interaction, people were trolling Carlos saying it was his ‘birthday canon event’ to bump into me. I truly had no desire to head out that evening, but I knew wallowing in a hotel room on a Friday night would do me no good, so I was two glasses of wine down with three of my friends when I heard a very familiar tune. “Tanti auguri a te…” I groaned, dropping my head onto my arm, rested on the table below. “End my fucking life. Now.” I muttered.

“Oh, Lila.” Taylor sighed, twisting a strand of my hair. Listening to what seemed to be the whole bar singing happy birthday to my ex boyfriend was the final straw for me, I took off early. But not before I took one final trip to the toilet.

On my way out, I audibly sighed at the heavy feeling lingering over my chest. When would this ever end? I pushed my lipgloss and phone back into my bag as I stepped out from around the corner. I wasn’t looking where I was going and bumped directly into another body.

“Oh, fuck!” I blinked a few times, stepping back. “I’m so sorry-” my apology fell flat when I looked up and caught sight of the stranger- stranger.

“I- wanted to talk to you…” two pairs of familiar hands were on my shoulders, easing me as my stomach filled with nerves instantaneously. It was Carlos. He must’ve heard the way my breath hitched, his hands slowly dropping as we just stared back to one another.

“Talk to me?” I swallowed, “in the girls bathroom?”

“Actually… here is fine, Lila.” My eyes fluttered shut as I pitched the bridge of my nose momentarily. “I- look, happy birthday and well done in practice and all, but- I-I really don’t want to do this Carlos.” I admitted as he swallowed harshly. The first thing that gave away he was nervous.

“I just wanted to say sorry from earlier.” The Spanish man muttered. I avoided looking at him, if I stared for too long I’d fall in love or a deep hatred all over again for him. Maybe both. I didn’t want to know how his hair was longer, or his smile didn’t blossom so big anymore- the small details like scars, freckles, things that would all come back to me if I looked at him a little too long.

“Why? What-what about earlier?” I stammered.

“I saw you upset. I don’t want to make you upset.” My jaw tensed as I stared down to the floor below. “I- can you look at me?” He attempted to reach forwards, but I took a whole step back.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, Carlos. I can’t.” I responded firmly. “You can’t look at me?” He sounded hurt now, exactly how I’d been feeling all day. For the past six months in fact. Maybe I was being irrational, but it didn’t bother me to care, I felt so humiliated and betrayed by this man, worst of all I still loved him. If I looked back at him I know I’d break down.

“Please.” He lowered his voice, stepping ever so slightly forwards as I felt my eyes prick, my teeth grinding down on a certain point of my cheek to prevent any from falling. “Let me explain, Lila, everything.” His voice was on edge, cracking with each word. There went the tears. I blinked up, rolling my eyes at my pathetic ability to hold any tears away. I wiped at the one that fell quickly. He looked taken back, saddened, just as he was about to reach forwards to console me, I thought, fuck it, what’s the point in holding back now? “Explain what? How you moved on after four fucking weeks Carlos? Or-or why you’re talking to me when your fucking girlfriend is sat in there.” My hand gestured as I spoke harshly. I stared directly back to him, he was shaking his head in rejection of my words and it fired me up almost instantly. “No-”

“Oh, don’t even try to deny it. I saw everything, all the models, all the yachts, were you spiteful of me?? For making the decision to end something that wasn’t fucking leading anywhere?” Maybe that wasn’t so correct, but in my blinded rage I didn’t care, I wanted my words to be as harsh as possible. I wanted to cause maximum disruption the way he’d caused me. Maybe that was the wine talking… or maybe it wasn’t… “No, no.” He shook his head, the frustration growing on his face. “We are not doing this here, bebé.” The accidental pet name flew a dagger directly into my chest, twisting and snagging on my heart the longer I stared back to him.

“I’m not your-” I cut myself off seeing another, oddly familiar face walking around the corner. I was sure she was extremely familiar to Carlos too.

“Carlos… what’s going on?” The English girl questioned, she eyed back to me and in that moment I felt uncomfortably sorrowful for her. She hadn’t exactly done anything wrong.

“I’m just… sorting some things out, I’m sorry, you should go.” He muttered as I cringed for the girl, my stomach churning at the rejection. Although it was deep down what I wanted, that was an extremely spiteful thought of me.

“Okay.” She awkwardly spoke, eyeing me up once more. “I am sorry.” Carlos muttered. “Um… it’s fine.” The poor girl paused for a couple more seconds, obviously contemplating what the hell had just happened. I could only stare at the wall in complete awkwardness, questioning how this could possibly get any worse? Part of me just wanted to walk away, the other part of me physically and emotionally couldn’t. Carlos let out a deep sigh once she’s headed around the corner, away from the two of us. “I had only met her twice.” He spoke, much calmer now. “That was mean.” “I know..” he quietly spoke as a silence took over us when a few more people walked past to go into the toilets.

“Was that who I thought it was?” One girl muttered to her friend, her voice echoing down the hallway. “Should we ask for a picture?”

“Lila, please. Can we go somewhere quieter.” Carlos asked at the perfect time. Hearing the girls turning around I or back up to him, desperate to avoid the eyes of onlooker that could spread dreaded tales around social media. Carlos took me to an empty room upstairs, nobody was there, no staff, nothing. He locked the huge wooden door behind us both as I awkwardly lingered by a table. It must’ve been some kind of function room, a small one that wasn’t in use. I was positive we weren’t allowed up here, but from the looks of things, nobody noticed, and the cameras were all pulled from their hinges, hanging off wires sadly. “I had only met her twice.” Carlos repeated his words from downstairs. I leant back on a table as he stood in front of me, pacing slightly. “And your girlfriend on the yacht?” I stared to the ground below. You could feel the vibrations from the music, and as the clock was striking 9 I slowly lost any desire to be in here.

“Not my girlfriend.” He shook his head. “I needed a- distraction.” He fumbled over his English slightly as my heart swelled. I dragged my nails slightly over the skin in a bid to rid the warm feeling.

“Estaba enojado.” (I was angry). His voice sounded more deflated as he stood still, picking the wood of the table below. “Why?” My voice borderline whispered. “Because…” he began in English again but his voice came to an abrupt stop. “Porque pensé que ya no me amabas.” (Because I thought you did not love me anymore).

It took me a couple seconds to piece the Spanish together. “What does that-” I froze, head tilting up to him. “You didn’t think I loved you anymore?”

Carlos shook his head, tensing his jaw as he stared down to the table below. “So-so you wanted to back at me?” My voice lowered, the anger sizzling out of my body. The thought of him believing I didn’t love him hurt. It made me feel sorrowful, remorseful, and for the first time, understanding of why he did what he did.

Carlos now nodded with a yes and I pushed myself to stand up straighter, so we were a little closer. “I always loved you. I still do.” I watched his movements stop at my admission.

“That’s why it just hurt so bad to- to see them in my place after four weeks.”

“It was 3.” He then commented as I froze again. “3 weeks. If we are being honest.”

A dizziness ran through me, a sickness like no other as I stared back to him now, bottom lip trembling.

“Me convierte en una mala persona.” “Stop with the Spanish, I don’t understand.” My voice trembled as his head snapped up. He always spoke Spanish as a safety barrier, so I couldn’t exactly always tell what he was opening up about, especially when he was nervous. “It makes me a bad person, Lila.” He reached out, smoothing a hand over my cheek. I shook my head as a ‘no’ but he had already began nodding. “Yes.”

I nudged his hand away, my head dropping as I let out as light sob. “No, no, no.” He panicked, “ven aquí.” (Come here). Carlos pulled me into his chest as I attempted to hold back the cries I wanted so desperately to let out.

“No, no, no.” He muttered again, rubbing up and down my bare arm as I took a deep breath, wiping under my eyes carefully. “They didn’t come close.” Carlos then spoke. “They didn’t come close to you. I love you, and always you.” His words festered something deep inside of me, a feeling that I couldn’t control. It was the exact same warmth and comfort I felt around him, the way our soul’s felt connected- it was an irreplaceable feeling to say the least.

“Carlos.” I whispered, turning up as he began using his thumbs to swipe away my tears. “I hate you.” I whispered, the words lacking any sense or meaning as he sadly smiled, running a hand down my hair. “I know.”

“I really hate you.” I pathetically spoke, both his hands holding either side of my face. He looked mesmerised, strands of hair was brushed over my face, his mouth was agape as we both stepped closer.

“I know.” Carlos muttered even quieter, his head dropping as my eyes fell onto his lips. On my toes, I met him half way. I love you… I didn’t know what was happening in that moment, but it was like we automatically met half way, our lips landing on one another’s in a hungry kiss. Our teeth clashed dramatically, body’s bouncing against the tables and chairs behind us, all without breaking apart the kiss.

My hands pulled him closer, desperate to feel him, all of him. One of his hands firmly held the back of my head, the other pulled my waist into his, forcing our bodies tightly together. A desperation inside me mixed with how heated the kiss was had my hands flying towards his belt. “Please. Carlos, please.” I whispered, giving into all attempts of putting a barrier up. I needed him, and he needed me. He let out a slight moan of agreement, refusing to the break the kiss.

I began undoing his belt swiftly, feeling his hands tug up on the short dress I wore as he fell to his knees. My hands disconnected from his belt and held onto the table behind me for stability. My breathing was heavy and laboured, and I couldn’t even think straight as he yanked my underwear down, not even getting them fully off my legs before his mouth attached to my pussy.

“Oh- fuck.” I gasped, eyes rolling back at the pleasurable sensation. His tongue was warm and wet against my core, his fingers tightened around my hips, yanking them up onto the table once he’d freed me from my underwear. I didn’t bother being quiet, the music downstairs would drown out my moans, and I was pretty sure nobody would venture up here anyway.

