#I had to do a banishing today lol so it's just been on my mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enjolrasoftheday · 8 months ago

Note

Hello!! Do you know any good Enjolras/Grantaire fics ? Asking for scientific purposes only, naturally

Well, if it's in the name of science...

I do have some recommendation lists in my fic rec tag, and I absolutely still stand by those. But! Here are some more recent fics, in no particular order, that I've enjoyed (and may or may not have speed-read in the last week since receiving this ask, I swear I wasn't ignoring you, I was just conducting important research lol). I’m not going to include the tags/warnings for each fic, so remember to take a look at those on ao3!

Also if anyone else has any recs, feel free to add them in the comment or reblogs!

Happy reading!!

Seek and Destroy by pumpkinspiceprouvaire (27,102 words)

Because Grantaire doesn’t feel that way about him. Grantaire is his friend, and Enjolras will love him from a distance, and that’s the way it’s always been, the way it’s always going to be. Enjolras’ blood freezes in his veins. It’s so obvious. This isn’t Grantaire.

restoring the balance by televisionbodies (14,427 words)

“How long are you stuck here?” He thinks for a moment. “The next train is in about five hours time. And then I’ve got work again, tomorrow.” “No wonder you wanted a coffee,” the bartender murmurs. “Well, then. You’ve got plenty of time to let me show you around.” — It’s 12:36am on a Wednesday and Enjolras, consumed with his work, has missed the last train home.

Les beaux cheveux que voilà by GayAvocado (9,184 words)

One should always have a hair tie around their wrist. If not for their own hair, for others’, or for the multitude of mundane situations that require a hair tie. So of course Grantaire has a hair tie around his wrist tonight. A pink one that might have belonged to Jehan or Azelma or both at some point. The neon colour will look lovely in the middle of Enjolras' golden curls. Or: For some reason, Grantaire finds himself braiding Enjolras’ hair way more often than he thought he ever would. Things change between them.

And Pages To Go by femmebingley (5,441 words)

Grantaire loses his sketchbook. /// “You’ve had it this whole time?” Grantaire couldn’t even find enough indignation to cover his growing terror. “Did you open it?” Enjolras sighed, and that was it. Grantaire’s life was over.

Lost in All of Our Vices by cx_shhhh (11,220 words)

“You will be banished for an indeterminate amount of time and stripped of your godly abilities,” Javert announces, voice booming in the echoing hall, not unlike the thunder he represents. “Until you learn that order is necessary for the gods to stay in power, that the respect of mortals is valuable to us, and until you learn to love them wholeheartedly, you will live like one.” Basically, Enjolras is banished from the heavens, and he learns that a god can, indeed, fall in love.

The Worst First Date by kjack89 (3,443 words)

Enjolras sat down at his desk, fresh mug of coffee in front of him, and took a moment to adjust the ring light behind his cellphone before taking a deep breath and pushing record. “So, um, I hope no one minds but we are taking a break today from our usually scheduled ranting at various governmental institutions because one of my best friends wants me to do a TikTok that’s part of this viral trend.” Or, the one where Enjolras makes a TikTok about his first date with Grantaire.

Green Rushes by loverism (6,043 words)

The mermaid, Enjolras, bites his lip, glaring at Grantaire like he's trying to determine whether he's serious. Grantaire supposes he was probably raised on stories of how evil the cave-witches are, how deceitful; how they mock everything they speak of; how they're driven only by profit; and above all, how striking a bargain with one of them is never, ever worth it. Grantaire can't exactly call those stories inaccurate. or: grantaire is a sea witch chilling in a cave, mixing potions and trying to mind his own business. enjolras has other ideas.

Love is Blind by kjack89 (32,982 words)

Enjolras sat down in front of the camera, and the producer just off-screen gave him a reassuring smile. “Nothing to it,” the producer promised. “Just introduce yourself and tell everyone why you’re here.” Enjolras jerked a nod before looking into the camera. “My name is Enjolras,” he said. “I’m 31 years old, and I’m here because this is the first season that this show has been open to queer contestants.” The producer cleared his throat. “So do you believe Love is Blind?” he prompted. Enjolras gave the camera a smile. “Well,” he said. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”

Love Bites by ShameDumpster (9,557 words)

"What—" Enjolras says, breath hitching at the sight, “What are you doing?” Grantaire immediately freezes, and then pulls back, slightly. Even still, it’s closer than they’ve ever actually been, barely a foot between their faces. "I…need to bite you?" he says, managing to sound both wry and nervous at the same time, "How exactly did you think this worked?" In which Grantaire has recently been turned into a vampire, and Enjolras offers to help him. For the Same-Prompt Fic Challenge 2022

Tell Me Why (Ain’t Nothin but a Heartache by cs_shhhh (3,281 words)

It starts slowly, of course. Grantaire already pays too much attention to Enjolras, so it’s easy to spot the white petals, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. Enjolras seems to grow angrier and angrier when the coughing starts interrupting his speeches, so much that Combeferre has to take over after pushing a glass of water towards him, and he casts the flowers to the ground, glaring at them.

anything you want, boy (i can make it happen) by thewalrus_said (3,545 words)

As he’d been falling asleep, he’d expected to feel devastated, or heartbroken, or something negative after a clearly one-off night with the object of his long-held desires, but instead he just feels...satisfied, almost content. Enjolras clearly finds him at least physically desirable, and he’s apparently in Enjolras’ head at least a little bit, and that turns out to be enough for him. He’s finally had sex with Enjolras, and while it hadn’t been what he’d secretly hoped for, it had still been good, and so the memory doesn’t drag him down like he’d feared it might. So when he answers a knock on his door a week later to find a breathless Enjolras, who immediately pushes his way into Grantaire’s apartment and says, “I think we should have sex again,” he’s more than a little taken aback.

The Arms of the Ocean, so Sweet and so Cold by ShameDumpster (11,867 words)

Sirens attack the crew of the dreaded pirate ship, the Musain. They send out Enjolras to deal with it, as in the past, he’s proven himself to be unaffected by their song. Unfortunately for him, as he’s told Grantaire many times, things can (and do) change. And this change may leave his life, and heart, in the balance.

It Only Takes a Meow-ment by cx_shhhh (7,158 words)

“The prince is finally putting out a challenge for his hand. He has a very loyal cat, you see. Whichever suitor, man or woman, can obtain the ring attached to the bow around its neck will be given the time of day.” Or Enjolras is oblivious, and it impacts everyone around him in the best way possible.

neon loneliness by dyhtps (4,345 words)

He lets his gaze fall around the kitchen. A coffee mug left out on the side, a tea-towel hung over the oven handle, even one of those awful kiss the cook aprons that he figures must belong to Enjolras’ boyfriend. Grantaire blames the concussion for the sudden, awful sinking feeling in his stomach. He decided he hates the mystery boyfriend, maybe he's been an arse to future Grantaire before and it's just his subconscious warning him to get away from the guy as quick as he can. or Grantaire loses his memory, is jealous of Enjolras' mystery boyfriend and finally realises that's actually him.

visiting hours by televisionbodies (5,731 words)

”I guess I’m just surprised you’re still in here at all.” “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Enjolras says smoothly, knowing exactly what Grantaire means. “Two months?” One side of Grantaire’s mouth is turning upwards. “I didn’t think you were capable of sitting still that long.” — 5 times grantaire visits enjolras in prison, and 1 time he doesn’t have to.

#les mis #exr #enjoltaire #les miserables #enjolras #grantaire #fic rec

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random-thot-generator · 2 years ago

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Love Thy Frenemy + Interlude

(Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

Interlude | One-Shot: The Life of a Ghost

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

(Notes: This is a brain purge. It’s a one-shot scene with Ghost and Captain Price. I was working on chapter 6, but had to purge this before I could continue, so here it is lol. You don’t have to read it, but after rediscovering that quote, I knew I had to write something for Ghost/Simon, and this is the result. It gives a little more insight into his state of mind about Reader/’Doll’, and how he’s coming to terms with certain feelings he’s been ignoring. I didn’t bother with a taglist this time since this is more self-indulgent than anything else, but if you do read, I hope you enjoy!)

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of canon-typical violence, Profanity, Simon’s poor coping mechanisms and nihilistic attitude, Price is a good dad/bruv, no Y/N

Word Count: 1467

Interlude

“I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost."

— Jack Kerouac, On the Road Jack

Simon sat atop the roof of the admin building overlooking the base. Bright halogen security lights buzzed an incessant hum, soldiers on guard duty patrolling the fenced perimeter. It was late, after two in the morning, but he was too restless to sleep yet, the adrenaline of the last op leaving him tense and keyed up despite his fatigue.

It had been a close one today. He touched the bandage at his cheek and winced. Just a centimeter or two to the left, a mere fraction of a head turn, and his brains would have been splattered against the mudbrick wall he’d been using for cover. He could still recall the sound of his mask cracking as the bullet grazed his face, the stinging sear of pain across his cheek, his rifle coming up to take out the enemy on instinct because his brain was otherwise occupied.

Death had just caressed his cheek, and all he could think about in that moment was you. It was your face that had loomed up in his mind’s eye, so clear he’d breathed out the one word he associated most with you.

“Doll.”

Nothing like that had happened to him in a very long time, not since he’d lost his family. There were times that he had felt fear when facing death, but it was a base, primal kind of fear, like that of a wild animal ready to fight for its life. He had also felt genuine fear for his team before when their lives had been in danger. This kind of fear he was used to, could control, but what had happened to him today...

The fear he had experienced today had stripped him of all his pretenses and bullshit. It had forced him to acknowledge feelings he harbored but pretended didn’t exist. It forced him to accept something that he didn’t fucking want: the responsibility of living for someone else.

This is what you did to him. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He was pissed at you for it, pissed at you for making him feel this way, pissed at you for this whole bloody mess...

And it still didn’t change the fact that you would be the first person he went looking for as soon as he got home, because he needed to see you. He didn’t want to need anyone. He didn’t want any of this, yet he couldn’t bloody stay away. He’d tried. Fuck him, he’d bloody tried, and he couldn’t fuckin’ do it.

He was right fucked, wasn’t he?

Simon huffed out a chagrined breath and thumped his head back on the metal housing of the heating unit behind him. Scrubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw, he squeezed his eyes shut. His Ghost mask, in need of repair or replacement, was gone for now, traded in for a fresh balaclava, its stretchy material pulled up to the bridge of his nose. Slitting his eyes open, he squinted up at the cold stars above and inhaled another lungful of smoke. “I’m fucked,” he told them, as he parted his lips, letting the smoke curl out of his open mouth in lazy, white coils. He watched it drift up into the frigid night air to hang like a specter over his head before the wind banished it to the ether.

The squeak of hinges sounded off to his left as the access door to the roof was opened. He heard his captain approaching before he saw him, Price’s booted steps thumping along the roof in a steady cadence. He sat down with a grunt beside Simon and sighed, his breath fogging in front of his bearded face.

“Thought I’d join ya,” he said, pulling the stub of a cigar out of his shirt pocket. He patted over his body until he located his lighter, then blew on the end of the cigar and lit it. He puffed away until thick, sweet smoke curled up to join with Simon’s. “How’s the cheek?” he asked.

Simon shrugged. “’S alright, just a graze. Didn’t even need stitches. Bullet cauterized it.”

Price took in his words, their deadpan delivery. He nodded, though his mind had already drifted back to the mission, to their harried exfil, recalling the look he had seen in Ghost’s wide stare when he’d stumbled aboard the helo. The captain saw something in the other man’s eyes he had never seen during a mission before: fear.

He didn’t fault his lieutenant for it; he was honestly relieved to see it after such a close call. It was a normal reaction, under the circumstances. Still, it wasn’t Ghost’s normal reaction. How he was acting right now— cold, distant and mildly disdainful— that was his normal reaction. This time, however, it didn’t seem to ring as true as it did before.

Price had once asked Ghost how he could be so blasé about his own mortality. Ghost’s answer had chilled him to the bone and caused him no small amount of concern for his lieutenant.

“Yer only scared o’ death when ya got somethin’ to lose.” Simon had told him with cold, dead eyes. “Not an issue fer me. If I die, I die. Don’ really fuckin’ care.”

That look of fear Price had glimpsed in Ghost’s eyes had been telling. Something had changed, had been changing with his lieutenant over the course of several months. It had been subtle, gradual enough to escape immediate notice, but after this last mission, Price was now paying very close attention. Did Ghost now have something to lose?

Price left the cigar in his mouth as he pondered the question, letting his arm drop back to his side. His hand landed on something flat and rectangular— a book, he realized, glancing down. He picked it up and held it up to the light of the security lamps to read its cover. ‘On the Road’ by Jack Kerouac.

“Seems like I had to read this in secondary school,” he murmured, flipping the book open. It was a new copy but already bore numerous highlighted passages and scribbled notes in the margins.

Simon tensed beside him but said nothing as the captain’s blunt fingers skimmed over pages, eyes darting back and forth as he read a highlighted section.

“I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost."

Price felt his throat constrict. He knew how and why Ghost chose his callsign, but the passage could not have described his lieutenant’s situation any more succinctly. It was almost prescient in nature, reading it now. He cleared his throat and closed the book, placing it back where he found it.

“Favorite of yours?” he rasped out. “Didn’t know you read that sort of stuff. Usually see you readin’ those old pulp sci-fi books.”

Simon grunted out a short laugh. “I usually don’t, but Doll loan—” He caught himself, biting off the sentence. “A friend loaned it t’me once.” He gave a shrug. “Kinda grew on me. Bought my own copy.”

Price nodded, letting the smoke roll out of his mouth before speaking again. “Loanin’ ya books like that, she must be quite a smart lass,” he said without missing a beat.

Simon blinked. His shoulders lost some of their tension. “She is.” He huffed another laugh, this one softer, as he tilted his head down to look at his legs stretched out in front of him. “Too bloody smart fer me, tha’s fer sure.” He lifted his head and looked toward the direction of the gates. “When can we get out o’ here? Ready t’go home.”

Price tried to hide his surprise at the question by studying the end of his cigar. He usually had to coerce his lieutenant into taking his leave, but not of late, he now realized. He slanted a sly side-eye at him. “De-briefing’s at 0700, then you’ll be free to go. Unless you want to stay and volunteer to help train those new recruits comin’ in tomorrow? Advanced field tactics?”

Simon sniffed. “Fuck ‘em. ‘M goin’ home.”

A pleased little smile tilted up the captain’s mouth as he looked up at the stars. “That’s alright. I can assign it to one of the other lads.” He crossed his arms over his chest, smile widening. “If ya think of it, ask your doll if she has any Louis L’amour. Partial to the westerns, myself.”

Simon grunted, half-irritated, half-amused. “I’ll see what I can do, Cap.”

- Prev. >> Next

#Frenemies/Tenderness AU #Love Thy Frenemy #On the Road quotes #interlude/one-shot #simon ghost riley x frenemy fem reader

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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 7 months ago

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Top 10 18 Most Hated NonDD Roles

Aka the ‘Fuck You, _____!’ list lol these aren't in order other than alphabetical by movie/show this time since that's a lotta hate, but oh boy almost changed my mind a couple times. Now, everyone knows I love DD characters, especially now that I've finished my love list, but what about everyone else around him? Sometimes I like them, sometimes I'm indifferent, sometimes they gotta kill him and I understand that cause he's a hot villain, but sometimes they just straight up treat him bad in ways I don't like or are so awful that I genuinely hate them, so let's take a look at some pure negativity today lmao

Just to state first that even though I'm very salty in this it's still all for fun, even if I have Some Opinions on all the people below 😖

James and José - 12 Monkeys

This is a tiny fuck you cause I get it, but the man was very unwell, like very very very unwell, this is mostly just me excusing murder because hot man but he was doing it to save time itself or something, doesn't that count for anything? Get him some help and then stop the bad guys and fix time, they should be your actual priority, guys.

Everyone who was ever mean to Simon - Almost Human

I'm just a broken record at this point, everyone knows how I feel about Simon, I'm scooping him up and punching all of them in the face and then we're gunna get fries and watch TV together.

Everyone in AVGN: The Movie

I've seen YouTuber movies before, there's usually something that makes me laugh even if it's still that special type of cringe. This movie just sucks. It's bad. It's sososososo bad. The only part that made me laugh was DD's quick bit because he sells every role he's in and I love him. I'm so glad I never have to see this one again, this one's a fuck you to them for just… not making an entertaining movie :/

Cass' family and Dwayne - Cass

Yeah yeah I know they're kids and that they're lonely and dealing with it in bad ways, but my God. She has zero self-preservation (he had such good points about her following him like????) and it's frustrating, and when she went to take that selfie I became so anxious over what her giving it to him would bring that it made me actually sick. Her brother is straight awful, I felt bad at first cause clearly he only has the two friends, but he wasn't just allowing things to happen he was right there being a genuine shit to that homeless couple that it made me mad. The dad I can't fault because he's just looking out for his daughter, so he gets a pass, but fuck Dwayne in particular for stealing his paintings, pissing on everything else, and then nearly getting Joshua to basically kill himself. Old man yells at clouds but it's me yelling at these kids, fuck them I'm taking care of Joshua now.

Literally everyone else in Cora

The Vampire is the only redeeming quality of this short and even then he still falls prey ;w; Cora herself is okay, her dad is good, but her mom sucks and those teens at the camp really suck, the cringe dialogue really gets me yeesh. I feel like their entire scene could've been shortened or at least written in a way that didn't make my entire body shrivel up when the guys spoke. Fuck all of them for making me cringe when I'm trying to enjoy those double fangs, I’m so petty I’m glad all of them got got.

Jerome - Gotham

His energy is great. I'm still not sure if he actually is the Joker or if I'm insane and it was a red herring cause I saw comments? But he nailed the Dark Knight energy of the Joker even if he's not, don't spoil, I will watch someday I swear. Anyway fuck him though for killing Dwight in the most Joker way possible, yeah he took his face but he also brought him back to life so c’mon man just forgive him already and banish him, I've got room for him in my bed it all works out.

Olga and Svea - Last Seen Wearing

I don't really hate them, but I really like David Porter and the fact that he brought flowers and they still ate him after all he went through to find them. I'm gunna find him at the club and take him to a different party, in fact I'll become a model and help him write a better story and they can eat some other people instead, this tired party boy is mine now.

The Grove - Light Night With the Devil

Yes, fuck the entire Grove. If he didn't get tangled up with them then everything would be fine. He might never be #1 on the charts but he'll always be #1 in our hearts, and Minnie would still be there for him too, so yeah fuck the whole Grove, I want my Night Owl to be happy.

Amber - MacGyver 2016

This one is quick and obvious but like fuck her for using him to start, but using his son as well? What a bitch, I'm not gunna be Cassian’s stepmom I'm gunna be his mom who stepped up.

The Woman - Making Love

This is totally me projecting here, but fuck her. Anyone who's okay with cheating and jerking around the both of them is genuinely hated in my book, both as someone who's been jerked around and someone who's watched someone very dear to me be jerked around while she was in so much pain. This is a real hate, there's nothing jokey about it this time, he deserves better no matter how beautiful she is. No one deserves to go through what he's going through, even though he's not blameless for pursuing her. I wasn’t, and neither was my friend. This one gets me personally, so fuck her.

Detective Loki - Prisoners

I think this guy might be The Most Hated NonDD Role ever. The amount of people I know who hate this guy for what he did to Bob is astounding and I was really hoping he'd find the real guy and save the girls until he did what he did. This guy sucks, he hurt my most precious boy, I'm glad he saved the one girl but he needs a swift kick to the nuts as my dad would say, fuck you Loki, I’ll be taking your badge now, no retirement, no pension.

The entirety of Ray Donovan

I've been putting away DVDs of this show at work for years but I've never seen anything from it until I watched DD's ep. It was so bad I quit the rest of the video after his scene. This one was actual torture to sit through up until that point, I had to see old man sex that I did not want, the camera was on Donovan most of the time while DD spoke, this one is another personal fuck you for giving me a bad time, that show and everyone else in it sucks. (No offense to anyone who may be following me who likes it but it wasn't for me)

The Bullies - Teacher

I hate bullies. I can't stand them. The only exception is Cam and that's only because he's hot and I want him to bully me. In highschool I was always too invisible to be bullied, but those few times where I was seen? Where my seat on the bus was being kicked because it was hot and I opened the window? Where someone came after me cause I was protecting my friend from her bitchiness? Where I was given a fake love confession by a friend of my crush, only to hear him whisper to my crush that I wasn't reading it so I knew it was his idea? I fucking hate bullies. Fuck Tim and his friends for everything they did to Preston and Daniela. Fuck his dad for what he said and did to James as well as his own son even though I’m mad at him. Fuck everyone who wasn't on his side while everything actively got worse and made him spiral. But especially, fuck Arabella for looking at him that way. Like I said in my other list, she would cringe directly to his face whenever he said something she didn't like, which is so fucking rude??? Even when she accepted his dates and she was supposed to be on his side she was still cringing at him; if I was on a date with someone and said something dumb and I looked up and saw that I'd cry and never talk to them again. If she wasn't interested she could’ve just turned him down, he's a nice guy, he would've understood even if it made him sadder, it would've been better than her treating him that way and then storming out on him after he was humiliated in front of her. I hate the bullies, but she was the worst because she wasn't even supposed to be a bully, she just treated him cruelly while trying to be kind.

Dany Wilkins - The Belko Experiment

Okay for this one I'm just petty. He was freaking out and she made it worse, I may just be spouting nonsense here cause I'm clouded by the Power of Love, but if that were me I would've tried to actually calm him, cause her running did not help. It'd be scary as hell, but if I worked there he'd already know me so I wouldn't leave his side. I maybe kinda cheered when she finally died after surviving for so long, this one makes me petty.

The Boogeyman

Great monster design, hated every second he was around, but also fuck this guy for making such a sweet dad so miserable before getting him. I am once again swearing I will save him and make him happy.

Everyone else in The Employer

I just genuinely hate those guys. Their characters sucked and watching them was insufferable. James was the only redeeming quality and I mean that, way to write everyone as the most unlikable people on the planet, which I guess was the point, but they can be unlikeable and still be enjoyable, y’know, that is a possible combination that makes for a better movie.

Fuerza - The Flash

I just straight up hate this thing for killing him in one swipe. It was cheap, it was bad writing, it left me so annoyed after all the great buildup with his family and him working those eyes and stealing my heart. What the actual hell, why couldn't that have been saved for the next episode, why couldn't he have least been injured but ultimately okay, this one just frustrates me. I’m going to the future to warn him and we’re gunna start a family together, that’s another Ray Guarantee and this one’s all for me.

Dracula - The Last Voyage of the Demeter

Yes, I'm giving a fuck you to Dracula himself. This guy made everyone excited for some good bonus pay fun times, then ate half of them, made him shoot his crewmate, made him cry which is instantly illegal, made him fall like 40 feet where he bumped his head and broke his leg, made him try and sink the ship he called him, and then killed him. By the time he fell I was ready to get up and jump into the movie right there in the theater. The only way Dracula can redeem himself is if Hollywood lets DD play him, otherwise fuck Dracula, friendship ended with him, now Dr Fearless is my best friend.

Honorable mentions

A super special fuck you to James Gunn and Hulu specifically for giving me the greatest loves of my life and then taking them away from me. I'm going to buy their licensing rights from you and bring them back, I miss Abner and Johnson every single day, life is unfair, this sucks, what the hell.

#Ray's Ramblings #not tagging him this time cause this is about everyone OTHER than him lol #I thought about this on the verge of sleep and instantly was awake again trying to think of who else to add other than Loki #he was the first he HAD to be on here

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just-some-random-blogger · 7 months ago

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YN:

“THERE IS a dragon at our gates.” [...] You would rather not face your husband. Not today. Not ever, if you are being truthful with yourself.

Lock him out queen. Make him beg to-... Oh nvm he has a dragon......... 😭😭😭 I'm so sorry

You have gained weight. The slim figure that you flaunted at sixteen is long gone. There is more weight in your hips and chest, a bit of softness around your middle. You know he will mock you for it.

SHES PREGNANT?? 😭😭😭😭😭 NOW that I'm rereading this I don't think she is maybe stress eating. Or maybe that's what you WANT ME TO THINK!!!🫵🫵🫵 nah but then again later on the fic says they banged once so your honor it's just adulthood

Not after he had left your shared home and started living in sin with her, shaming you in front of the whole realm.

This man is not your husband. This man is not even one of Rhaenyra’s men.

THE WAY I GASPED I WAS LIKE WHOOO JACAERYS WHOO WHOO

“Prince… Aemond.”

It's aemond 😛😛😛😛😛😛😛😛 OF COURSE ITS AEMOND YOU DUMB FUCK YOU READ THE TAGS HEY DADDY 🥰🥰🥰🥰 HOW YOU DOIN N N

“My husband is not here.” You say, hurriedly. It’s your first instinct. You do not want that dragon of his torching your tenants.“You are welcome to check the castle and my lands, but there is no love lost between us. I assure you I am not hiding him.”