“Carlos.” I gasped, my fingers tugging on the ends of his long hair, the familiarity driving me insane as I dropped my head back, riding his mouth as he slurped and licked, groaning against my pussy as he pushed his mouth deeper, sucking and nipping.

I let out a cry of pleasure, tugging harshly at his locks until he let out a moan at the pain, breaking apart. He stared at me for a second, a look of complete shock in his eyes. There was a second just of our heavy breathing before he moved back in, pushing my thighs further apart, biting at my flesh, kissing and licking.

“Please.” I begged for nothing in particular. “Please, please.” My head fell up to the wooden roof, my voice barely above a whisper. I felt him move up, the sound of his belt fully unbuckling stirred me again, Carlos tucked his hand, engulfing the back of my head and pushing his forehead against my own.

“Nadie comparado contigo.” (Nobody compared to you). I moaned at the familiarity of his words, feeling the tip of his cock push against my entrance.

“Te amo. te amo.” (I love you. I love you). Carlos filled me up, wiping at the tear stains on my cheeks, lips pressed against to my forehead as his hot breath fanned against my skin. I shuddered at the fullness he made me feel, fingers snatching at the smooth of his shirt, bunching it up as it untucked from his pants below. I kissed him tenderly, feeling the thrusts of his hips begin. Carlos moved closer, nudging his face up against the side of mine, lips brushing against the shell of my ear. With each moan and breath he took, it heightened my own pleasure.

Our breaths and pants mixed together, the table squeaked and scraped on the floor below, Carlos slammed a hand down, groaning as he bit into my shoulder, pushing down the spaghetti straps as I freed my breasts, allowing him to grab a handful. His eyes roamed over my face, my eyes, lips, breasts, where he fucked into me, he was beginning to sweat, moving constantly between kissing me and pulling back to thrust into me faster, harder. I was in intense bliss, my pussy tightened and clenched constantly, with each tension Carlos would groan, gripping onto my arm tighter as he fucked harder into me.

“Fuck me, Carlos- oh my- god!” I whined, hearing him moan properly, his legs hitting against the table causing it to screech harder against the floor. We were loud, animalistic, soon enough, Carlos had spun me around and fucked into me from behind as I grasped onto the table for support.

The press of his cock constantly slamming against my g spot made me yell out in pleasure, breathing harshly. “Quiero que te corras para mi.” He dirty talked, arching over my body to press against my own. His fingers slotted under me, rubbing over my aching clit as I bucked my hips wildly back into his.

“Please, please, Lila.” He begged as I choked out a moan, my eyes screwing tightly shut. He was fucking harshly into me, skin slapping against my own as one of his hand trembled against my shoulder, gripping my harshly. Something about his begs and groans had the knot in my stomach tightening harsher than ever. His fingers worked against my clit, faster and faster as I gasped out loud.

“Oh fuck- Carlos-” I borderline slurred, crying out as I dropped a hand over his fingers, feeling one of his curling over mine. My legs were shaking and I felt paralysed with tension as it took one more thrust before I was tipping over the edge, crying and moaning out, gasping and pleading his name as I came undone, my orgasm paralysing my whole body. My pussy throbbed, his thrusts continuing as Carlos’ groaned became louder. “Cum inside me, I want you inside of me.” I choked out, coming down from my overwhelming orgasm. Carlos’ hand slapped against my ass, gripping me closer as he slammed his hips into mine before letting out a loud growl and unloading his seed inside of me. High on his orgasm, Carlos fell on top of me, panting and moaning as he slowly bucked his hips through the pleasure. I was a gasping, sweating mess, my eyes closed as I rested on my hand which was flat to the table, letting out one last coo of a moan feeling Carlos’ lips press to my upper back.

We remained in that position for a few more moments before my legs began to tremble with the ache of half kneeling on the table, the other supporting me with the tip of my toe touching the floor. My heel had falling off during the love making, so when I stepped down I fell straight onto the cold of my feet. Carlos shifted, lifting his body off me as I turned around, standing up as I brushed my hair down. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, there was an element of shock to the whole situation, it all happened so fast. I bit down on my lip, watching him tug his boxers back over himself and his jeans back up, zipping and doing the button. He paused before he did his belt, glancing back up to me. Carlos reached out, smoothing my hair down on one side with a soft smile. I offered one back, pulling my dress straps back over my shoulders.

Carlos’s eyes dropped to my ribcage before I covered myself with my dress. “New tattoo?” He poked at the skin, “Mmmh. A couple months ago.” I shyly spoke, giggling when he eyed up my breasts slightly.

“Don’t.” I quietly spoke, but it didn’t have much authority behind it. “I have seen it all before.” He turned his head away when I asked him to, fastening his belt.

“Still.” My lips were crooked as I awkwardly searched for my underwear, feeling his seed spill out of me as I grimaced. “Here.” Carlos smiled, handed me the black fabric over, holding it out on his palm when he retrieved it from the floor. Embarrassed, I swiped it from his hold, pulling them on quickly as they caught the liquid that was beginning to seep out of me. I cringed, uncomfortable with the sensation as Carlos let out a small laugh, tucking his shirt back into his pants.

I glanced up, smiling shyly before looking around the room a little awkwardly. “¿Estás bien?” (Are you okay?). “Sí.” I giggled as he let out a closed mouth exhale of laughter, buttoning up his shirt which had popped open previously.

“Are you?”

“Sí.” He nodded, sighing and glancing back to me. “I don’t really hate you.” I muttered after glancing over his face. Carlos hummed in laughter in response, reaching out and swiping his thumbs under my eye. The gentle movement made my heart flutter as I couldn’t help but properly gaze over his face, disbelief setting in as I watched back to my ex boyfriend.

“I don’t.” I shrugged, feeling swipe what must’ve been fallen mascara. His hand rested on my cheek, moving in to kiss me softly as I felt myself swooning even harder. “Will you come with me tomorrow- ah with me to qualifying?” The Spanish man asked.

I felt my chest tighten, I reached out to soften the crease in his white shirt. “You want me to?”

“I want you to.” Carlos seriously nodded as I nodded. “Okay.” I whispered. He smiled again, taking me by the hand and easing me forwards, unlocking the door we locked. We didn’t really acknowledge the fact we’d just fucked like rabbits in such a public area, the two of us escaped the bar, giggling and ignoring the paparazzi. “You come out here with one girl and leave with another.” I kicked his foot, resting my hand over his thigh.

“Don’t say that.” He very quickly spoke, clearly looking a little awkward as we shared a laugh. I leant forwards, kissing his cheek. “Happy birthday, Carlos….”

The whole ‘ex boyfriend’ didn’t last too much longer after that, it was clear to say hooking up in a run down, attic bar magically solved something between Carlos and I…

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz jr smut

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i-write-boop-spoops · 8 months

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Beauty in the morning light - Steven Stone x F!Reader (Smut)

ending this unintentional hiatus with a hearty 1.4k smut fic staring THE silver haired dreamboat himself!

i can't believe this blog has been around for 2+ years and it's only now i write a smutty fic for my rock husband? it's a tragedy, i know. also proofreading? nah, i'mma go to sleep instead.

features: soft smut, f/afab! reader, condom use (stay safe!), cowgirl, p in v sex, oral (f! receiving), steven being very into thighs, very into eating reader out and very into reader in general. no gendered terms are used to refer to reader, but they do have boobs and a vag n all that good stuff.

NSFW below!

You’re so beautiful.

Especially in the cool light of a cloudy morning. The gentle white glow drifting through the mesh curtains highlights the softness of your skin, the gleam in your sleepy eyes, and the shine on your lips as they part to moan his name.

Your movement is slow, languid, you’ve just woken up after all. Up and down, you glide on his length. He relishes in the feeling of your luscious warmth wrapped snugly around him, not just in the very sight of you riding him.

His hands travel your gorgeous figure, fingertips delicately caressing the swell of your breasts, and then down to your soft hips, and finally, your downright exquisite thighs. His hands settle there, squeezing the flesh in a firm, yet gentle manner.

“You’re so beautiful (Name)… so beautiful,” he sighs, before biting his lip, trying to hold back a groan as you sink down on him again.

“Ste-ven,” you protest in a whine, your fingers curling into his chest. You’re more flustered by his earnest compliment than him literally being inside of you. It’s adorable.

“But you are…” he insists, feeling himself getting close. “You are… oh, arceus, you are.”

You press your lips to his, as if to shut him up, he doesn’t complain, no, not one bit. Your lips move with passion against his, and he responds in equal measure, tangling the fingers of one hand in your hair while the other stays caressing your soft thigh.

Your hands push him against the mound of pillows he’s laying against, your tongue always quick and needy, is already in his mouth, eliciting sounds out of him only you get to hear. You keep your hips moving, at that slow, tantalising, pace, making him fit to blow at any moment.

He pulls away just before it hits. He wants to see you, your beautiful face, your gorgeous body, in the morning light, as he finishes.

There it is, that immense, immaculate wave of pleasure. He catches a glimpse of you before he closes his eyes, and moans for you, thrusting upwards and fingers digging in the flesh of your hips, he hopes he doesn’t cause any harm. He releases into the condom, and you let him rest inside you for a few moments before you pull off. Your absence is sorely evident.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, and you just laugh and pat his shoulder. “Anytime Stevie,” you coo as you settle on the bed next to him.

After a minute or two, when enough of that delectable afterglow fades, he peels himself from the bed, and disposes of the condom in the nearby trashcan.

He turns around and finds you draped across the bed, above the covers, head supported by your elbow. You look like a boudoir model… he’s so lucky to have you.

“Let me repay you for that,” he insists as he puts his knee on the mattress, his hands immediately on your thighs again.

“Steven…” you sigh, protesting him again. He put his hands either side of you, bringing himself on top of you. “Please?” he asks, with soft, hopeful eyes and his voice teetering on begging.

You roll your eyes and sigh again. Gotcha.