I love her. 🥺 Idk she seems so pragmatic or whatever that means HAHAHHAHAH. I love how quickly she dropped daemon too DASURV

“It is not our place to judge.” You say, voice firm. This man is at least ten years your junior, you will not allow him to intimidate you. [...] “Only the Seven are perfect, and thus, entitled to judge others' actions.”

Me. I ain't letting no younger person intimidate me. ALSO THE MOMMY KINK IS MOMMY KINKING AEMOND HEARD THE FIRST PART AND SAID SAY LESS LETS BANG

“Very devout.” Aemond steps closer to you, his smile widening. The way his face contorts, sharp and with too many teeth, reminds you of one of the piscivorous fishes you have seen swimming up the stream during summer. The look in their eyes is the same he sports now, right before they decide to feast on an unaware trout. “Just like us. Seems like we have a lot in common.”

🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵SEE SEE. ALSO WHY IS HE SMILING WITH HIS TEETH I DONT THINK. AEMONDS EVER DONE THAT GET BACK 🤺🤺🤺🤺 BACK DEMON 🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️ BACK I SAY

“We do. I don’t like your husband either. [...]

Then why do you have a big ass poster of him in your room?🤨

If you were a quieter woman, a less brave one, you would accept your fate. You would say your marriage had been unconsummated, [...]

I was gonna say how she gone do that while pregnant but nvm lol

“Perhaps we can make a widow out of you yet.” Aemond says to you, a hint of a smile making his expression turn even more menacing.

HES SO FUNNY I WANT HIM

YOU ARE on your side, Aemond thrusting into you from behind. His hand envelops your hip, greedily grasping your flesh. His other arm is under your head, serving as a pillow. For once, you are not self-conscious.

🧍‍♀️

Aemond had to convince you to get you here, and you had fumbled like a maiden every step of the way. You didn’t dare defy Daemon either. Despite your loneliness over the years, you had never taken another to your bed. No matter how tempted you had been.

DAMN GIRL GOOD FOR YOU FUCK HIM SILLY

“Did he fuck you like this?” He mouths at your ear, lightly biting. No matter how much you want to banish the thought of Daemon from your mind, Aemond doesn’t let you. It makes you feel guilty, breaking your self-imposed celibacy with your nephew in law, but he seems to get a secret thrill from it.

Holy fuck the daemon obsession goes crazy. I FEEL BAD FOR HER BECAUSE HE CLEARLY DOESNT WANT HER BECAUSE HE WANTS HER FUCKK

Aemond bites at your nape, sharply. Just like his uncle, he doesn’t take kindly to not being the center of attention.

THE POISON DRIPS OR WHATEVER THE FUCK

“I'll give you one.” He promises, rubbing your pearl. His thrusting slows down, allowing the head of his member to hit deep inside you. “In my bed, you won't want for anything.”

🫦🫦🫦🫦 but just one though 🙄✋BAABAHAHAHHSISWKKEK

Never before had you felt like this. In your encounter with your husband, as he huffed and puffed over you, you had only felt a quick pain and a vague feeling of shame. He had focused on his pleasure first, kicking you out of bed as soon as he was done.

LOVE THAT FOR YOU BESTIE GET THAT ORGASMS YOU WERE NEVER GIVEN

“I’ll worship you how you deserve, Muña.”

........ IS MUÑA MOM STOOOOPP NSJENSNSJSJJW

“I'll wed you, and place my son on your belly.” He grins against your nape, contemplating his final triumph against Daemon. “My seed will take, where his never could. He is weak.”

BREEDING KINK GO BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR STOPPP DAEMON HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS YET EVERYTHING TO DO WITH THIS ⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️ HES NOT EVEN THERE AND YET HES EVERYWHERE GUYS HES TOO REGINA GEORGE WHY ARE YOU SO OBSESSED WITH HIM

“That’s a good aunt. Squeeze your tight little cunt for me.” He grins, and you think this is it. The two of you are going to the Seven Hells.

You mean seven heavens surely

Muña (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: At the start of the Dance of the Dragons, you host a familiar face. But it is not your husband who darkens your doorstep. It is his nephew.

Warnings: Daemon haunting the narrative. Smut. Body image issues, self-esteem issues. Tully! Reader (Reddish undertone hair) Implied mommy issues. Vaginal sex. Breeding kink

A/N: I got no explanation for this. Might end up writing a part 2 if this does well.

“THERE IS a dragon at our gates.” One of your guards announces. You get up from your seat, a wave of nausea already beginning to make herself known. You would rather not face your husband. Not today. Not ever, if you are being truthful with yourself.

You have gained weight. The slim figure that you flaunted at sixteen is long gone. There is more weight in your hips and chest, a bit of softness around your middle. You know he will mock you for it.

“Open them.” You order, bracing yourself for the uncomfortable encounter. You can’t bar him entrance to what is his home too, despite him not visiting in years. “Tell him to leave the dragon there. I’ll send it some food.”

The guard bows and exits the room. One of your companions, Lady Whent, starts to pace the hall. She fears what your husband coming here might mean for you. The rumors said he had loudly proclaimed he would deal with you himself.

Your choice to keep the Riverlands out of the war effort is controversial, but predictable. Surely, no one in their right mind thought you would aid your husband install his Queen. Not even him. Not after he had left your shared home and started living in sin with her, shaming you in front of the whole realm. Yet again, no one would have called Daemon Targaryen the epitome of saneness.

You go sit on your throne, placing your embroidery aside. Your tenants are happy enough that you don’t hold court as often as the other lords. And when they are not, they still refuse to bring their problems to you unless absolutely necessary. No one wants to burden their poor lady more.

You wish they did. The days would seem less empty that way, rotting away in this castle, your house’s sigil mocking you from every corner. Family, Duty, Honor, they had promised you. None had come.

The guard comes back. You remain sitting on your throne, the one you hardly use. You intend to receive your husband from a position of power, not allow him to cower you. But when you look at the man next to the guard, your breath catches.

This man is not your husband. This man is not even one of Rhaenyra’s men.

“Lady Tully.” He says, taking a deep bow. Very respectful, which would make you doubt his relation to your husband were it not for the fact he shares his silver hair.

“Prince… Aemond.” You say, looking at his face. It’s your best guess as to his identity, considering he has a green banner and an eye patch. He wears all black, the color of House Targaryen. You stand up, and curtsy.

“My lady.”

“I know.” He answers, lips twitching into a smirk. You find nothing humorous about it, but you do not dare voice it. You do not understand what he is doing here, if not chasing after Daemon. “I understand your people… Resent him.”

“It is not our place to judge.” You say, voice firm. This man is at least ten years your junior, you will not allow him to intimidate you. No matter how he towers over you, no matter how menacing and mean his features seem. He is no Daemon Targaryen, this green boy. Your husband is the only man you had truly feared. “Only the Seven are perfect, and thus, entitled to judge others' actions.”

You gulp. You wish you were less easy to intimidate.

“We do?”

“We do. I don’t like your husband either. The tales of his prowess have been overly exaggerated. And I do not think you are too keen on bowing to Rhaenyra, considering your marriage will be annulled.” A pair of his fingers pluck a stray curl from your up do, twirling it between his fingers. The slightly copperish undertones of it glint under the candlelight.

The threat looms in the air, uncontested by you. Both Prince Aemond and you know that Queen Rhaenyra would be dissolving your marriage as you speak, were it not for the fact that your husband and her need your lands and men for her war. Annulment in exchange for your life would be a much less cruel punishment than whatever they are cooking.

If you were a quieter woman, a less brave one, you would accept your fate. You would say your marriage had been unconsummated, that you will aid your new sovereign and your ex-husband in their war. But you won’t leave your people to their tender care. With the privileged position your lands have, they are also in the privileged position to be amongst the first to burn.

You are not so craven as to save your life in exchange for the ones of your subjects. Hence, neutrality. Hoping it will spare you. All of you.

“Do you think I want to still be married to him? After all this?” It is not enough, you see it now. With the green banner inside your hall, with the one eyed prince himself sent to rally you behind their cause. Neutrality won’t save you. You need to resist Daemon, not just sit praying he won’t attack you. The Seven know he has no such qualms.

“Perhaps we can make a widow out of you yet.” Aemond says to you, a hint of a smile making his expression turn even more menacing.

Tasting freedom on the tip of your tongue for the first time in years, you smile back.

How could you be, when he had practically begged for entrance to your bed? He wanted you, and the thought of that was as thrilling as it was foreign. You hadn't broken your marriage vows ever since you took them. No man had dared voice interest, considering who your husband was.

When you had seen Aemond, you weren’t planning to, either. He was your good nephew, Daemon’s family. It was utterly scandalous, yet here you were.

You weren’t too sure how you had ended up into this predicament, though. One second the two of you had been making plans, your Lord Commander eager to be at his service, and the next, Aemond was crowding you against a wall and kissing you with unparalleled hunger. Your doubts had been quieted by his warm hands and eager mouth, as he forced you to writhe on his arms and try to divest him of his clothes. Perhaps he had carried you to your room then. You can’t remember, you just hope no one saw you.

You don’t have the heart to tell him Daemon and you have only gone to bed together once. The night of your wedding.

You stay silent. His hand slides over your stomach, down to your mound. A single, long finger, slips through your folds and starts to rub circles on your pearl.

“Did my uncle ever make you peak?” Aemond asks you, still rubbing those maddening circles. You can’t think. All that is on your mind is a cloud of pleasure, warm and shameful. You shouldn’t be in bed with Daemon’s nephew. Nor should you be breaking your vows.

Aemond bites at your nape, sharply. Just like his uncle, he doesn’t take kindly to not being the center of attention.

“I asked you a question.”

“No.” You tell him, closing your eyes. Your face burns with your shame. Perhaps it is the embarrassment at your husband hating your bed so much he never visited It any longer, or perhaps it is the fact that you are breaking a vow you had really believed in. But Aemond doesn’t seem to like it, pressing soft kisses into your shoulder in an attempt to relax you.

“I'll give you one.” He promises, rubbing your pearl. His thrusting slows down, allowing the head of his member to hit deep inside you. “In my bed, you won't want for anything.”

The way he says it startles you. Dark, possessive. As if he doesn’t intend to let you go after one night, as if he intends to keep you.

“I don't belong in your bed.” You moan, trying to resist the pleasure that seems so sinful in your eyes. You clench around him despite it, not wanting him to leave your body. His free hand, the one serving as your pillow, grabs at your hair, the auburn mane as a bracelet in his pale arm. The pain of the tug only heightens your pleasure, making your body soar above the wave that threatens to crash and drag you under on the pools of hedonism.

But Aemond. Aemond stares at you, proud of how you unravel in his arms. He encourages you to do it, taking great delight in watching you fall apart.

“You do. With your gorgeous hair and your delicious cunt, I won't allow you to go elsewhere. You are a gift from the Mother herself.” He whispers, darkly. “I’ll worship you how you deserve, Muña.”

The last word seems to amuse him greatly, for it prompts a chuckle out of him. It’s an odd sound to hear coming from him. He seemed the kind who took himself too seriously. He licks at the shell of your ear, at your face, slobbering all over you.

It should disgust you, yet you can’t help but sigh in his arms. Surrender tastes cloyingly sweet in your mouth.

“I… Married.” You repeat, trying to get Aemond to see reason. You claw at his hands, trying to stop him from bringing you this overwhelming ecstasy that makes your body tense, and your thighs quiver. Your mind feels foggy, your wit reduced to half whimpers and softly spoken words.

“I'll wed you, and place my son on your belly.” He grins against your nape, contemplating his final triumph against Daemon. “My seed will take, where his never could. He is weak.”

“I am already married.” You repeat, a bit more firmly. Aemond laughs, rubbing at your pearl once more.

“Shhh, quiet. Quiet, Muña.” He whispers, pulling you to lie under him. He enters you in a single thrust, not giving you a moment of respite. You cry out, nails raking down his back. “I'll kill him. He is just an old man.”

You mutter something. Maybe a reply. Your lips move, incoherent, and you are screaming, the wave of pleasure finally crashing and pulling you under.

“That’s a good aunt. Squeeze your tight little cunt for me.” He grins, and you think this is it. The two of you are going to the Seven Hells.

#GIRL I LOVE THIS SO MUCH MY BRAIN IS ON FIREEEE #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #daemon fanfic

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khajiit-journal · 1 month ago

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Loredas, Morning Star 04, 2025

Dream interpretation first!

One dream, scattered things I remember.