“Okay Stevie.”

He can’t hide his smile, not one bit. He pecks your lips in thanks before moving down your body. He caresses your thighs lovingly as he props them on his shoulders. He adores them, so soft and supple and sexy, the prefect pillows.

Faced with your weeping heat now, he takes a shaky breath, inhaling your intoxicating scent, before flicking his tongue out to taste you.

You’re so sweet.

Gripping your soft thighs a little tighter, he pulls you close, practically burying himself between your legs. His face is enveloped by your warmth, and it’s tantamount to heaven.

You’re wet from earlier, still needy, folds nice and slick and swollen. He forgets himself and starts to lap you up with tactless abandon. He hasn’t had breakfast yet, after all.

You cry out, fingers immediately in his hair, and tugging it. The sound of your moans is music to his ears, and he longs to hear endless encores.

He finds your clit, and kisses it, feeling you jolt against him. He kisses it again, and again, before letting his tongue slowly swirl around it, before dipping down to slip the muscle inside you.

Oh, you taste so sweet, like honey. He moans into you, tongue still inside, and the vibrations make you shake. His fingers curl against the tender skin of your thighs as he starts lapping at you again, mouth moving upward until he’s swiping at your clit with the full breadth of his tongue.

“Steven… Steven…” you practically sing between shuddering breaths, the grip you have on his hair is almost painful now, but he likes it that way. He knows you need a bit more, and he is beyond willing to oblige you.

But first, he has to indulge himself a little, doesn’t he? He presses tender kisses along your plush inner thigh, you whine softly in response, hips bucking just so. “Goodness, you’re so beautiful (Name)…” her murmurs against your sensitive skin. He’s not even sure if you heard him, and by your lack of protests, you probably didn’t.

His kisses your clit again before flicking it with his tongue, and then he lets his lips latch around it. You inhale, and the moment you do, he starts to suck.

Gently, gently now, that’s all you need. He knows you by now, knows what your soft cries and jutting hips signal, and he’s excited to bring you there. He sucks for a bit, then laps away your wetness, returning to your clit. You taste so good, he wants to have more of you.

And he will, very soon. You practically jam his face into your vulva, desperate for that extra push to bring you over the edge. He starts to suck your clit a little harder now, stop only to play with it gently.

It works, only a few seconds of that and he feels you gush and twitch and shudder against his face, perfect thighs squeezing his cheeks and muffling that shameless moan that tumbles from your lips. He guides you through that exquisite wave, licking up all that you give him, and savouring it with a hum.

He doesn’t want to leave this paradise just yet, the soft, warm flesh on his cheeks, the taste of you, but you tug on his hair, urging him to come face you.

You can’t blame him for taking his time leaving your heat. The air in the room seems infinitely colder against his cheeks, his lower face wet from your juices. He plucks a tissue from the bedside table and wipes it away, not before licking his lips of course. You laugh at him drying his face.

What? He was raised to be a gentleman.

You slink your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. You’re so sweet and soft and warm, in no time he has his arms around your waist, embracing you back.

All of a sudden, your lips are on his, and your tongue is snaking its way into his mouth. His eyes widen, he hadn’t expected a kiss, especially one filled with tongue, after going down on you, but he supposes that’s just who you are. Flustered by his love maybe, but ashamed? Never.

His kisses you back, moaning softly, attempting to meet your voracity but not quite reaching it, maybe you’re just more awake than him.

You barely part for a moment before he pecks your lips again, his grin satisfied and lazy, much like yours. He gazes at you as you catch your breath, at your messy hair, swollen lips, glistening skin, eyes glazed with pleasure. You look like fine art, finer than that even.

He takes a breath, as if to gasp in awe of you. How perfect you are like this, tired, and sated, and happy. He has to say it, doesn’t he?

“You know… you look even more beautiful after you orgasm.”

“Steven!”

And there you go again, getting all flustered by his sincere flattery. Little do you know; it makes you all the more gorgeous and endearing to him.

He doesn’t insist this time though, he’s been selfish about that all morning. You know he thinks you’re the most beautiful, precious thing in the universe, more captivating than the most sparkling of diamonds and the most twinkling of night skies. And as much as he loves to remind you of that, he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, at least not right now.

“Well, my dear… shall we stay in bed a little while longer?” he suggests, tone smooth and playful. You squeal and laugh and pull him under the covers, no doubt for another round of pleasure.

#steven stone thirst #steven stone x reader #tsuwabuki daigo x reader #steven stone #steven pokemon #steven pokemon x reader #champion steven #champion steven x reader #daigo tsuwabuki #silver haired dreamboat

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multimilfs · 1 year

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Stella of Solaria x Fem!Reader: Parting Ways

Summary: Stella + 3 — “I almost lost you.”

Prompts found here!

A/N: I’ve never written for Stella before so this was interesting!! Also I haven’t seen the newest season since I heard what happens to Farah so if it feels like I’m missing information/characterization, that’s why

Full Ficmas List

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld @multifandomfix

Warning(s): None

Stella once told you she had to be powerful at any cost.

The words were an echo of her Mother, then. But the more she repeated it, the less it sounded like Luna. The quest for power and control became less of a chore and more a race. The only problem is she’s the only one racing.

As awful as it may have been, it didn’t bother you how she lashed out at others; not in the beginning, at least. You were so infatuated with her that you would turn a blind eye to anything.

Then you were in love with her and you couldn’t stand by it anymore.

The awful thing about love is that at times it offers more clarity than you want. And the clarity forced you to see that as awful as Stella treats others, she treats herself ten times worse.

“I can’t do this anymore, Stel.” You whisper.

Stella pauses mid-rant and stares at you. You force yourself to look in her eyes, to see the pain there. It takes all of your strength not to back-pedal. You can’t, though, not anymore.

“What?” She stares at you in disbelief.

“I can’t sit here and watch you become someone you’re not.” You say, stronger this time.

You watch as her face crumbles. Tears well in her eyes and she stares down at the desk, avoiding eye contact. She looks utterly hopeless. It feels like someone has stabbed you, but you’re the one twisting the knife.

Then it all changes in a snap.

Stella melts away. Her eyes dry up and she straightens her posture. The set of her jaw is tense when she pierces you with her eyes. You watch as she clenches her fists at her sides.

Stella stands slowly, gritting her teeth, “Someone I’m not? I’ve always been this way. You knew that.”

“No,” You shake your head, “I know a girl who is too scared of her Mother to fight back, who scoffed at everything her Mother tried to force into her brain. Now all I see is someone who’ll hate herself if it means impressing her.”

“What do you expect me to do?!”

“Find your power without treating yourself the way she does!”

Both of you pause and stare at one another. Neither of you have ever raised your voice, not in a negative way. It feels awful.

Stella looks almost relieved; Luna is quiet with her anger, a whisper in a room of screams. She’s always been far too good at channeling her rage into tearing her daughter down. Your stomach twists, wondering if you’re doing the same somehow.

You can’t stay here. It’s too easy to give in and take all of your words back just to keep that look from Stella’s eyes. Every part of you wants to hold her and apologize and never let go. The longer you stand in the room, watching her, analyzing every detail on her face, the closer you are to breaking.

“I’m sorry, Stella.”

Turning on your heel, you leave the room. You ignore Stella calling after you.

After that night, nothing really changes. You go to your classes and learn all you can. All of it’s just harder than before when your now-ex lurks around every corner. Stella is everywhere and seeing her is like reliving the moment all over again.

The worst are the classes you share. Stella is nothing but a model student, but she falters whenever she looks at you. You pretend not to notice. You keep your head down and ignore everything people whisper about your failed relationship. Beatrix tries to pull catty answers from you on more than one occasion, but you just walk away.

You love Stella. You don’t love how she treats herself or what she does to make herself powerful, but you’ll do whatever you can to keep from humiliating her.

But as weeks pass and things change around the school, living becomes a little easier.

It doesn’t crush your heart to see Stella in the halls anymore. Granted, it still hurts, just… less. Fairies stop pressing you for answers and whispering about what could have possibly changed. Things seem to settle.

“Hey,” You look up when there’s a knock on your door, surprised to see Bloom there, “Are you busy?”

“No more than usual. What’s up?” You ask.

Bloom looks around, shoving her hands into her back pockets. She chews at her lip nervously. You offer a reassuring smile and that gets her moving; she steps into the room and closes the door behind her.

You forget about the unwritten paper on your desk and wait. Bloom rarely hesitates when she has something important to say. Worry is building in your gut, but you think if you say something it might break the Fire Fairy’s resolve, and that’s the last thing you want.

She sits on the edge of your bed and plays with her hands, “Look, I don’t need to know what happened with you and Stella, but… She’s not doing very well.”

“I can’t control Stella’s emotions, Bloom.”

“I know that,” She says defensively, then softens, “but maybe you could talk to her, at least?”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea for either of us. I know you mean well, but this is something Stella has to figure out without me.”

“She’s going to leave. Her Mother is coming soon to pick her up.”

You pale, “What?”

“Yeah, Queen Luna’s supposed to be here—”

There’s a scuffle outside in the hall. Your heart drops as you hear whispered voices, the other fairies rushing down the hall. You and Bloom make eye contact.

“Now.” You finish.

Bloom nods, “Yeah.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

You let her leave and attempt to make yourself presentable before following the crowd. Professor Silva and Headmistress Dowling are trying to keep everyone away from the doors while the Queen’s car pulls up to the entrance. You weave through the crowds to grab Stella before she walks outside to greet her, dressed regally, and looking entirely unsure of herself.

Stella tenses when you grab her hand. When she turns, her posture is still tense, but the surprise fades away. You try to smile.

“I know I don’t have a right to say anything to you, but this isn’t what I wanted,” You whisper, “Please don’t leave, Stel.”

She doesn’t say anything. Her eyes look at you for a long moment and then she squeezes your hand. When you let go, she disappears through the doors to greet her Mother. Your chest aches with the feeling that you’ve lost her.

Ignoring the stares of the other fairies, you don’t stick around to get a glimpse of Queen Luna. You’ve heard enough about her to last several lifetimes. If you see her, you fear you’ll do or say something you can’t come back from.

The silence of your room both comforts and infuriates you. Stella is leaving and you sit, powerless to stop her. You thought ending things would make her see the error of her ways, but all it did was make you both miserable.

Time passes slowly until there’s a knock on your door.

You rip the door open, heart in your throat, hoping it’s Stella. And there she is. Hands folded awkwardly in front of her, she offers a wavering smile.

“Can I come in—” She asks, but is cut off when you wrap her in your arms.

Slowly, her arms wrap back around you. Her hands clutch at you like you’ll slip away if she doesn’t. It brings tears to your eyes; you were so close to losing her forever. If her Mother had taken her back to the castle… you can’t bear to think about never seeing her again.

“I almost lost you.” You whisper.

“You’ll never lose me,” Stella says, holding you tighter, “I promise.”

#stella of solaria #stella winx #stella of solaria x reader #fate:the winx saga x reader #fate: the winx saga #stella of solaria imagine #fate: the winx saga imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #dec2022 #multimilfswritings #multimilfsficmas2022

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omgkatherine01 · 1 year

Text

The Sun in the Dragon House - Chapter 9 - Betrothal

Series Masterlist

Chapter 8, Chapter 10

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader & Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader & Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader

Please comment, like and share ❤

The Queen rushed toward Vera's new chambers with Lyla, Talya and Criston after Lyla had informed the Queen quietly that Vera had finally bled, but the now 13 year old girl was panicking because of the blood.

The Queen glanced to Criston when they reached the chamber door, "Ser Criston, better let us women handle this." She, Talya and Lyla walked inside to see Vera had changed her nightgown to a purple dress by herself.

The Queen looked to the bed and saw blood stain. She looked at Lyla, "Lyla, please change the sheets." Lyla nodded and bowed, "Yes, Your Grace."

The Queen turned to Vera, "Oh, sweetheart, come here." She led Vera to the couch and they sat down, and she looked at Talya, "Bring us some tea and Lady Vera's favorite cake." Talya nodded and bowed, "Yes, Your Grace."

"What will happen now?" Vera asked quietly her mother figure when they were left alone.

"Everything is going to be alright," the Queen said, "It was meant to happen sooner or later. After you receive your first moon-blood, it will be happening every moon. You are a woman now."

"So I will bleed every moon from now on?" Vera asked, and the Queen nodded. She brushed Vera's hair from the side of her face, "But because you now bleed, that means you can have children of your own when you'll grow a little more."

Vera's eyes darted to her and then down to the floor. "I'll find you a suitable husband once I'll get through your father," the Queen assured.

Vera looked at her, "You don't have to, Your Grace."

"You do not wish to marry?" the Queen asked as she tilted her head.

Vera hesitated, she did, but it was with someone who she didn't think she could be married to... She looked at the Queen, "If I will be married to someone who isn't from here... I will have to leave. And I don't want to leave you, or my father, and the Princess and the Princes."

Lyla returned to change the sheets, and Talya had brought tea and cake. The Queen looked at Vera as the girl looked down as she stared at the floor with sadness.

The door swung open and Aemond walked in. "Aemond," the Queen slightly scolded. "Apology mother," he said. His eye darted from his mother to Vera, "Ser Criston is outside and worried. So I thought I will come in to see if everything was alright."

Vera nodded slightly and smiled a small sad smile, "Everything is alright." Aemond clearly saw through her and looked at his mother.

The Queen looked from her to her son; Vera had hardly left Aemond's side really since the accident, and the two of them been closer than ever. And she knew of the growing attraction between the two since than.

----

"What is it?" the King asked, coughing into his napkin. He was sitting on his bed with the Hand, the Queen in front of him. Aemond was behind them, looking at the model of King's Landing.

"It's about Prince Aemond's betrothal," Otto spoke. Aemond looked at them, he clearly didn't want to speak about it, or even hear about his duty to wed someone for high born house. He was annoyed that his mother wanted him there at this moment.

The King looked at the Hand and the Queen, "Very well. Have you thought of someone?" The Queen nodded, "Yes. We have someone in mind for quite a while."

"And who is this Lady?"

"Lady Vera," Otto answered. Aemond's annoyed look disappeared as he stared between his grandsire and his mother.

The King raised his eyebrows, "Ser Criston's daughter?"

"She is my ward, and she is now at the age to be betrothed," the Queen reminded him, "Aemond is the right choice for that. And she is the right choice for him." The King opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him, "I wish for them to be wed after Vera will turn 15."

"I have no ill feelings for Lady Vera Cole, but we need someone from a high born house to--" the King started. Aemond stepped between his grandsire and his mother as he looked at the King, "I don't want someone else." They looked at him, surprised at him cutting into his father's words.

"If I have to be wed, I want Vera," he said, "It is the least you could do for me after you let your grandson get away for scarring me." The King looked at him for a moment before letting out a breath.

He nodded, "Alright."

----

Vera was sitting on her bed when the Queen and her father walked in. Vera got up and bowed, "Your Grace."

"Come, sit," the Queen said with a smile. Criston sat on the chair in front of the bed while Vera and the Queen sat on the bed. "Your father and I, we have some news that I am sure will be good for you."

"What is it?" Vera asked as she looked between them.

"The Hand and the Queen spoke to the King about a betrothal... between you and Prince Aemond," Criston said.

Vera looked surprised and looked at the Queen. "My son said he wants to be betrothed to you. And the King agreed," the woman said and raised her eyebrows with a small smile, "Is this something you would want to as well?"

Vera nodded slowly, "Yes, Your Grace." The Queen's smile turned bigger and she nodded, "All right then. I have asked for your wedding to be after your 15 name day." Vera glanced at her father before at the Queen, and nodded, "All right. Thank you, Your Grace." The Queen smiled at her fondly and nodded lightly.

Her father and the Queen left Vera alone after that, and she walked to courtyard of the Dragonpit with Ser Cedric, where she knew Aemond was since his dragon was resting there and not inside. He was in front of Vhagar, petting her softly before she moved her head to the girl approaching them.

Aemond followed her gaze and smiled softly, "I think it's the first time you approaching her." Vera smiled softly and her eyes darted from him to his dragon. He stepped closer to her and took her hand before leading her closer to Vhagar, "Come. She won't hurt you."

Vhagar was still as Aemond slowly placed Vera's hand on her scales, his hand on top of hers. Vera let out a breath she didn't realized she was holding and looked up at the dragon as she watched them.

Vhagar stared at them, with her bond with her rider, she knew he had feeling for the girl for a long time. "Still afraid to ride her?" Aemond asked softly. Vera shrugged, "A little."

"Shame, I was hoping to show you something," Aemond said. "What is it?" Vera asked. "I can't tell," Aemond said with a small smirk, "You have to fly with me to see it."

Vera hesitated and looked back at the dragon. She looked at Aemond as he grabbed the ropes, "I dare you to climb," he said with an amused smile. Vera looked from him to the ropes. She took a breath and grabbed the ropes, and pulled herself up the large dragon.

Aemond smiled and when she reached to the top, he climbed up after her. He got on top of Vhagar and settled on the saddle in front of Vera with her after making sure she was well strapped.

Vera wrapped her arms around his wrist tightly as Vhagar started to take off flying. Vera closed her eyes for a moment as she leaned her head on his back. But then she opened her eyes and moved her eyes down to look at the city below.

Vera let a smile slip on her lips as she looked around at the King's Landing below her. The city slowly disappeared as they flew above the sea.

Vera didn't knew exactly where they were heading but not long after, she saw them flying toward a small Island. Vhagar flew above it, and soon enough landed on the sand.

Aemond helped Vera get down, and the girl looked around. She spotted farther up the Island a field with flowers, and started to walk toward it. Aemond watched her go and smiled a little.

Vhagar lowered her head and pushed Aemond from behind him forward to follow the girl. Aemond glanced over his shoulder at her and then turned to follow Vera.

Vera looked around at the many flowers with a smile and turned to Aemond as he approached, "Is this what you wanted to show me?" she asked.

"It's one of them, the second thing I wanted to show will have to be when it will get dark," Aemond said. Vera opened her mouth but he stopped her, "My mother knows, and your father does too. I was planning on asking you to come with me a little later, but I guess we'll be here a little longer."

Vera smiled softly and sat down on the soft grass. He sat down next to her where they faced the ocean. "Have my mother spoken to you then?" he asked. He sounded confident but deep down he was nervous of her answer.

"About our betrothal?" Vera asked, "Yes."

Aemond nodded, "Have you...?" Vera looked down at the grass with a small smile, "I said I'm alright with it." She looked at him, "And I am."

Aemond nodded lightly and smiled a little as he looked back at the ocean. Vera looked down but then back at him nervously, "Did you really said you want to have me as your wife?"

He looked at her, "Well, I said if I have to be married, I want you and not someone else." Vera blushed as she looked away and nodded. "I suppose I am the better choice," she joked, and he chuckled.

"Yes, much better," he agreed, and she smiled as she looked down. She looked back at his face and her eyes darted to the eyepatch. She slowly reached to it and slowly took it off as he closed both his eyes. "You forget I don't like seen you wearing it," she said softly.

Aemond smiled softly as he opened both his eyes. The beautiful sapphire that she gifted him two weeks after the horrible event, was used as the eye he lost, and she loved to see it there. She hated to see him covering his sapphire when he wore it so well.

Even before that, she didn't like that he covered his scar when they were alone, so she sometimes reminded him to take it off when they were alone, and sometimes he does it by himself without her telling him that.