I was platonically "courting" this man, and I was learning Japanese for him. Which I am actually kinda learning Japanese but very poorly so far lol.

I was at this recurrent horse ranch, and helping tend to the horses. The horses were... a bit malformed, though, they didn't look very good or healthy. Kinda like a horse just poorly drawn and brought to life.

Me and my dad switched phones but his phone was a very convoluted machine I could not figure out.

I had impulse bought this perfume.

What all this means? I dunno. I'm a bit tired at the time of writing this, and I'm a bit stumped on what this dream means. Might have to do a tarot reading for it.

— ☆ —

So, I've been thinking about the question of "Where do the Gods come from?" I think it's important for any deity worshiper to have a personal answer. And my answer, personally, is that they pre-date humanity by eons. Humanity did not exist when the Gods came to be. Perhaps they even existed before the Universe did. Gods are truly magnificent.

I still firmly believe that our relationship to the Gods is mutually beneficial. They help us because what we give benefits Them. They love our offerings, our devotion, our worship. It provides for Them in ways that They enjoy.

I love hearing how other people feel about this. It's fun. I just figure I'd talk about it a little bit!

I had déjà vu during my first reading of the day today. Nothing big happened today, so I think it's safe to assume it's just the "your readings account is doing good!" I theorized before on my main. Which might be big? Like. it helps sponsor my readings and could lead to a paid reading down the road.

Speaking of my readings, I need to decide if/when I want to sell the G-Witch reading and for how much. Way less than the Grand Tableau, that's for sure, because it doesn't take me much time, it's a much quicker read.

Let's see... what else did I do today? Not much. Took a nap. Chilled. Did the readings for the day. How many did I finish today, actually? 5. I might have to stop for the night actually at this point. I think I'm tuckered out. I can only do so many before I get tired of doing the same thing over and over, hence why fishing a bit for some other requests to do after I finish the ones before that.

I did buy a sitting peacock plushie. for Lucifer. Lucifer received it and is happy with Their new gift from what I can tell! Which makes me happy! Because I love spoiling Them.

The spirit haunting me didn't bug me today, except for showing up before leaving while I was out of the house. Which makes me happy. I don't want to deal with them. But it is a bit surprising because out and about is where I'm most vulnerable. I talked to my guardian angel about it who essentially said that now he wants to make peace, but me and my guardian angel both know it's too late. Especially because all the times I've offered an olive branch, he took it and broke it in front of me.

But, I'll probably try once more to talk it out before I do the shadow realming. But he's still getting shadow realmed and kicked out permanently, I'm not giving him a position in my life. I'm only giving him a chance to talk so I can learn why the fuck he's doing this to me, but then he's getting yeeted. I'm really, really not willing to welcome him into my life after tormenting me for six months, even if he wants to, and it doesn't matter his reasons.

I just prefer to be diplomatic where possible, because it can mean things go smoother in the end. So things can end in a much easier way and my banishing has a higher chance of working proper, especially if his goal means he might conscript other spirits into it, if that's even a thing spirits do, I dunno.

If we can talk it out and he agrees to leave, that's great, but I'm still doing everything I can to make sure he doesn't return if/when he changes his mind. He's proven he wants to hurt me and has proven that he is stubborn. I don't know why he wants to talk to me now, my best guess is my guardians have been able to speak to him, but my guardians aren't giving me very many details.

Whatever is learned probably won't be posted in depth on Tumblr. That's for my personal books.

I actually really wonder how this all affects my servitors, alongside the 40 Servants that I employ when I need a specific one. The Opposer (40 Servants) helps alert me when Lemon Guy shows up, and helps my guardians kick him out.

My personal servitors seem to be being fed despite offerings being stolen, which is a good thing. Because I feed them on literal food, which they share amongst themselves. It seems to be enough to feed them, and they know to ask if they need more in which I feed them through the light of the sun. I'd kinda like to maybe make their sigils on metal but their sigils are a bit harder for me to recreate digitally.

I was thinking that when it comes time to make another amulet, because I'll need to at some point probably, I'll use one crepe myrtle stick and one rose bush stick. I have both available to me, including a cedar tree, a pear(?) tree, an almond(?) tree, and dogwood trees. The dogwood would be harder to harvest from for me because it's on public property, whereas the rest are on mine.

But crepe myrtle means regeneration and rebirth, and the concept of rebirth has always been important to me. They also bring understanding. So attach them to a rose bush for proper protection (because of the thorns!), and you get a really potent sounding amulet.

I have to think on it - It might make it worse if they aren't the same energy, so test would have to be performed. I could make a secondary amulet, and even a third with just crepe myrtle, I have multiple carabiners now in each a different color so I can tell them apart by color coding. Rose/Rose is on the black carabiner for example. I have four carabiners available to me, but I don't really wanna use the cedar, pear, or almond at this time, especially because I don't really know what they do.

I didn't even realize there was a cedar, because it's growing on the other side of the fence at the far end of the yard, but it's definitely a cedar. Having access to an evergreen is great for me.

I looked it up and cedar would be another great choice... aaaaaugh I only have so many carabiner colorssssss. I could always use the yarn to tell it apart, but then I need to buy or ask to borrow yarn that's not being used from someone who has yarn.

I'll have to decide later when I'm less in a "oooo let's do everything that sounds cool!" state. I need to experiment to see if meshing crepe and rose together even works. (Granted, I can always wear multiple amulets, I have multiple belt loops)

I did hang up my astrology garland today. Azura seems happy with it. That's good, that makes me happy. It's a good offering, even if Azura isn't one of my Main Dudes. I still appreciate Her and everything, I want Her in my life.

Okay... I think that's all I have to say. Goodnight. Even though I won't be in bed for a moment.

#date: 01.04.25 #includes: dream interpretation #includes: prophetic stuff #includes: spell chatter #includes: cartomancy and etc #includes: energyforms #entity: lucifer #entity: azura #entity: guardian angel

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hartshorn-and-isinglass · 3 months ago

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I love that multiple people tagged my last Dracula Daily shitpost with "Jonathan Harker". That might be the last character from the novel anyone would normally associate me with, LOL.

Also been fun to see people bring up that being completely banished from God's sight goes against Catholic teaching, just because that calls to mind the way in which the vampire panic of the 18th century was a problem for the Catholic Church. The existence of vampires kind of breaks the world-building the Church had been doing, because you're not supposed to get resurrected like that and demons aren't supposed to have this much power or else humans are 100% fucked. Hence why Calmet felt obliged to write a whole-ass essay dissecting the vampire problem.

Anyway.

I am trying my luck with eggs and cottage cheese today. The eggs went well; the cottage cheese might be a little more contentious on the way through, we'll see. Also, I can finally get back to that bag of candy corn that I only got a chance to start on Thursday. The waist cincher is okay so far (it's basically an underbust corset on my short torso) but we'll see how things go later in the week. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to help smooth out the jacket. The jacket is passable in its current state; stretch goals (or something to do while I'm procrastinating finishing the earrings) are to install shoulder pads to try and smooth out the creases that perpetually plague this thing.

#personal

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years ago

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Pink Scarf - PART 9 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: SEXXX. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 3k

A/N: Babies, I got some fluff and smut for y'all today! Don't know what else to say about it other than it's a bit sweet, a bit smutty, and a bit indulgent (but for good reasons, I promise).

Thank you for patience and sweet messages as I struggled a bit to get this out due to my stupid neck/back pain. I'm doing better, but am trying not to re-aggravate things, so the writing is still gonna be a bit slow going forward!

Once again, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments are giving me LIFE. I'm just so happy that I can bring a little joy (and lust) into your lives! This story (and EP) has taken over my heart and soul, so for those of you still with me, and to all the newcomers, I'm sending you all the love! And I promise there's more good stuff coming ahead, complete with more smut, angst, and tension.

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks since now I know how they work lol)! I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues.

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

Those pesky butterflies are back, fluttering with excitement and a little fear in your stomach. You want more than anything to surrender yourself to the utter happiness and optimism that is rolling off Elvis in waves. His eyes dance with joy at your agreement to try out his plan, to have you become the newest part of his production here in Vegas. Or at least train to do so. You can’t think past that piece right now, not with the way he is looking at you with such unbridled care.

You want to drink in the feeling, to let it break over you and wash away all the doubt and anger and fear that threatens to overtake you. You need him to banish all that in a way that only he can do. And Elvis, somehow deeply attuned to your feelings even though they are unspoken, seems to know this. He pulls you close, resting his forehead upon yours, drawing you up into his arms. The warmth of him radiates around you, comforting your raw nerves, taking you off the roller coaster of emotion that you’ve been stuck on.

Your palm rests over his heart, the silky fabric soft and warm as his heart pounds rhythmically in his chest. Your other hand clings to the back of his neck, as if he is a life preserver that is keeping you from drowning within your own thoughts.

When he kisses you now, it’s as light as air, his full lips wisping over yours, as if calling you to join him. And you do. You match his lightness, his barely-there kisses, and you feel yourself being pulled away from all those scary thoughts, from all the ways life has scorned you in the last decade. It’s as if his innate power can just draw it out of you, throwing it all to the wayside.

His lips begin ghosting over your cheeks, eliminating the drying streaks of tears that had been forming there, erasing your sadness. Those lips find your jaw, but they are unhurried, undemanding. They are not asking anything of you other than your presence.

You sigh, almost more with relief than pleasure, relief that the weight is being taken off your shoulders. In this moment, for the first time, you actually believe that Elvis is going to take care of you, that he has your best interests at heart, and that he wants to be with you enough to move mountains. And that fills you with calm, a kind of peace that you didn’t know you’d been missing.

Elvis finds your mouth again, more gentle and sweet than he’s ever been with you. He coaxes you open, so softly and gradually you barely realize how taken you are with him. His hands wind around you, into your hair, but it is not frantic; no, you have all the time in the world.

Kissing him like this is spellbinding. You begin to explore him the way he is exploring you, as if memorizing every touch, every reaction, the ebb and flow of something beyond the pure desire that had defined your first few times together. You find yourself climbing into his lap, straddling his hips, in order to get closer to him. Circling your arms around his neck, your fingers comb through his hair, and his head falls back into them. His eyes flutter closed, but it is not purely sexual—it’s more of him finding comfort in the way you are touching him, almost like a cat being scratched. He succumbs to this as you massage his scalp, the dark strands surrounding your fingers. His hair is so surprisingly fine and soft and there is just so much of it that you can’t help but enjoy the feeling.

His hands are warm on your back, pulling you into him as you kiss his face—those beautiful long lashes, the straight bridge of his nose, those ridiculously high cheekbones—and when your lips reach his again, they are perfectly content to stay there as long as possible. Warmth is glowing in your belly, but it is something entirely different than what you’ve experienced with him before.

You aren’t sure how long you spend just making out there, as both of you are so content in each other that it could be minutes or hours. His mouth explores you as much as yours explores him. He drifts down your neck, your pulse fluttering under his lips before they fall down to your collarbone. He lingers there a while, nipping and peppering kisses across your chest as your arms wrap around his head.

Somewhere along the way, the flames in your belly begin to ignite in earnest, his hands more definitively coming to your waist, his mouth becoming hot as it begins to drag across your skin. Though your need for him is now more palpable, it is still unhurried because for once, you are in no rush.

When Elvis’ hands drift to your breasts, thumbing the hard buds of your nipples, cupping the weight in his palms, your tongue becomes needy in his mouth. You want more of him now, raising up on your knees so his mouth is near your chest. He understands fully, kissing first over the silk of your nightgown, then slowly pulling the straps over your shoulders. His lips follow behind the fabric as it slides down, lapping at your bare skin until you are exposed to him.

As his tongue circles your nipple, you feel it zing straight to your core. He suckles a moment before showering the other with the same attention, and you sigh openly, relishing the feeling of his attention. He does not linger to long in any one spot, however, his mouth working its way back to your lips, but now his kiss is deeper, hungrier.

Lowering back into his lap, you feel his burgeoning hardness against your core and it fills you with expectation. You respond by rolling your hips over him, your heat obvious through the lacy panties he bought for you. He cannot quite fully hold back the strangled groan that emanates from his throat. His jaw clenches and his hands grip your hips firmly, stilling them.

You can feel him growing beneath you, but he stops moving, stopping to look deeply into your eyes. What you find there is so much more than heat: it’s deep and endless but does not frighten you the way it should, no, instead you let yourself be pulled into the azure blue. It takes your breath away—he takes your breath away, the way he looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars, how seriously he regards you now even though you know he wants you as badly as you want him.

This is different. This is more of him than you ever expected or anticipated.