Vera noticed a little change in him after his 13 name day. He flushed when he saw her the day after, and when she tried to get him to speak to her about it, he refused. Whatever it was, Aegon knew it, but he didn't answer her questions about it, so she dropped it.

Vera was broken from her thoughts when Aemond placed a flower on top of her ear. She blushed brightly on that and smiled shyly as she quickly looked at the ocean.

----

The sun had settled while Vera and Aemond continued talking and watching the sun set. As the moon rose, Aemond stood up as he looked at her, "Come."

He took her hand and helped her stand up. He led her toward the sand and closer to the water. "Watch it," Aemond said softly as he nodded to the moon. The reflection of the moon was shown on the water as the waves softly moved.

Vera smiled as she watched the water sparkling. Aemond looked at her, "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she said, "I love it." Aemond smiled. "Who told you to bring me here?" she teased.

Aemond scoffed, hearing her teasing in her voice, "No one. It was my idea." There was a grunt not far from them. "And Vhagar, I guess."

Vera giggled as she looked at the dragon, who looked away with satisfaction. Aemond and Vera sat down on the sand, looking back at the moon.

Vera looked at Aemond, "Thank you for bringing me here."

"If you want..." Aemond trailed off, "We could come here more often... especially when the moon rises."

Vera smiled and nodded, "I would love it."

Aemond nodded lightly with a small smile, "All right then." He stared at her while she looked back at the water, watching the reflection of the moon. She felt his gaze and looked at him with a small smile, "What?"

He looked down, "Sorry," he muttered.

Vera chuckled and glanced down before back at his face. "Your mother wants us to be wed after my 15 name day... are you alright with it?"

Aemond looked at her and nodded, "Yes. Are you?"

Vera shrugged lightly but then nodded, "Yes. I suppose I was to be expected to be wed at that age. So do you."

"It doesn't have to be," Aemond said, "We can speak to my mother about keeping us betrothed a little more longer. And marry us when we'll be older."

"I would have asked for that," Vera agreed with a nod, but she glanced down shyly, "If it wasn't with you." She looked at him. "So there's no need to do that, I think I waited long enough for this."

Aemond's eyebrows rose in surprise, "So, you were hoping for us to be betrothed as well?"

Vera smiled teasingly, "Perhaps." She trailed her fingers on his scar, which Aemond already knew she loved to do so, and he had no complains since he loved to feel her fingers on his skin. Vera moved her hand away, and Aemond took this chance.

He leaned closer and pressed his lips against hers for a moment. He pulled away softly, only for Vera dazedly chased his lips. Vera blinked, blushing brightly.

"I--" Aemond started but Vera didn't let him speak. She grew courage just like he did, and leaned closer to press her lips against his.

Taglist:

@thenovelcarnival, @mynameisbaby9, @carriellie, @parizparis, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @daddysfavoritesexkitten, @uselessbutinteresting, @hc-geralt-23, @babyblue-chaos, @azaleapotterblack, @hydrationqueensworld, @firefirevampire, @burningshewolf

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piizunn · 1 year

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fur, money, adventure: mechanisms of colonialism and survivance

riel ✰ | march, 2023

“Of all the things on earth, the motherland is the most important

and sacred to us because we inherited it from our ancestors,”

- Louis Riel

Fig. 1, Wilson. I. Former Jean Caron Sr. House, Batoche Saskatchewan. Image courtesy of I. Wilson and Parks Canada

I am Red River Métis, descending maternally from historic Métis families by the names of Berthelet, Caron, Ste. Germain, Larivière, Dazè, Dubois, and Boudreau; we come from the Red River Settlement in Manitoba and Batoche, Saskatchewan. My Berthelet family members were employees of the North-West Company and community leaders in the town of Pointe à Grouette, now Ste. Agathe (St. Onge). My fifth great uncle Jean Caron Sr. fought in the Battle of Duck Lake of the North-West Resistance of 1885, with his sons and under the command of Gabriel Dumont, Jean Caron Sr’s house still stands in Batoche to this day (fig. 1). I introduce myself in this way, the traditional way of the Métis to situate myself on this land and contextualise my knowledge and experiences.

My practice serves to counter the settler-colonial understanding of Métis people and our history and establish us as a people who have been practising survivance for generations. With the help of aesthetics of survivance I oppose mechanisms of colonialism; aesthetics including the Hudson’s Bay Company’s bloody legacy, the monuments and public art installed throughout Calgary, the suburban cowboys that come out of hiding in their McMansions on the outskirts of the city, riding their steel steeds, raised trucks, to the summer Stampede. The aesthetics of survivance are “[...]more than survival, more than endurance, or mere response, [...] stories of survivance are the creases of sovereignty,” (Vizenor, 15). In her 2019 book The North-West is Our Mother by Jean Teillet, the author compares the birth of the Métis Nation to human birth; messy, bloody, painful. Our history is vastly complex and controversial in the eyes of the average Canadian settler today. It is a history that makes settlers uncomfortable, confused, sometimes defensive and angry in response to lack of knowledge and this ignorance is often no fault of their own. Canada has a carefully curated canon of history that we are all spoon-fed in school until given the chance to learn the other sides of this history, to think critically and hear stories of survivance.

Fig. 2, The Bay “Shopping is Good” advertisement, 2000. Courtesy of the HBC History Foundation

Countering aesthetics of survivance, The Hudson’s Company has developed their own aesthetics of colonialism. “Fur! Money! Adventure! That [is] what the Hudson’s Bay Company territory had to offer Englishmen and Canadians three hundred years ago,” (Sealy, 1). From the very beginning of the point blanket, with its iconic stripes on white wool, traded for a single beaver pelt to an advertisement from the year 2000 (fig. 2). An image of a nuclear family wearing matching white outfits in a clean white room. Everything accented with green, red, yellow, and indigo stripes, down to the scarf that the grandmother is knitting, referencing the histories of trade and handmade goods long abandoned by the HBC in favour of their modern department store model and multiple aesthetic rebrands throughout the years after the industrial revolution (Toneguzzi). The advertisement simply states, “Shopping is Good, Toronto”. Pro pelle cuttem, a pelt for a skin, a skin for a skin.

Fig. 3, Starr, Riel. Image of the original HBC logo, downtown Calgary. Image courtesy of the artist.

The HBC shield on a building in downtown Calgary (fig. 3) is a grim reminder of the bloody birth of this country, laughing in my face. As Billy Ray Belcourt puts it: “Canada is still in the business of gunning down NDNs. […] Despite the stories of progress and equality at the core of Canada’s national identity, a long tradition of brutality and negligence is what constitutes kinship for the nation of citizens sat atop the lands of older, more storied ones. […] What I can do is love as though it will rupture the singularity of Canadian cruelty.” (Belcourt, 5)

Fig. 4, 5, Starr, Riel. Otipemisiwak Fantasy Husband, 2022. Courtesy of the artist.

A Spectacle of Me for You: Otipemisiwak Fantasy (2022-present) is an ongoing body of work that explores the Métis identity through a modern and Indigiqueer lens, and through humour and the NDN belly laugh (Whitehead). The work consists of a series of photographs of myself wearing a costume I created using a combination of found and handmade garments. In the photographs from 2022 titled Otipemisiwak Fantasy Husband, (figs. 4 and 5) which have been printed in the form of stickers and two different postcard designs, the character Otipemisiwak Fantasy Husband (OFH), the masked trickster, poses with wood leftover from building a Red River cart in 2022. The aesthetics of survivance often incorporate embodying the skewed image that settlers have of the savage Indian, over exaggerating it so that that the joke remains in our own hands, and we can laugh at the ignorant moniyaw. In these photographs OFH is wearing a red and black lumberjack flannel over a red shirt with a black graphic of Louis Riel’s Face and white text that reads “Keeping’ it Riel,”. Around his waist is a ceinture fléchée, and a beaded leather strap on harness worn over brown dress pants. On his head is a latex mask of Louis Riel, his skin is placid and his features cartoonish, in the style of the masks of American presidents used in the 1991 film Point Break (directed by Katherine Bigelow) (fig. 6).

Fig. 6, Patrick Swayze, James Le Gros, Bojesse Christopher, and John Philbin in Point Break (1991), dir. Katheryn Bigelow. Image courtesy of Twentieth-Century Fox.

This work explores the aestheticization of colonialism through these political figures and latex masks which can be attributed to the abstraction of the real person from their caricature in history and in the cultural zeitgeist. One postcard design contains a full body shot of the character in a comically dominant pose with a log positioned suggestively between his legs, standing in for the strap on harness’s missing toy. The second design is a close-up shot of the character’s pelvis, the strap on harness visible with his thumbs hooked casually on the straps.

Referencing other Indigenous artistic personas such as Adrian Stimson’s “Buffalo Boy” and Lori Blondeau’s “Belle Sauvage” (fig. 7), my artwork including OFH satirises the settler-colonial understandings of Louis Riel as a violent traitor to the government by pointing to the ways his story has grown into a mythology of sorts in the eyes of Canadians in a similar manner to other related figures like the former presidents represented in Point Break.

Fig. 7, Stimson, Adrian; Blondeau, Lori. Belle and Boy’s Savage Buffalo Happy Hour. Image courtesy of Adrian Stimson and Lori Blondeau.

Like Stimson’s Buffalo Boy, my character represents an exaggerated Métis identity in order to “[…] camp up colonialism, sexuality, and authenticity,” embodying the trickster archetype like Buffalo Boy in the words of Stimson, “he’s campy, ridiculous, and absurd, but he is also a storyteller, who exposes cultural and societal truths,” (Rice, Taunton, Stimson). OFH mimics the over-sexualized settler-colonial perception of Indigenous masculinity, sexuality, and queerness and is an exploration of the ways in which my identity is tokenized: sexually, spiritually, academically, and culturally.