Your heart skips in your chest, fluttering quickly along with the heat-coated butterflies in your stomach. Before you can grasp too deeply at what it all might mean, Elvis smoothly rolls you beneath him, kissing you deep but sweet. He takes his time making his way down your sun-kissed skin, laying his long body on its side next to yours as he works his head all the way down to your feet.

You gasp and wiggle at the tickle you feel when he kisses each toe, which seems to absolutely delight him based on that quintessentially Elvis grin that spreads wide across his face. It’s boyish and mischievous and reminds you of when you first met him all those years ago.

“Elvis, please, oh god, stop, I’m too ticklish!” you giggle and gasp, trying to get free of the hold he now has on your feet.

“What’d’ya mean, y/n? I ain’t doin’ nothin’,” he drawls, batting his lashes at you, feigning innocence, running his fingertips along the bottoms of your feet.

You squeal, laughing, trying to flail but he’s holding your feet fast, enjoying teasing you way too much based on the hiccupping chuckle coming from him.

“Oh my god, Elvis! Stop, stop! I’m gonna pee if you keep doing that!” you wail, so overstimulated you can barely hold it together.

This makes him laugh harder, that amazing peal of unbridled joy that when he gets going makes everyone laugh with him. He does stop torturing your feet, but now you are laughing at him laughing at you until both of you are sniffling and gasping for breath.

“Oh, god!” he hiccups, “Please don’t do that!” Then he snorts, making him laugh even more, sending you into another fit of giggles.

You haven’t laughed this much or this hard in a long time and it releases something from you, though you’re not sure exactly what, but as you wipe the tears of laughter from your eyes, you feel lighter. Watching his beautiful joyfulness fills you with the same.

Every time he looks at you, he starts laughing again, which sends you into hysterics all over again. Eventually, the hilarity begins to abate as you both calm down, though he has to cover his eyes and not look at you for a while in order to do so.

Finally, silence falls between you, and you can look at each other without falling apart. He leans on his side, head near your thigh, leaning on one hand, while the other trails up your leg. You jump a little at the sensation of his fingertips, senses still heightened from his teasing, but quickly your feelings shift, tendrils of heat following his hand as he gets closer to the place you yearn for him most.

However, Elvis is patient tonight, and runs his hand up and down your leg again and again, seeming to commit every inch of you to memory. Smoldering embers light into flames when he finally lifts your nightie and reaches his hand under the waistband of your panties, fingers dancing, exploring every part of you. He is eager, curious, but not demanding.

Your thighs slide open with a breathless sigh. He watches you, carefully marking each response as he rubs featherlight circles over your clit and then runs those long fingers up and down through your increasingly slick folds. He truly plays with you, taking his time, exploring, as you hum and your eyes flutter closed. You relish in all the sensations, your hips beginning to move with him. He dips a finger in and out of your pussy, but never long or deep enough to satisfy you. It’s as if you are his instrument and he is tuning you, discovering all the ways he can play you to get the sound he wants.

A gradual heat builds in your core, yearning for more, your body swathed in warmth. You are following his lead, even though your need for him is becoming almost unbearable. When he finally pulls your now-soaked panties down and off your legs and turns you on your side so he can begin lapping at your clit, you moan fully, desperate for anything he has to give you.

Still, Elvis remains steadfastly unhurried while his mouth lavishes attention on you, working you up slowly. He begins with soft kisses and the gentle tonguing of that sensitive bundle of nerves. You cannot stop the slow roll of your hips into his mouth, so he wraps an arm around each thigh in order to control you. This action in itself, him encompassing you, guiding your hips in the way he wants them as he flattens his tongue against you and licks a long strip over your slit sends a thrill over your whole body. You want to buck against him hard and fast, so wanting of him, but he holds you still as he begins to devour you.

His tongue licks through your folds like you are an ice cream cone on a hot day, and he relishes every taste. Sometimes firm, sometimes light, he eats you, savors you, driving you absolutely mad for him. Just when you think you can’t handle it anymore, he’ll switch his attention, nibbling at your clit, kissing and sucking, holding your writhing body to him.

You moan fully, uncaring if anyone hears, when he spreads you open with his fingers and begins fucking your hole with his tongue. No, that’s not quite right, you think as he brings you to the edge and back again over and over. He isn’t fucking you at all. He is worshiping your cunt, worshiping you.

That thought, coupled with the burning, tightening coil in your belly has you hungering for him in a way you haven’t before. Your need for him is untenable and he is making it quite clear that he’s not done eating you out, and then it becomes obvious; in fact, it’s right there in front of you.

You’ve heard of this before, but have never done it, since your sex life before Elvis was rather mundane, but in your current state of bliss and need, you care neither for the impropriety nor for your inexperience. You just need him.

Distracted by Elvis’ attentions, all you do at first is nuzzle your face into his crotch, feeling his rock-hard length under the silk of his pajama pants. You feel him as he jumps, pauses, entirely surprised by your attention to him. In response, you begin kissing up and down the length of him, and you feel him moan against your clit, his hips rolling towards you.

This is all you need to know you are on the right track. He goes back to concentrating on your pussy, letting you do what you want with him. You respond by palming him a few times, ghosting your mouth over the tip, noticing the wet, slick precum that has already stained his pants. The idea that he wants you so badly but is still solely focused on your pleasure has you grasping the top of his pants and sliding them down over his ass.

He springs forth, and you grip his length, eagerly pumping him, running your thumb over the already glistening tip. You don’t wait, or even give him a chance to adjust, because you want (need) him so badly that you just let your instincts drive you. The scent of his distinctly Elvis musk fills your nostrils as you envelop him into your mouth. He cannot help but buck into you, filling you, his deep groan of surprise vibrating in the most tantalizing way over your clit.

This might be the most intimate thing you’ve ever done with a man, opening and letting him slide down your throat as he consumes your pussy with a new fervor. It’s obscene, naughty, shocking. And you like it. It’s sending a deep, new wave of pleasure through you, winding around the already tight coil in your pelvis. You reach around, gripping his ass, taking as much of him as you can.

Elvis responds by showering more attention to your pussy, eating now as though he is starving, plunging his fingers up inside you, moaning against you. You can’t help but roll against him, and he lets you now, before needing to come up for air yourself, swirling your tongue around and over him again and again.

Oh, god, this is so fucking hot, how is this so hot? you think almost absently as he begins to fuck your mouth, though you know he is holding himself back by the way he latches onto you and pours more energy into sexing your pussy. His devout mouth and fingers, coupled with the way his dick is sliding down your throat, nearly choking you, is bringing you quickly to the brink. You couldn’t have more of him if you tried, and you desperately want to be filled with him, to be as close as humanly possible to him.

His fingers are deep inside you now, pumping, curling, drawing you close in the way only he seems to know how. You ride his face in desperation, his mouth suckling and lapping and that deep baritone vibrating at your clit as he growls, losing all sense control. He clings to you as you cling to him, as though your lives depend on it, fucking each other’s mouths with a heat and passion you have never experienced before.

You lathe your tongue flat against his dick, moaning onto him as he hits the back of your throat, and the ecstasy you feel as you hit the top of the immense wave of pleasure coursing through you is everything. Heat and sparks explode through you with violent shudders and you dig your nails into his ass to keep yourself tied to him. Elvis’ cock muffles your scream as your orgasm rockets through you, and you are certainly nowhere near the earth as he fully engulfs you with his mouth, his tongue replacing his fingers. His own muffled cries of pleasure vibrate through you, not allowing you to come down and you just ride, ride, ride that wave of immense, tantalizing gratification.

Elvis stutters into your mouth, heavy and hard, and you take him as deep as you can, wanting, needing, him up here in the sky with you. You gag around him, and he lets out a primal cry, clutching your body. You feel him pulse again and again, his cum coating your throat, salty and viscous. You’ve never swallowed before and now you don’t have the choice, but you don’t really care—you will take every bit of him you can get.

You are both riding your climaxes high, together, writhing against each other, consuming everything you can of the other. The intense heat coursing through you finally begins to dissipate into a warm, floaty feeling. Leaning back, you both come up for air, chests heaving with exertion and perhaps a little surprise at the intensity of your coupling.

After a moment, Elvis maneuvers his body back up to yours, leaning over you with a concerned look in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says gently, his fingers tracing the outline of your cheek.

“I wanted to,” you say quietly, which is the truth, though you are a little shocked at yourself. “Did you like it?” you ask, suddenly worried that you’d done something wrong.

“Did I like…? Honey, that was incredible,” he says into your ear, his breath tickling you. “Did you like it?” he asks almost hesitantly.

“Oh, I liked it very much,” you say, kissing the tip of his nose. His heavy-lidded eyes travel over you, making sure you are being honest with him, not just saying it to please him. Then he nods happily, accepting your response.

You can’t help but smile wide because you feel amazing and not just because of the sex. You feel lighter than you have in ages. You feel wanted and safe as he pulls you in close, wrapping his long body around yours. You feel cared for.

And as you drift off into a dreamy haze, the only thing on your mind is the terrifying wish that this could be yours, forever.

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violetrainbow412-blog · 3 years ago

Text

Eddie the Banished

Eddie Munson x Byers!fem reader

Word count: 6k

Summary: Eddie helps you have a great time with your little brothe

Part 2 Part 3

A/N: this idea had been in my mind for a long time, because I love Will and I hate how his friends treat him, lol

There's no Vecna incident here at all, it's just the Byers going on vacation back to Hawkins.

You were still looking toward the entrance with slight nervousness, waiting for the night bus to arrive at Hawkins. Everything had been very difficult since the Starcourt mall fire and it had taken you a long time to find a decent rhythm of life again. Your mother, brothers, and your now new sister had gone to live in California, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't leave your life in Indiana. Jonathan had no problem with changing schools, but for you it was very difficult; You were in charge of the literature club. And I mean, to a lot of people it might seem silly, but you'd been fighting hard for that position since you entered high school and you weren't about to give up. Besides, that same passion for writing had gotten you a job at the Hawkins Post (now without those awful men who mistreated Nancy so badly) and you couldn't deny that the pay was decent.

You don't even know how you convinced your mom, Joyce Byers herself, to let you stay in town for the rest of your year of high school.

Although she would never admit it out loud, Joyce took pride in you. From a very young age you had been independent, hardworking, and great support for her, so when you asked her to let you stay in the house, she couldn't say no. After all you were 18 years old and the sooner you got used to adult life the better it would be for you.

It was difficult, more than ever, because not only did you have to study, work and take care of the home, but also because now you were alone every day. It used to be comforting to come home and get a hug from your mom, fight a little with Jonathan, or watch movies with Will.

But hey, everyone had to grow up at some point and you were no exception.

“Y/N!” you heard in the distance You saw four people waving at you in the distance and almost fell on your face as you ran to meet them, completely excited.

"Will!" you laughed, looking at your little (not so little anymore) brother. He hugged you tightly as soon as he saw you and you reciprocated.

“I missed you so much” he confessed. You felt like you might cry at that, happy at the thought that, at least for a few days, you'd have your adventure partner back.

"I missed you more"

"Hello! Do you remember that you also have another brother?” Jonathan sneered from his place, annoyed that all your attention had gone to the minor. He wasn't going to admit it, but he had missed you too. You laughed and broke away from Will to punch your older brother in the shoulder, followed by a hug. Your mother saw the three of you with a smile and it didn't take long for you to surround her in a hug as well, now feeling a couple of tears slip down your cheeks.

"I'm so happy you're here" you exclaimed. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shy girl and noticed that it was none other than Eleven, who, like Will, had grown and changed too much. You also pulled her in for a hug and asked her if she minded being called her sister, to which she said no. She was happy to have a feminine figure like you in her life.

"Mike didn't come?" she dared to ask, with that tone that still sounded a little different.

"He promised to come to the house tomorrow to see us, today it's too late" you explained "And Nancy too" you added. Your two brothers smiled at that, after all he was supposed to be his best friend and his girlfriend who you were talking about "But well, we have to put the luggage in the car and go home"

“Do you have a car?” Will asked, quietly, a little surprised. You winked at him.

"It's my dear Steve's car, but don't tell Johnny I borrowed it from him" you laughed and he did the same. You walked next to your mother while carrying some bags and you smiled again when you realized that your family was indeed with you.

Finally your house would feel like a home again.

Frankly, Joyce was shocked when she got to the house. The house wasn’t remodeled, but there was no apparent damage either. It was still clean and tidy, with just a couple of your belongings. It didn't look like the place someone your age and on your salary would live, but in some extraordinary way you had made it work.