A Spectacle of Me for You: Otipemisiwak Fantasy is a way of participating in the phenomenon within contemporary Métis art of Louis Riel related kitsch objects that flood markets across the Métis homeland. Alongside and juxtaposing red and white Canadian kitsch that litters tourists' traps and contemporary art galleries across this land, appears the stoic face Louis Riel, gazing out at the country that has developed since his murder in 1885. As Marilyn Dumont puts it: “Riel is dead, but he just keeps coming back,” (70) Contemporary artists like Jessie Ray Short embody Louis Riel by taking on his likeness as a costume. The short film Wake up! (2015) (fig. 8) is a queering of this popular trend.

Fig. 8, Short, Jessie Ray, still from Wake Up!, 2015, video with sound, 5:58 min. Courtesy of the Artist, via Mount Pleasant Community Art Screen

The artist, transforms herself into Louis Riel by applying facial hair, a wig, and clothing to mimic the most famous portrait of Riel in a drag-esque performance. The work asks, “How do you explain a culture in small talk?” and is an example of the “re-examining the cultural significance of Louis Riel [that] allows us to consider the ways in which we can question representation while still respecting the importance this history holds.” (Junker)

Fig. 9 (left), Danger, Dayna. Digital print of Adrienne Dagger, wearing one of Dayna Danger's fetish mask. Image courtesy of the artist and CBC news.

Fig. 10 (right), Danger, Dayna. Big’Uns: Adrienne, 2017. Courtesy of the artist’s website.

The beaded strap-on worn over the pants and the explicit nature of the posing is in reference to Dayna Danger’s Big’Uns (2017) (fig. 10) series, as well as their series of beaded fetish masks for their emphasis on material and process (fig. 9). The result is what Danger refers to as “the most Native BDSM thing ever,” to wrap yourself in beads. Like Danger’s beaded mask project, the Otipemisiwak Fantasy Husband persona came about partly out of a joke, the desire to make something humorous and sexy. Being queered by my Indigeneity, my sexuality, and gender, I consider Sara Ahmed’s words from the introduction of her book Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others,

“A queer phenomenology, perhaps, might start by redirecting our attention toward different objects, those that are “less proximate” or even those that deviate or are deviant. And yet, I would not say that a queer phenomenology would simply be a matter of generating queer objects,”

The emphasis on the strap-on harness points to a specific queer object with cultural associations within the concept of queer phenomenology and orientations. It functions not only as a deviant object or a queer object but also an Indigiqueer “orientation device,” (Ahmed, 3).

Fig. 11, Starr, Riel. Spread from Reading Marilyn Dumont to A Railway Berm, 2023. Image courtesy of the artist.

The most recent work in A Spectacle of Me for You: Otipemisiwak Fantasy is a performance titled Reading Marilyn Dumont to A Railway Berm (2023) in which OFH, sporting a new fringed leather jacket and matching tan suede Manitobah Mukluks reads poetry by Métis poet, author, and academic Marilyn Dumont to the dismantled railway that once entered the former Fort Calgary. The title of the poem is A Letter to John A. MacDonald and the author directly addresses the first prime minister and informs him of his failed railroad project. In addition to the Louis Riel mask, I had also begun the process of making a mask in the image of John A. MacDonald but had not found a use for it until reading the poem by Dumont. The performance is documented in the form of a hand-bound zine using imitation sinew, with photo documentation of the performance of reading to the railroad and John A. as well as the action of “scalping” the John A. mask to remove it from the base. This is contrasted with documentation of the site using both historical and modern images taken during the performance and sourced from the museum of Fort Calgary’s website (fig. 11).

Fig. 12, Starr, Riel. Prairie Vessel, 2022. Image courtesy of the artist.

Prairie Vessel (2022) (fig. 12) is an exploration of Métis aesthetics of survivance, specifically the Red River Cart and its material and physical qualities, as well as its history and symbolism in our culture. The Red River Cart is represented in the contemporary Métis Nation of Alberta and Manitoba Métis Federation logos, the cart being revered as an important symbol of survivance to our people. Historically the carts were built without the use of standardised measurement or plans, however there were two defining design features common to all Red River carts; their two wheels and lack of any metal joinery, only using wood and rawhide in their construction. The research for this piece included scouring online databases like the Louis Riel Institute and the Gabriel Dumont Institute in order to find any sort of construction plans for the carts. George Fayant is one of the few Métis makers with this skill, and has been building them for over two decades, since 1998 (Patterson). Prairie Vessel (2022) is a study of Métis material culture out of the need to preserve a lesser-known art form, and to practise survivance both personally and for my people so that I may keep knowledge and ways of making beyond alive, to keep them thriving in the spirits of my ancestors and all living Métis.

I am just one Halfbreed, but I am still Halfbreed. My ancestors' spiritual and genetic material makes up my personhood and part of that personhood is in all Métis. I do not yet know who I am to my people, but I carry an important name and an old spirit. I would like to be a trickster, “lotta raven in that one,” they’ll say (Maracle, 19). I would like to be like old James Bird Jr., trickster, trader, smart as a whip, a deadly sense of humour, and mean to missionaries. Wiisakayachack, Nanabush, Bluejay, Raven, Coyote, Li P’tchi Mond, Chi Jean, James Bird Jr., I long to be a chakapish.

Works Cited

Ahmed, Sara. Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others. Duke University Press, 2006.

Barkwell, Lawrence. Métis Mythology and Folklore: Mythological figures. Métis Museum, Louis Riel Institute.

Belcourt, Billy-Ray, et al. A History of My Brief Body. Two Dollar Radio, 2020.

Bigelow, Katheryn. Point Break. Twentieth Century Fox, 1991.

Danger, Dayna. “The most Native BDSM thing ever”: Dayna Danger’s Fetish Masks Challenge Indigenous Sexuality Taboos. CBC Radio, 2018.

Danger, Dayna. Big’Uns: Adrienne. The Resilience Project, 2017.

Dumont, Marilyn. A Really Good Brown Girl. Brick Books, 1996.

The Hudson’s Bay Company History Foundation. The Bay, “Shopping is Good” advertisement, 2000.

Junker, Jocelyn. Capture Photo Festival: Jessie Ray Short’s Wake Up! (2015), 2022.

Maracle, Lee. A Really Good Brown Girl: Introduction. Brick Books, 2019.

Patterson, Dayne. Red River cart unveiled at U of S celebrates Métis presence on campus. CBC News, 2022.

Rice, Ryan, and Carla Taunton. “Buffalo Boy: Then and Now.” Fuse Magazine, vol. 32, no. 2, 2009, pp. 18–25.

Sealey, D. Bruce. Stories of the Métis /. Manitoba Metis Federation Press, pg. 1, 1973.

Short, Jessie Ray. Wake Up!, 2015. Mount Pleasant Community Art Screen, 2022.

Stimson, Adrian, “Buffalo Boy: Then and Now.” Fuse Magazine, vol. 32, no. 2, 2009, pp. 18-25.

St-Onge, Nicole J.M. “The Dissolution of a Métis Community: Pointe à Grouette, 1860–1885.” Studies in Political Economy 18.1 (1985): 149–172. Web.

Toneguzzi, Mario. Hudson’s Bay Co. Launches Strategic Rebranding Amid Privatization. Retail Insider, 2020.

Vizenor, Gerald. Fugitive Poems: Native American Indian Scenes of Absence and Presence. Lincoln, Nebraska: First Bison Book 2000, p.15.

Whitehead, Joshua. Full Metal Indigiqueer: Poems. Talon Books, 2017.

Wilson, I. Former Jean Caron Sr. House, Parks Canada, 2002.

#this is my grad paper!!!!!#riel text #undergrad #art writing #contemporary art #indigenous #métis #michif #my work #writing #academia #academic writing #my practice #indigenous art #first nations art #please read or else!!!

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ladyluscinia · 1 year

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Idk if it's just a coincidence, but all of the sudden I keep seeing those "Izzy stans are so obsessed with this random white guy that they ignore or flatten every other character (especially poc)" takes all over and it's annoying me so much. So:

First, I'm going to link bromelads most recent attempt to get some actually constructive dialogue going about fandom racism because it has a whole section on this point. Technically two sections if you count the linked drive file as separate.

And then I'm going to ask all my fellow Izzy Hands lovers to add on to this post their favorite deep thoughts / burning questions / fun headcanons / etc. about your favorite non-Izzy characters. I know you all have a bunch of them. Bonus points for other side characters instead of Edward or Stede.

I'll start.

---

So I'm fascinated by the glimpses we get of pirate culture / the Queen Anne / the general environment that Edward is coming from and still half enmeshed in because I personally find the narrative push and pull there a lot more interesting than the whole running from one world to another that Stede (and to a lesser extent his crew) has going on. Which naturally leads to me finding Fang and Ivan so fucking interesting.

(Mandatory moment of sadness that Ivan won't be in season 2, because I was really hoping to see where his story was going 😭)

Not sure if I can really hypothesize many "hidden" depths to Fang because the show openly hit a pretty wide range. He cries over his dog and nude models for Lucius, but also skins a man with a snail fork and seems shockingly chill about Edward making an abrupt 180 to "maroon all your new friends to die". He's an obedient henchman in 1x02 and 1x04, but he also takes basically no prompting to go for the jugular on humiliating gossip the moment Edward seems disinclined to enforce Izzy's authority. The man contains multitudes already, minimal sleuthing required.

I am really looking forward to how S2 addresses his loyalty to Edward over the crew. Like at the end of 1x10 Fang and Ivan don't even really look that conflicted??? They were buddy buddy with these guys yesterday - moreso Fang than Ivan - but also seemed fully aware that Blackbeard could decide he was done playing around at any moment and then he did. Whoo boy. I mean, one genre of fic I'm usually not interested in is "Lucius in the walls" fic (I know he's alive, I just don't really care for that approach), but I will make an exception if it really explores Fang specifically hiding him because that's a big thing given he is openly afraid of defying Edward.