You agreed to let Eleven stay with you in the room, claiming that you could start getting along like sisters at last, and there was hardly any time to chat the night they arrived, as they were so tired that they went straight to sleep.

The next morning you found that your mother had gone down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and you couldn't have been more grateful to her.

"So you have two jobs?" Jonathan asked once you sat down to eat breakfast at the table.

"That's right. Hawkins post in the afternoon and I'm a waitress at night. During the holidays I will also work in the mornings”

"And isn't it dangerous to work at night?" Joyce asked, to whom you had never told about this second job. Well, technically you had three jobs, but you were going to save yourself any illegal details for now.

"Not yet, the owners are good people and pay well, so I can't complain," you said, while you shrugged your shoulders.

"And do you study at school too?" she asked, now Eleven, dumbfounded by your occupations. You kindly nodded and she gave a soft 'wow' at that. At some point the conversation turned to them, as expected, and you found out about everything they had been doing both at school and work. You knew a thing or two from your weekly calls to Lenora Hills, but there was nothing like discussing it in person.

The doorbell rang as you were finishing your second course and then all chaos broke loose. It was, of course, the Wheelers, along with Dustin, Lucas, and Max. Everyone was there to greet your guests and you took advantage of some point in the confusion to go up to your room and change into the uniform of the bar where you were going to work.

"Are you leaving so soon?"

"Duty calls, mother" you joked, approaching her and kissing her "I'll be here by meal, I promise"

“Take care of yourself,” she asked you, worried, like any good mother, that someone in that bar was disrespectful to you. But hey, after facing a monstrous threat of death a couple of drunks seemed like a simple thing.

You quickly said goodbye to everyone and walked out the front door, ready to go about your daily routine.

“Welcome to The Hideout, how can I help you?” you hummed as you did with all the customers lately. It wasn't until you looked up that you realized who it was. Pretty smile, curly hair, and sparkling eyes "Oh our beloved rising rock star" you exclaimed, watching Eddie Munson sit across from you "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to have a beer and say hi too," he replied, his flirtatious grin never leaving him for a second.

It was funny how you met Eddie. You were in the literature club and previously had your own room for meetings, but due to cost cuts, you had to share space with the drama club. So it was that, at the beginning of the year, you found out that another club was operating in the prop warehouse, one called the “Hellfire Club”. You had heard of that before, but you thought it was just a prank to annoy the teachers, but it turned out that it was something formal and that it was a club where they met to play Dungeons and Dragons. You almost screamed when you found out and you were extremely sorry that due to time and availability issues you could no longer join that club. Still, you didn't avoid running into the guy a couple of times in the classroom, and soon after you got the job at The Hideout and found out he had a band that played there every Tuesday. How small the world was.

Thus you established a solid friendship with the boy, and as you got to know him you liked him better. One day you found out that he was selling drugs and Eddie was so worried that you might say something that he offered you to go into the business. You were surprised that he considered this the best decision, but that had been a difficult time and it suddenly seemed like a good idea. It was then that he went from being a complete unknown to being your co-worker and business associate.

You didn't even want to think about what your mother would say if she found out that you were keeping drugs in your house for the city freak.

"Dark beer, right?"

"You know me well," he exclaimed, with a goofy grin. You and Eddie had kissed a couple of times (nothing formal) when you found out it was a great stress reliever and he just because he was fascinated by you. Those encounters hadn't disturbed your friendship in the least, but sometimes you couldn't run away from those heart-eyed looks Eddie gave you. "I heard your family is here."

"Where did you hear that?" you asked amused. It was obvious that your family wasn’t famous and Eddie was only justifying his excessive attention to everything you said to him since you had only commented on it last Tuesday.

"A little bird over there" he exclaimed, brushing it off. You put the beer in front of him and leaned against the counter to finally see him properly.

"Well, it's true, they're here" you replied happily "And I'd still like to collect that favor you owe me"

“You just say the day and time, doll. I am available to you whenever you want,” he said politely. You smiled widely when you heard it and nodded, hoping that your day off would finally come.

You were just hoping the surprise would be nice for your little brother.

"What do you say we have fish for dinner later? I have some in the refrigerator and we brought vegetables"

"We just ate" he complained "Besides I don't like fish, you better order a pizza"

"Willam Byers, if we keep eating pizza like this, we're going to end up dead from diabetes or some shit" you laughed, as you maneuvered to open the door with shopping bags in hand.

"Diabetes is because of sugar, silly" he replied between laughs. There was nobody at home; Joyce had gone to whoever knows where, Jonathan was with Nancy, and El, obviously, with Mike.

Perhaps it was very childish behavior on your part, but you could tell without hesitation that you had contempt for Mike Wheeler. You weren't the best of friends from the start, but your feud was cemented a year ago, when he turned out to be a complete jerk to your little brother. You knew that maybe it was just adolescence and hormones that forced him to leave Will aside to dedicate his attention to Eleven, but it didn't justify the hostility with which he had treated him either.

That's how you built up that resentment and it ended up to the point where you practically couldn't stand to see it.

"Did you leave the light on?" he asked, looking around the room in confusion. You kept your composure and imitated the boy's face.

"I don't remember" you lied. Suddenly there was a crash and Will jumped in his place, almost dropping the bags that he had in his hand. You took them off and placed them on the kitchen counter, moving with mock wariness to check the living room, followed by Will.

You almost let out a genuine scream as you see a cloaked figure standing right in the middle.

"I finally found you two!" the person yelled, pointing a finger at you. His voice sounded slightly desperate "I've been looking for you for so long"

"Who are you?" you asked, looking him up and down; completely black clothing and his cape were bright red. You had always thought that red-suited him wonderfully and today you were checking it out.

“My name is Eddie the Banished and I am a poor exiled warrior who comes in the hope that you will help me save a home that disowns me” he explained to you. Will, who you hadn't seen until then, looked surprised rather than confused "Y/N the Lost" he called to you, approaching and gently taking your hand while looking at you with pleading eyes. Not for nothing was he at the drama club. "And of course, Will the Wise," he continued, now turning to your brother.

“No way,” he exclaimed, his gaze alternating between you and Eddie. For a second, you both grinned at him and it was only then that he thought to look further, only to notice a table neatly laid out with D&D items.

"What's the matter, Eddie the Banished?" you asked, stepping into character and grabbing the boy's cheeks as if you were genuinely concerned and he was devastated. Will was looking at you with a mixture of curiosity, amusement, and surprise.

"A disciple of Nuitari has been consumed by dark magic and wants to kill as many as he can to strengthen his powers and offer their souls as a sacrifice to his God," he said. You were amazed at the creativity that Eddie had to create the most wonderful plots and you fought not to smile. You were supposed to be in character, it was a time to worry "You have to contain him before it's too late and he manages to gather more of his people"

“But even I who am a good warrior cannot fight against dark magic.”

"I can," Will interjected, looking at both of you. You felt like you would scream with excitement.

“It will be dangerous”

"We have to do this, sister, we can't leave these poor people unprotected," he argued. He was in the story, as you had seen him so many times when you were little "Eddie the Banished, guide us to your village"

"Praise all the Gods, I knew that a couple of heroes like you wouldn’t deny a call for help" he thanked. You were about to say something else when he spoke again "But you can't go dressed like that" without giving explanations he went to the table and picked up a basket in which you used to put dirty clothes but now it contained something else: your old green cape and a robe full of stars, as well as a hat with the same print. Will's eyes glazed over a little at the fact that you had so carefully guarded that costume your mother had made for him so long ago, thinking that as he got older those games would become a thing of the past and he would have to 'mature' as everyone told him to do.

And then there was you and that crazy stranger you had acquired, both of you offering him one last adventure that would remind him of the happiness he lived when he was just a child.

“You don't have to do this if you don't want to,” you said, suddenly feeling fearful. Perhaps you had misunderstood everything and Will had changed his tastes and hobbies.

But he simply took both pieces of cloth and held yours out to you, making you see dark green velvet and purple satin with silver stars shimmering in the artificial light.

“This man has come looking for our help and that is what we are going to do; help him”

Eddie saw the most beautiful and brilliant smile of all on your face while you looked at the boy and he did not hesitate to hold your hand and Will's to pull you to the chairs.

You started listening to the backstory carefully, watching Eddie make all sorts of signs and lost yourself in his voice after a few minutes. It wasn't supposed to be such a complex adventure, but still, the world was down to the three of you in that room for the next few hours.

You had to admit that even though you knew his campaigns were good, you didn't think they would be that good. He was creative, taking it upon himself to give you challenges that only made you care more, but always keeping just the right amount of fun to continue an entertaining game.

“Garzag has Y/N!” Eddie said to Will after you tried to attack your opponent and failed monumentally; a fucking 1 in D20 got you there. The atmosphere had already heated up and by that point you were yelling, flailing, and making all sorts of complaints “He's lifting her off the ground without even touching her, putting all his effort into casting enough magic to squeeze her body to death. She whimpers, gasping for air to breathe, blood dripping from her wounded forehead, as she looks up at you” There was a dramatic pause and you could see real concern in the boy's eyes. "You're tired and hurt; you can just walk away and leave her to die. Or you can continue fighting and risk dying too… What do you want to do, Will the Wise?”

"Garzag's hurt too and he doesn't have many points left," Will mused. He shared a brief look with you, the kind that tells you that he won't leave you alone "So I'm going to send him back to hell where he belongs and save my sister"

"I'm warning you; you need the highest score to land a powerful enough blow," Eddie exclaimed, looking at him and then back at you. "If not... then it's all over for you two”

“Didn't you hear me? I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!" Will half-shouted, ecstatic on the adrenaline of the moment, making Eddie laugh out loud. He took the D20 without thinking twice and shook it for a few seconds in his hands, before throwing it on the table. You would swear that time stopped for an instant, as did your heart, and then the dice finally rolled out the score.

Twenty.

"That's it!"

"Will managed to cast a spell on Garzag!" Eddie announced, totally shocked “He doubles over his abdomen at the feel of it and carelessly drops Y/N to the floor. He is feeling how all the magic escapes from his body…” the boy began to imitate the movements that Garzag was supposed to be doing, holding his stomach in desperation “This is impossible! he yells, incredulous that anyone could have beaten him. He falls to the floor on his knees…” Eddie did it “and he begins to feel how little by little all the vitality of his body leaves him. The spell would leave only the pure parts of his soul and with nothing left he begins to turn to smoke, screaming in pain and writhing from the sensation” again, Eddie exemplified what he was saying “Curse the people and curse the heroes who have managed to defeat him, promising to return in another life and collect their revenge. Everything becomes a mess of screaming and the smell of putrefaction as he disappears, leaving only a black stain on the floor in front of the two of you. The irrefutable proof that you have managed to eliminate the evil and that now the village is safe”

When he finishes, you can't help but clap your hands. And by consequence, Will does too. You really do feel like a couple of heroes who have just fought one of their worst battles and it's all thanks to the brilliant and imaginative mind of the person you're acknowledging.

"That was amazing!" he says happily. Eddie gives a mocking reverence that causes his hood to fall off, exposing his pretty, crazy hair.

“You did all the work”

"Yeah, we kicked that asshole really good," you complimented, giving Will a high-five.

"Why didn't you tell me you had all this planned?" he said, now towards you. You just shrugged with a smile.

“Well, I thought it would be nice to surprise you. That's why I took you out shopping and let Eddie do all his magic."

"No offense, but how did he convince you Y/N to do this?" he insisted. There had been no time for introductions before playing and he was extremely intrigued to meet who had just put together the shortest and best campaign he had ever played.

"I'm the biggest nerd when it comes to D&D, so she barely had to say a few words to drag me here" replied Eddie, smiling at him "She wasn't lying when she said you have spirit, I've never had a couple of players that enthusiastic"

"The part where Garzag started attacking us with those flying demons was crazy, I never expected it" you confessed, getting back into the conversation.

“But did you see how we took them down? Just for one point…” Suddenly you found yourself involved in a heated discussion of the tensest moments, as well as occasional re-enactments of said events.

You were screaming and laughing so hard you didn't even notice when the front door opened.

"Okay, but hear me out: the way Will escaped Garzag’s finger of death was a miracle, I thought he would die and we would finally be done!"

"It takes more than a simple spell to kill a Byers!" you laughed out loud, watching Will do the same.

"Eddie?" someone behind you asked. From the corridor your mother, Eleven, Jonathan, and (the most surprised of all) Mike were looking at you "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hello! I came to play a bit with Y/N and Will” he answered as if he was the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's good that you're back," you said nervously, towards your mother and brother who were looking at you confused. You got up from your chair and yanked Eddie out of his, practically pushing him to face Joyce. "Mom, this is Eddie, my…" What was the correct term? Friend? Partner in the sale of drugs? Buddy I make out with occasionally when we're both stressed? “Co-worker” you ended up saying, but the downtime while searching for the term did not go unnoticed.

“It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Byers. Y/N has told me a lot about you” He smiled. You and Mike looked at Eddie in amazement, for he had never displayed such manners before.

"Hello! Nice to meet you too. I see they were playing a bit while we were gone”

"You should have been here, mom, it was a super crazy and cool thing," said Will, excited. It had been a long time since he had smiled that way and Jonathan smiled the same way when he saw him "Eddie is the best dungeon master and he has an official edition of the game, with figures and everything"

"I'm so happy to hear that, my love" Joyce replied, just as happy as her eldest son for the joy that suddenly invaded the environment "You also dusted off your robe and your hat"

"Y/N kept them all this time, can you believe it?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to play?" a different voice asked. It was Mike and he seemed really offended, but you couldn't feel any empathy. You knew that he wasn't interested in being with your brother but with Eddie, for whom he seemed to feel an exaggerated kind of admiration "He could have come"

"Oh, come on. When I still lived here you were never in the mood to play, we were spared the pain of you saying no” replied Will, his voice firm and even a little venomous. Everyone remained silent and you held back from laughing widely amid the awkward moment, happy that your brother had finally given the black-haired boy what he deserved.

"Besides, you're not that good, Wheeler," you added, with a smirk. You didn't want to get into a fight with a teenager, so you spoke again before he could, "Mom, sorry, but I lost track of time and I haven't made any dinner yet..."

"We'll order pizza," Jonathan informed you, causing you and Will to share a look before bursting out laughing. “What?”

“Nothing, Johnny. Pizza sounds great”

“I… I think it's time to go,” reported Eddie, who had been watching the scene in silence as he fiddled with his rings. You had learned that he did that when he was nervous and personally you found him most tender.

"Don't you want to stay for dinner?" your mother chimed in, kind as only she was.

"I wouldn't want to be a bother"

"Nothing of that! We'd like to meet you, Y/N doesn't introduce us to many friends."

“That's because she doesn't have any friends,” Jonathan scoffed and you took a couple of steps to punch him in the arm, hearing him groan. Most of those present laughed at the exchange.

"Huh, well..." Eddie hesitated. You had never seen him so shy and the reason why he was like that intrigued you "if it's no problem, I guess I can stay"

“Wonderful,” Joyce smiled, looking at you and then back at him. “Y/N, clear the living room table so we can have dinner there, please,” she said and you nodded. You grabbed Eddie's wrist and you could almost swear you saw him blush.

"Come on, we have to save your pieces"

"I help!" Will muttered and for a second you heard again that happy 12-year-old boy you thought was gone forever.

He didn't even care about Mike's angry look and you were too busy to notice the knowing smiles your mom and older brother shared.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to stay?"

"Of course, Ed" you answered, taking the figure of a warrior to put it in the box “Jonathan's right, I don't have many friends” you joked, hearing Will laugh at your side.

The three of you continued to chat for a while and when the rest joined in you sat down on a couch. You noticed that you were still wearing your costumes and blushed, offering to leave them in the laundry basket they had been in earlier.

"So you work with Y/N?" your mother asked, in the boy's direction. She wasn't a prejudiced woman, but you understood her reasons for doing some research on the metalhead you had brought into the house and with whom you seemed to have a bond.

“Something like that. My band plays at the bar where she works and we met there”

“He ordered a beer and I told him I liked his music and that's why we started talking”

"And what instrument do you play?"

“The guitar” he replied, again with that shyness that wasn’t natural to him “Y/N told me you guys live in California now, right? How is it over there?" he asked politely. You knew Eddie well enough to realize that he was looking to make a good impression and it made you smile.

The four of them began to tell a few things about Lenora Hills, which Eddie listened to carefully, feeling comfortable after a while. When the pizzas arrived and dinner went on nicely, with the two of you (and occasionally Mike, who seemed to be in a terrible mood) telling each other the latest about Hawkins and the rest talking about a town you didn't know.

"And Will still has no one to exchange saliva with?" you asked at some point, hearing a scolding from your mother for the term used to refer to a couple.

"I ask the same, oldie,” he said with a mocking tone, while he crossed his arms "You'd better get a couple of cats”

"Shut up!" you laughed, hitting him gently.

“Don't you want to take her, Eddie? She doesn't eat much and doesn't snore at night, we can give her to you” said Jonathan. Contrary to what you expected, he laughed out loud and looked at you while he licked his lips, as if he was really considering it.

“What a pair of brothers I have” you complained, pretending to be hurt “El, you are the only one who will receive a gift from me this Christmas”

"Now, don't fight" warned your mother, with a smile, but knowing that things could get violent from one moment to another. It was better to intervene when you were still joking in a good way "Better clear the dishes so you can go to sleep, it's late"

"I can help you before I go," Eddie informed him, taking the plate from your mother's hand and taking the rest into a pile. He took care of that and Will followed him to put the cups and pizza boxes in the kitchen trash.

“Your boyfriend is a real gentleman”

"He is not my boyfriend!" you hissed in Jonathan's direction. It wasn't because you didn't like the idea, but because you didn't want him to have a reason to bother you.

“And you don't want him to be? He seems to be a good boy."

"Mom!" you complained now, smiling out of sheer nervousness. You liked Eddie, a lot, but it was different kissing him a couple of times than now your mom and brother were trying to match you.

“And think about it, if you become his girlfriend, he will also be Will's friend. You kill two birds with one stone” argued Jonathan. You didn't have time to answer him, because Eddie and your little brother were already in front of you again. They seemed to have had their own conversation and proof of this was the blush that appeared on the curly-haired boy's cheeks.

"I say goodbye, I was very pleased to meet you and I thank you for dinner"

“You can come anytime, we were glad to meet you too,” Joyce said kindly, hugging him to say goodbye. My God, your mom was doing her best to embarrass you or maybe she just wanted to secure her new son-in-law.

“See you, Will the Wise,” she said, now towards the aforementioned, while extending her fist to bump him “Goodbye, Jane. And my condolences”

"Why?"

"Because a girl like you has a boyfriend like this," he answered, hearing Mike blurt out a swear word and hearing you laugh. Even Eleven laughed at the joke "Hope I don't see you soon, Wheeler."

"I'll walk you to your van" you exclaimed with a smile. The two of you walked to the exit and then to where the van was parked, where Eddie turned to look at you.

“Here we say goodbye”

"Thank you very much for coming"

“Are you kidding? I had a great time. The pizza was delicious and your family is very nice” he said happily. The truth was that he had enjoyed everything, but what caused him the most happiness was having spent an entire afternoon with you.

"Everyone liked you very much, especially Will," you confessed. Eddie giggled that didn't seem to be because of what you just said and it made you curious.

He wasn't going to tell you, but when Will walked him into the kitchen, he joked that he wouldn't like to become his brother-in-law and that hadn't left Eddie's mind ever since. I hadn't been in a serious relationship in a long time, and the warm reception from your family (even without knowing him) only confirmed that you were a pretty good fit.

"I guess I'll see you around"

"On Tuesday, don't forget" you smiled "I'll even treat you to whatever you want to drink, as a thank you"

“First of all, remember that this was to pay you a favor and I think I ended up owing you. And secondly, better reconsider that because I can drink like I'm a bottomless barrel when I put my mind to it” he warned you, making you laugh “What do you say we better have dinner together that day? French fries are okay,” he suggested. All your brain heard was 'date'.

"I'd love to"

"Cool," he smiled, trying not to look more excited than he should.

"Have a good trip, Eddie the Banished" you said gently, as you put a hand on his cheek "May the gods protect your path and arrive safely wherever you go"

"Does this mean a goodbye?"

"A see you later" you answered, while both of you laughed at the slip towards the interpretation of your characters. Then you noticed the short distance between you and the evident tension that had been installed, especially because you were holding his face and he had accommodated a hand on your waist.

You saw him lick his lips, another habit that you had begun to know about him, and you also felt his gaze diverting for just a second to your mouth. But that was enough for you to understand what was going through his mind.

“Can I?” he asked, knowing that you already knew what he meant. You didn't think the day would end like this, but you let him lean into you a little and brought your lips together in a gentle kiss. It was different from what you were used to, because the times you had kissed had been between smoke, sweat, and the influence of beer. But although it was different, you could get used to it.

One of your hands managed to get tangled in his hair and bring him closer to deepen the kiss just a few seconds before letting go.

“Come on, go home,” you said, not because you didn't want to kiss him but because you knew that you wouldn't be able to stop if he was still there. Eddie smiled and stole another kiss, shorter and louder, before pulling away and climbing into the driver's seat.

"We'll meet again, Y/N the beautiful," he murmured goodbye, starting the car and heading down the road in the dark.

When you returned to the house, with a huge smile and the most obvious blush of all, you noticed that Jonathan was taking five dollars out of his wallet to hand it to Will reluctantly.

"Why is that?" you asked confused. Eleven and Joyce shared an amused look that made you uneasy.

"We bet five dollars that you and Eddie would kiss"

"And I lost," Jonathan groaned. Your face only turned redder than it had already been upon arrival.

“You guys were spying!"

“I didn't see anything," your mother defended herself, but your three siblings roared with laughter and even Mike cracked a smile.

“We have to take care of our sister” Jonathan justified himself.

"Ugh, I can't wait for all of you to go to California again," you complained, flopping back against the couch and crossing your arms in a fake tantrum.

But honestly, you loved having your family in Hawkins.

TAG LIST: @sweetdayme4427

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #will!sister #byers!reader

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dotieeee · 2 years ago

Text

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 3

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — updates will be erratic, but I’ve outlined almost everything in this fic, so you have my word I’ll complete this

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Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

graphic descriptions of violence

implied death

some non-con touching

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

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Chapter 3: True Intentions

Link to the previous chapter

Every part of you stills at Nuros’ revelation. It doesn’t even register to you that Nuros wraps her arms around you, bawling her eyes out in her need for comfort; you automatically hug her back, staring absently at the sand and unable to process what happened.

The moment you do, however, she lets go of you abruptly like she was stung by your touch. It’s obvious that she’s still uncomfortable around you, so you don’t push her any further. Still, you had to know: “Nuros, why was she banished?”

You see a momentary shadowy look in her expression when she looks at you, but you think you must’ve imagined it, for she looks away and focuses on the still waters before you.

“I don’t know. You were looking for her, were you not?”

“I was.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.”

With one final sniffle, she wipes her face with her sleeves and gets to her feet. You immediately follow suit, mumbling, “Nuros, I’m so sorry about Candor.” You mean it, and you hope she sees that, too.

“I have to go,” is her only response to you before walking away and diving into the sea of dreams, leaving you alone again, only this time, there’s no Candor looking back at you, mouthing an apology. You release a sob you didn’t know you were holding back, and for the first time in your existence, you recognize ‘grief’ wash over you as you mourn over the loss of the first meaningful connection you sought by yourself. Did you unknowingly cause all of this? Did Candor get unmade just because you were so keen on getting answers?

Judging by the dreams you have left the humans with today, you couldn’t get your mind off Candor’s fate. Mentally, you note the names of the dreamers down, promising to get back to them to give them a better experience and possibly amend any mistakes you may have made. You wonder if it was better for you to take the day off, instead of wandering about the dreams of humans in such a fragile mental state. The Fates forbid nightmares feed off the traces of sorrow you left behind in the dreams and turn them against the dreamer. You’ve seen it happen a handful of times and the worst one by far was an incident you couldn’t let go of for weeks on end.

It was in the dreams of a mother struggling to connect with her child – Anna Harold, a factory worker. Despite feeling worried that day about something you could no longer remember, you made a dream that nudged her into taking a day off work and walking with her son to the park. You left her dream confident that this was a small, but adequate step forward to rekindling their connection. On your next visit, however, a horrific sight greeted you – the park that you left bustling with laughter from children and loving looks from their onlooking parents was dead silent, except for that anguished wailing piercing the dream. It was that of Anna’s, screaming her son’s name repeatedly into the wind in a frenzied search, her little boy nowhere to be found. Later in the library, you find in her book of dreams that a nightmare named Imnioch had taken traces of your depleted mental state and combined it with Anna’s constant worrying about her child. It created a nightmare so vivid and realistic that Anna had developed a fear of parks and being alone with her own little kid, therefore distancing herself further from him at the age he needed her the most.