Like... Fang is a pretty friendly dude, and I can't imagine someone to fool around with was that impossible to find on Blackbeard's leatherman express. So it's really cool that despite very much not being, like, his true love or whatever, Lucius is apparently offering Fang something novel on the acceptance and connection front but maybe not something that wildly diverges from what he's had before. And I do think it's interesting to rotate how that tension could be playing out in his mind. He's got to be used to the whole flow of making and losing connections - that's just pirate life, nbd - except this time it's supposed to just be whatever, only... it's not? He actually misses Lucius and those other fun guys??? Maybe even enough to stand up to Edward over it?!

And Ivan! Man, Ivan has all kinds of potential stuff going on that I feel like people could talk about. I would probably talk about it more, only with the news he won't be in S2 it always makes me wonder how they are going to get rid of him and what that's going to imply about him (which might be contradictory to what they were intending). Which makes me sad.

Probably the biggest thing is like... I don't think Ivan actually likes Stede or the Revenge crew much? I mean on a personal level. Like, his only real friendship bond appears to be Fang, he's not noticeably trying to make new ones, and he's kinda fed up with Stede's people a few times? I'm thinking of rooting to kill them after 1x02, and scoffing at them during the raid in 1x05. And to me this is a really cool trait. I love it when "good" side characters have independent personalities enough to find the protagonist mildly annoying or something, instead of every single one of them perfectly correlating "good person" and "protagonist's friend". It prevents protagonist POV from becoming tunnel vision and accidentally making them seem like the center of the universe. (This is part of why the spn fandom loves Kevin.)

Not liking Stede isn't a character flaw, you know? And if you analyze Ivan's POV with just kinda not being impressed with these guys as an option, that leads to some really interesting places. Because in 1x06 he's actively encouraging Edward to just kill Stede like he said he would, not just following Izzy's lead, and then in 1x07 and 1x08 Ivan and Fang disappear. They don't show up again until Izzy does, but they also aren't seen leaving with Izzy or showing up in scenes like Jackie's bar like you would expect if they were just his loyal henchmen or whatever. So what are they doing in that gap???

I've said before that the adventures of Fang and Ivan is a completely wild story squeezed into the background and gaps of this show with two fascinatingly insane guys at the center of it, and I still think that's true. Fang goes right into becoming besties with the crew while still definitely thinking Edward is going to have him murder all of them in a few weeks. Ivan watches Izzy get banished, sleeps on it, and then fucking bounces with his buddy to go meet up with him... And then they praise Edward's punch and mutiny Izzy later! It's fun to think about!

...but I suppose my interest in Fang and Ivan does connect back up with my Izzyposting fairly often (since I like analyzing how characters interact and relate, and these two interact with Izzy), so how about another character?

Oluwande.

Now obviously the well trodden path here is TealOranges thoughts and feels. Plenty of drama, development, struggles, etc. But actually what I most want to know about Oluwande is how he and Spanish Jackie know each other???

Like what was up with that??? 👀👀👀

Their interaction gives off sorta inner circle vibes to me. Jackie clearly suspects / knows he betrayed her, but she calls him over to chat like old friends and Oluwande is expected to play along to act normal. So like... Was that normal? Did he regularly sit at Jackie's table and chat about life with her? Jackie does not have the time of day for her own husbands' problems most of the time - she seems to reprimand Geraldo for expecting more attention than the others - but immediately asking after Oluwande's life doesn't ping "oh she's definitely onto us" for him???

I don't think he's a husband (feels like it would have been addressed) and them being related seems unlikely. He's got a good head on his shoulders but he's clearly not some notorious pirate or outlaw of great skill. Like Oluwande is just some guy! But also some guy that Jackie was personally invested in!

And then bringing Jim into this... So Oluwande is just some guy in Jackie's inner circle, finds out the new barmaid is out to kill Jackie's favorite husband, and just helps them out??? My dude??? He doesn't even get whirlwind romance privileges. He did all that for a mysterious yet compelling stranger and no shit is this man crazy enough for the Revenge.

My headcanon re: the murder is that Alfeo was universally loathed and literally only Jackie and his gang liked him. So when people (and let's be honest Jim is not the most subtle of assassins so probably more than just Oluwande) realized someone was legit after him, they pretty much shrugged and sent them good thoughts. Also I think Oluwande and Jim had a solid plan to get away with killing Alfeo that went completely sideways, which is how they ended up hiding on a pirate ship pretending they knew how to sail. Oluwande didn't actually intend to completely ruin his status with Jackie and he does lowkey regret it in some ways, so he's gonna be thrilled when Jim tells him all about how they are cool with Jackie now and he can go back to the bar to hang next time they are in Nassau.

Anyway that's another big thing I want from S2 Jackie is Oluwande backstory, because that would be such a treat.

#our flag means death #people add your stuff!#(also i find it bitterly amusing that people use the passion with which izzy takes are defended as proof of bias)#(like i will argue izzy can read way harder than anyone argues the frenchie is just faking being illiterate headcanon)#(but that's because frenchie takes get 'lol awesome' and izzy takes get 'how dare you imply he's better than everyone else like this?!?')#(and i fight for my life every day to give edward the same or greater depth i give izzy 😔)#anyway my compelling side characters are #fang ofmd #ivan ofmd #spanish jackie ofmd #ladyluscinia #oluwande boodhari ofmd

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medusapelagia · 7 months

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Steddie Week Day 1: The Wedding

I'm working on many fics that I'm going to publish in October… but I wanted to make sure to publish something during the next week and I realized that I never posted my entries for the Steddie week (yeah, I was lurking on Tumblr at the time), so I hope you enjoy reading (or rereading) what I came up with!

May 22: Hunger / Pining / Somebody to Love by Queen

Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: pining, misunderstandings WC: 2857

Steve has asked him to play at his wedding. Fuck. He hates that. And he hates that he said yes. Like a moron. Because he can’t say no to Steve fucking Harrington. And now he is talking with Gareth and Jeff about the fucking music for Steve’s fucking wedding. I mean. He knows that he got close to Nancy after the Upsidedown shit… but deciding to get married in just a few months was too much even for Steve! But no, he wanted Nancy, so he decided to marry her. Good plan. There is only a tiny problem. Eddie is totally in love with Steve and he doesn’t know if he could manage to play at his fucking wedding. “Could we ask someone else?” “He asked you, Eddie.” “And you should have said no.” Jeff points out. “I know! You are right! But I couldn’t! How could you say no to Harrington?!” “Like this: no.” Gareth mocks him.

“Jesus you are horrible. You are no friends of mine!” “Of course, we are your friends, moron! That’s exactly why we are playing a fucking Queen’s song and not something metal. But you have to stop it. You can't complain all day long. The wedding is too close and he asked you for the music and you said yes so now we have to play!” “I could get sick!” Jeff looks at him perplexed “And ruin his wedding?” “Speaking of the wedding… weren’t you supposed to meet him today?” Holy fucking shit! He forgot! “You forgot, uh?” “Nope. I was just getting ready to go!” he denies and Gareth laughs while he runs toward his van.

*****

Obviously, Steve has chosen a fancy store in Indianapolis for his fucking dress. “I don’t want anything too plain or too much.” He says to the guy who is attending him “Do you need a dress Eddie? We could match!” he says with a wink. “I’m good, thanks. Entertainment, you know? Can’t buy something too fancy if I have to play.” “Oh, that’s right. I didn’t think about it. How are the guys? Ready for their first big event?” Well, Steve’s family is rich and famous but it’s still Hawkins so Eddie doesn’t think that it is going to be a really big event. But is nice that he thought about them. Right now Steve is wearing a blue three-piece suit with a white shirt and a matching tie. “What do you think? Too much?” He is looking at Eddie through the mirror. “No. It’s good.” “If you want something more fancy we have some damask suits like this.” “Oh my god! Eddie! This is perfect for you!” Steve says enthusiastically while taking the dark red jacket from the shopping assistant. “Not my thing. Not really.” “Are you sure? Please try it on! Just for me!” This day is going to be fuuuucking long. “I don’t want to waste your time man. I’m not going to buy it anyway.” He has no idea of the price but everything in that shop seems fucking expensive. “Please. If you don’t want to wear it at the wedding you could use it when you won your first award.” “Stop it, Steve. I’m not going to…” “I don’t think we have this model in your friend’s size…” the sale assistant intervenes, but Steve insists. “Please…” “I said stop it!” he yells and Steve’s smile falters. “Sorry. I didn’t want to be annoying.” The sale assistant takes the jacket back. Steve seems ashamed “I hate buying clothes. I never do. My mum buys some shit for me. Or Nancy, sometimes. I just hate to look at me in the mirror.” His hands travel where Eddie knows he is hiding scars. “Hey. I’m sorry for yelling. I don’t like… I don’t like this kind of place. They look at me like I’m going to shoplift, and I never shoplifted but this place… Jesus, I should take a pair of cufflinks, shouldn’t I?” Steve smiles. “You are right. This place sucks. Let’s find another.” “But you love the jacket.” “But I love you more and the sale assistant was rude to you so…” I love you more. Love… like friend love. Like the kind of love that you have for a person that almost died with you. That kind of love. Not Eddie’s kind. “Ok. Let’s go. We will find something! You will not attend the wedding naked! I swear!” he declares while helping him out of the suit. Eddie runs his finger on Steve’s skin while helping him out of the shirt and the guy trembles. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” “Don’t touch them. Please.” The scars. Steve’s back intricate tangle of scars. Eddie knows them. He cleaned them and attended to them, they are normal. To him. Not to Steve. “Sorry. I didn’t mean.” “Get out, please. I need to get dressed.” Steve is not looking at Eddie. He is looking at his own reflection, at every fucking scar. Eddie would like to make it better, to tell him that he doesn’t care. That every scar means that he is still alive and he loved every one of them, especially the one on the neck. The one that almost took him away from them. But he was resilient enough to survive and kill the fucking bat. He sighs. Steve was proud of his body. He used to run every morning, work out, play basketball, and swim. Now he can’t even look at his reflection. Fuck. He should tell Nancy. She probably knows but better safe than sorry. They are going to spend every night together so… “Did you find something that you like?” the sales assistant asks, but Steve looks at him and answers “They weren’t my size. Sorry.”

*****

“Fuck! Have you seen his face?! They weren’t my size. You are such a little shit, Harrington!” “He was rude! “ “Yeah, he was. But it was routine for me, you didn’t have to…” “I had to! We are friends! Aren’t we?” Friends. Yeah. “So. I need to find a fucking dress or Nancy is going to kill me. She said she wanted to come but she was busy with the girls’ dress so… Can you believe that Max is actually going to put on a dress?” “What?! For real?!” “Yes! El wanted a dress and wanted to match Max so she accepted. Nothing too girlish she said. We will see.” “Cool, cool. And Robin?” “What?” “Is she going to be in a dress as well?” “No fucking way! I told her that if I find something I’ll buy her a matching one. What? We almost got the same size! She always steals my pants!” Eddie snorts “Oh my god. This is gonna be the strangest wedding ever!” “We have seen a stranger…” he answers smiling, then he sees a little shop “What about this? Do you like it?” It’s a small shop and the owner shows them a few pieces. While Steve is trying something on the old man gets closer to Eddie “You are a cute couple.” He whispers. “We are not…!” “Don’t try to deny it. I see how you look at each other, and it’s kind of cute. I wished I was brave like you when I was young…” Eddie looks at him in the eyes and he sees the answers he is looking for. “I am. He is not.” “Are you sure?” “We are shopping for his fucking wedding man!” he complains. “Maybe you should say something instead of complaining…” the man suggests, then he helps Steve with his trouser “I will need to shorten them a little bit, but I think you look great.” He does. “Do you have a matching one? Maybe in another color?” “For your friend?” “Eddie? No, Robin. It’s a long story but I’d really love to have a matching one.” He shows him another one in a dark forest green. “Do you think that Robin will like it?” “I’m sure she will. And Nancy too. You look great!” “Thanks, man.” He answers, but he is still avoiding the mirror. “You look great. Really.” “Yeah. You already told me…” “I mean… you... Your body… you are beautiful Steve.” What the fuck is he doing! Shit, shit, shit! Steve looks at him perplexed but smiles a little “I’m going to pay. See you at the car?” Eddie nods and waits for him. He has a big bag with the two suits “I really hope Robin likes it or you are going to put it on!” he jokes putting the bag in the trunks. “So… about the music.” “Uhm?” “What are you going to play? Somebody to Love and…” “You have other requests, Harrington?” “Not really… but I was curious.” “Sorry. That’s a surprise for the groom.” “Ok, ok, but you could tell me!” “Nope. I told you. It’s gonna be a surprise!” Steve sighs but doesn’t insist. He is going to choose the best love songs. That is going to be his fucking present.

****

Robin is knocking at the new trailer’s door. “Hold your horses, Buckley! The wedding is in a few hours! We still have time!” “Nope! You are going to help me with the flowers!” “Why me?” “Because anyone else is busy, we couldn’t bring the flower to the church too early, and you have a van so…” “Harrington needs to make me a fucking statue.” “He will. He will. Come on! We are late!” The flowers are not fancy as he expected and the church is a little country church, not the big one in the center of the town. “What? You don’t like it?” “No, it’s cute, but I thought that they would have chosen something more fancy.” Maybe he is wrong. He doesn’t know Nancy well, maybe she is the kind of girl that love little ceremonies and wildflowers. “Ok. So here are going to seat the Byers, Steve will be on the other side with Hopper, then the girls, the Wheelers, and the Sinclairs, do you think that Max’s mum would like to be on the groom's or the bride's side?” “The groom? I think that Max is going to stay on the groom's side, isn’t she?” “Yeah. With El. Good call Munson. Maybe you could be a wedding planner if the music thing doesn’t work out.” “The music thing?! Robin you know I love you but this is too much!” “Sorry. Sorry! Now. I have to go to Steve’s can you drive me there?” “Yes. I have to go to pick up the guys so…” “Great!” He drives her to Steve’s but, as he pulls over next to the brown BMW, Robin gives him a little package. “From Steve. As a good luck token.” When he opens the small packages he sees a couple of bat cufflinks and a note that says ‘They match mine.’

****

Eddie thinks about the little country church. He can’t still believe that Steve is going to get married in that little church and that Nancy is going to marry him. He always thought that she was the kind of woman that would have put his career above everything else. Well, it seems that almost dying could change your perspective. Surely it changed Eddie’s perspective. He is going to play for Steve’s wedding and he is going to move. He finally got his stupid diploma and he is going to move with Gareth and Jeff to Indianapolis, maybe even Chicago. They need a place that could love their music and don’t address them as devil worshippers. He already spoke with Wayne. He is not happy, he is gonna miss Eddie and Eddie is going to miss Wayne, but he understands. “Come on guys! We have a wedding to attend!” They put everything on the van and he drives back to the church. He is wearing Wayne’s old suit, with Steve’s cufflinks. “They are sick! Where did you find them?” “They are present.” “Wayne’s?” “Steve’s.” “Shouldn’t it be the contrary? Shouldn’t be you buying something for him?” Maybe, but he is still broke. “I made a fucking playlist for him and I’m going to play at his wedding. I think that this is more than enough.” “Yeah. I think it sucks to play at your lover’s wedding.” Gareth says looking out of the windows. It sucks. But he is not going to do a remake of The Graduate. He is going to play. And be cool. And he will wait to be back home to cry all his stupid tears. He is good. When they arrive Steve is outside with some guests, he greets them from afar and they go into the church to assemble all their instruments. The flowers are a little bit ruined from the hot but they look good enough to endure the wedding. When Robins comes to ask if they need any help Eddie asks “Have you seen Steve’s parents?” “What? Why should I?” Ok. Steve’s parents aren’t the best parents in the world. But still… avoiding their son's wedding seems a little bit too much! Maybe that’s why the wedding is so small. They didn’t contribute. Maybe they are against the wedding. Oh… doomed love… how romantic. Steve and Hopper enter and take place on the right of the altar. They start to play Somebody to Love. Hopper looks at Steve with tears in his eyes and Steve smiles. Eleven and Max are the flower girls and a few moments later the bride enters with two boys at her side. Jonathan. And Will. And Nancy Wheeler is holding the train. What the fuck?! Gareth and Jeff look at him equally confused but they keep playing all their repertoire.

****

Eddie is officially drunk when he sees Robin later on. “Why didn’t you tell me!” he yells at Robin. “What?! What should I have told you?” “That this was Hopper’s wedding!” “Of course, I told you!” “You didn’t!” “Ok. Maybe Steve did. Someone told you by the way! Because you are here and you played so you knew about the wedding!” “I knew about the wedding but I thought it was Steve’s?” “Steve’s? What the hell are you talking about?! Steve is too young to get married.” Shit. He is too drunk for this kind of thing. “Fuck you, Buckley. You killed a dead man.” “What? Did you think that your love was lost?” “Fuck you…” “Oh my god, you did! You did!” “Stop it! I’m drunk. You’re drunk. We will talk about it tomorrow!” “Why don’t you talk about it now… but with Steve.” “I made already a fool of myself. That’s enough for one day. Thank you.” But Eddie was never lucky in life. “Did you like the cufflinks?” Steve asks appearing from nowhere. “What?!” “The cufflinks? Was it too soon? I thought… I’m sorry I didn’t want to make it awkward. I should have thought… never mind. I was stupid. Sorry.” “You are not stupid. And the cufflinks are sick. Thank you.” They went back to the Byers for dinner and now they are outside, looking at the woods. “Do you think that it’s over?” Steve asks. “I don’t know but I fucking hope so. In any case, I’m not going to be here if the shit hits the fan again.” “What does it mean?” “I’m leaving. With Gar and Jeff. We are going to move to Indianapolis, maybe Chicago. We want to try to make it big.” “Oh.” Steve seems almost… sad? “What? You don’t think that we are going to make it?” “Oh no. It’s just… I’m going to miss you.” “I know. You will have to deal with the kids on your own. I’m sorry.” “It’s not that. I… I don’t know. I like hanging out with you. You are funny. And smart.” “I don’t want to disappoint you but you are talking with a three-time senior so…” “You are smart in the way that count. In the way that can save some lives.” “Oh. That. Yeah. Big show. Glad I survived!” “I’m glad too.” He is teasing, right? It’s their game. They tease each other. “Steve! Come here! We need an impartial judge!” Robin calls. Max complains “He is not an impartial judge! You are almost twins!” “It doesn’t matter! Come on! Steve!” “I’m coming!” he turns around “Sorry. I have to go. Are you staying or?” “I think I’ll go back to my place with the guys.” “Cool.” He seems ready to go back inside, then he turns around and kisses Eddie sweetly on the lips “For the road.” He says, still tipsy. Eddie is drunk. He must have collapsed somewhere and this is a fucking dream. Steve Harrington has not kissed him. It’s not possible! Is it? “What the fuck was that?! Did you finally talk?!” Gareth says getting closer to him. “Did you see it?” he asks. “Harrington kissing you? Yeah! No shit!” “Fuck. He kissed me!” “So?! Did you talk?!” They didn’t. But they need to. He wants to. In the van, he turns the radio on, the Queen are singing 'Find Me Somebody to Love'. Maybe. Finally. He found him.

#steddie #steddie week #steddieweek2023 #day 1: pinning and somebody to love #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #my fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #misunderstanding #medusapelagia #medusapelagia fanfic

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