It was a tiny error that you obsessively spent most of your free time attempting to undo, even as you watched the poor mother’s mental health deteriorate. It took the Lord Morpheus himself to coax you out of your rut. “Whether it be a dream or a nightmare, all play a part in shaping the lives of mortals in the Waking World. We are mirrors to their waking lives and the reflections they find staring back at them is but theirs to interpret – they can either choose to face that or run away from it.” He reminded you gently, and you took that lesson by heart.

Deciding it’s more for the dreamers’ sake than yours, you make your way back to the Realm to call it a day. The sun is still bright in the Dreaming, so you traverse through the bustling town center, taking in the sight of the Dreaming residents going about their happy, quaint lives. You take a deep breath of fresh air, noting the smell of flowers from the florist’s shop and the fresh pastries from the corner bakery. You’re sorely tempted to pop by and get a couple of croissants, knowing they’re a thousand times better than what you’ve had in any of the human’s dreams. You stroll to the bakery with nothing but thoughts of the buttery, flaky pastry. You walk by an empty alley and for a split-second, out of the corner of your eye, you see a tall, shadowy figure emerge out of nowhere. Your hairs stand on its end, senses on high alert. You turn to face the alley, but see nothing but the end of it, just empty wooden crates stacked on top of each other haphazardly.

Behind you.

Craving now pushed aside, you whip your head swiftly to the direction the Voice whispered, and true enough, there he was, partially hidden behind a shop corner a few blocks away: Dream of the Endless.

His starry-blue eyes hold your gaze, then disappears into the alley beside the shop in the blink of an eye. You race toward the direction where he vanished, hoping to prove you weren’t just hallucinating and losing your marbles. Whether or not you were being tailed mattered less now – you had to speak with him and learn the truth about what happened to Candor directly from him. You reach the exact spot where he was just moments ago, but there was no one in there, too. You take long strides, looking up and down the street, but all you see is a shop owner clad in a dirty apron emerging from his shop’s backdoor and a couple of cats feasting on a freshly caught rat. Still high on adrenaline, you turn to face the other direction with the intent of running back to the center of the plaza to scan the area for signs of him.

Instead, you collide with something solid, and you find your wrists grappled firmly, holding you still.

Looking up, you find the Dream Lord himself peering at you through his long eyelashes, face mere inches away from yours.

“Looking for me, my dream?” he drawls, his warm breath fanning your face.

“My Lord…” You manage to let out. “I…was w-wondering whether we could t-talk.”

With half-lidded eyes pinning you to place, he counters, “We’re talking now. Unless you prefer somewhere more…private?”

The way he slowly whispers the last word and leans impossibly closer brings heat to your cheeks you've never felt before. Your breathing quickens even more, your heart beating so loudly you swear he could feel it with his proximity. Without waiting for a response, his sand closes in on both of you, and in an instant, you find yourself transported to your favorite garden on the palace grounds. He finally lets go of you and takes a few steps back, but his mildly gleeful expression at your reaction to him does not escape you.

“What did you want to talk about, my Mera?”

Why do I always happen to see you? You’re sorely tempted to ask this, but your words falter, and instead, you question him, “What happened to Candor?”

“I take it you’ve met with her sister?”

You only nod in response, lowering your head to avoid that intense stare of his.

“Candor had escaped to the Waking World and abandoned her duties to the Dreaming.”

Gaping at him, you whisper, “No, that can’t be…”

Gazing far into the expansive view of the Realm that the garden overlooks, he continues, “I’m afraid it is true, my little dream. She has disobeyed me. She would have continued to do so, had I not acted. There are dreams who stray from their purpose, my Mera. I give all my creations the gift of free will so that they may think for themselves and choose the right thing to do. However, they can be corrupted with the same wiles humans so easily fall into.”

To say you were stunned is an understatement. If Candor truly had intentions of leaving the Dreaming and escaping to the Waking World, she had not shown any signs of it during your brief meeting with her a few days ago. It seems she has hidden it so well. You hadn’t known the dream you called your friend, after all.

“There are others like her. Not just dreams. Nightmares. Wandering the Waking World, terrorizing the dreamers.” He says darkly.

His attention on you once more, he slowly closes the gap between you. You stare pointedly at the blooms on the flower bed behind him, wanting to avoid his glower.

“When I walked into your conversation with Candor, I thought she had corrupted you,” he says, his voice heavily laced with venom. “I thought she had influenced you to turn away from my Realm. From me.”

With his thumb and forefinger, he lifts your chin, making you look into his eyes that seem to penetrate your entire being. His voice, however, becomes softer, barely above a whisper. “I should have known better. You have remained devoted to me and your duties to my dreamers. You have kept the promise you made me the day I created you. I have faith your dedication to me will not waiver. You are, after all, my perfect little dream.”

You stay rooted to the spot, unable to respond. Your Lord’s praise would’ve sent you floating in the clouds in your earlier days. But right now, they only leave you with a sinking feeling in your stomach, amplified by that Voice persistently muttering runrunrun.

Dream of the Endless lets go of his hold on your chin and says, “You should go.”

With a hard look on his face and a clenched jaw, his eyes follow you as you bolt into the palace until you were out of sight. He had come so close to taking you into his arms and finally claiming your lips with his, but once more he needed to repress that impulse when he detected a trace of fear in your features. It was almost imperceptible, but he was your creator – it’s only natural that he recognizes even these subtlest of changes. He loathed seeing that emotion in your eyes, so he will have to make a move and rectify that. Perhaps he had indeed been brash in sentencing that insubordinate dream that dared reveal his intentions to you without his permission, but in the end, he remains firm in his decision to unmake her, for he would’ve surely lost you had she revealed everything to you. The lie he had told you was only necessary to quell your already-growing suspicion.

Then, there’s her less outspoken older sister, a dream named Nuros. She could interfere with, or even ruin his plans, unless he makes a move that would transform her into an important pawn in the game he is hard set on winning. His choice already made, he draws sand from his pouch and sets to work.

***

You step into the palace kitchen, greeting Taramis, the Palace head waiter, on your way in. At this time of day, the kitchen isn’t so busy – save for a few of the kitchen staff cutting vegetables in preparation for ‘brunch,’ an entirely recent trend inspired by the humans in Britain who liked taking their first meal on Sunday between the hours of ten in the morning and one in the afternoon. Staying out of their way as much as you can, you make yourself a large cup of tea and head to the staff dining area just beside the kitchen.

There, alone with your thoughts, you contemplate freely on the conversation you shared with your master yesterday. You were infinitely relieved that you had no hand in Candor’s punishment, but after the Dream Lord had dismissed you, you had run away feeling bewildered at his rather…puzzling actions towards you.

“Haven’t you ever noticed how he acts so differently around you?”

Candor’s words in the dream played in your head hauntingly. Fortunately, the scullery maid collecting the dirty dishes drops a piece of silverware, and the resounding clang echoes in the otherwise empty dining hall, shaking you out of your intrusive thoughts.

You finish your tea, resolving to mentally block these musings out – the Dream Lord had much on this mind, you know this to be true. The least you can do was help him by helping his dreamers, and you know very well that overthinking isn’t going to do anything. Depositing your empty cup in the used dishes section, you mosey your way out of the hall into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from one of the baskets on your way out. You’re approaching the way to the library, debating whether or not you want to take a detour, but in the end, you opt against it – you worked only half the day yesterday, so you had to make up for your missed hours today.

“Mera!”

Turning to the voice and the sound of hurried footsteps, you see Lucienne making a beeline toward you.

“Lucienne, hi!” You greet her with a wave.

“Good morning,” she greets back, handing you a small note folded in half. “This came from Nuros.”

Curiously, you take the note and read it quietly.

“Mera,

Meet me in the dream of Stanley Fitzgerald.

Nuros”

Feeling Lucienne’s piercing stare, you look up at her mildly worried expression. “Are you both alright?” She asks.

You hesitate for a second but flash her a reassuring smile anyway. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Thank you, Lucienne.”

With an eyebrow raised, she offers you a questioning look. You mentally pray to the Fates that she doesn’t press you any further.

Finally, she lets out a sigh and says, “Well, then, take care at work. Oh, and do drop by later if you feel like it. Wilbur Maxwell seems to have started a new draft. By any chance, do you know why he’s switched genres? He seems to be leaning into psychological horror as of late.”

You give her a nervous chuckle. “Sure, I’ll be there. I’ll explain later.”

With a final grin, Lucienne saunters off the hall and back to the library.

Releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, you bite nervously into the apple before running off to work.

***

Finding Stanley Fitzgerald’s dream was easy – fighting the urge to flee from it was not.

For one, the dream was nothing but empty white space – it wasn’t even a room, it was just miles and miles of endless white. Second: a few feet from where you landed, was a small black spot of what looked like a shiny liquid you couldn’t classify. Third: coming from the black spot were waves upon waves of pure murderous intent – the evil that emanated from it was so palpable you were internally fighting the need to violently hurl what little contents your stomach had.

Still, Nuros had a reason for bringing you here, and waiting for her to show up would give you the answer.

You sit, cross-legged, eyeing the black spot warily. It seems to have small curls of smoke coming through, and it looked like it had grown by a tiny bit, but you deduce that it probably was the effect of the empty white space that surrounded you, making anything else inside stand out.

A few moments pass, and you feel Nuros’s presence pierce the dream. With a soft thud, you hear her land behind you. You leap to your feet and face her.

“You’re here,” she deadpans.

With equal fervor, you respond, “No, I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

Slowly, she lets out a mirthless laugh, almost hysterical, which sends a shiver down your spine.

“You think you’re so damn clever.” She bites back, animosity marring her features.

Guessing where this was going, you retort, “Look, if you asked me to come here because you’re looking for a fight, I’m not taking the bait.”

You turn your back on her, grateful for an excuse to leave the unnerving dream. You’re about to will yourself back to the waters and finally start working, but behind you, you hear her mutter under her breath.

“This is for Candor.”

The next thing you know, you’re landing face down on the black puddle, your palms sliding on the slimy sludge to mitigate your fall.

“What the fuck, Nuros –”

“You deserve everything that’s coming to you.” Her voice was cold, indifferent.

Cursing loudly, you try to get up, but the black liquid, now freely releasing black smoke, holds you down in a vice-like grip. The puddle is expanding right before your eyes, and you’re engulfed in the noxious gasses it’s emitting. You attempt to wriggle out of it with all your strength, but to your horror, the liquid creeps up further to your arms and your legs, lending you immobile.

Coughing violently from the fumes of sulfur invading your senses, you choke out, “Nuros, help me…”

You crane your neck as far as you can to look at her – only to find her wide-eyed and terrified at the scene unfolding before her.

By now, the black puddle had spread across the floor immensely and the black smoke starts converging to its center, forming a solid mass.

Right before you materializes a creature you’ve only seen in an obscure book in the royal library – with the body of an angel and the head of an owl: a demon.

Andras.

It holds its palm out to the smoke, and out from it emerges a sharp, gleaming silver sword.

“HOW FOOLISH OF YOU TO COME HERE, CREATURE OF THE DREAMING.” Its voice, the voice of thousands of agonized souls, echoes throughout the white space.

It takes slow, deliberate steps toward your writhing form. “YOU SEE, I HAVE TAKEN OVER THIS SOUL. I LIVE IN IT NOW. I LIKE IT HERE.”

It crouches down and fists your hair violently to see your face better, earning a hiss from you.

“I’M GOING TO ENJOY RIPPING YOU APART, LIMB BY DAINTY LIMB.”

“Go to hell, demon,” is all you manage, glaring at it with all the hate you could muster. Every portion of your insides crawl with the energy oozing from the demon – it is one of bloodthirst, unquenchable and undying, making you want to drag your nails all over your skin to get it off you.

Struggling to look up at it, you watch as it focuses momentarily on your unwilling companion. “BOO.”

You couldn’t see Nuros’ reaction, but you hear her scream and feel her presence leave the dream in haste, leaving you at the mercy of Andras.

The beak of the demon opens wide as it emits an otherworldly howling unlike anything you’ve ever heard, the sound almost breaking your eardrums. It’s only after a few moments that you realize the demon wasn’t screaming – it was laughing: insane, horrid, malicious.

With an evil glint shining in its beady eyes, it lets go of your hair, grabbing your arm forcefully.

“DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I’VE MANAGED TO STAY IN THIS PATHETIC HUMAN’S BODY? THREE YEARS.”

“THAT IS ONE…” And with his sword he cuts a single line on your skin, drawing blood – “TWO…” – he carves another one, deeper this time – “THREE.” The last gash he inflicts on your skin scrapes bone, causing you to let out a scream reverberating throughout the entire hellish place.

You stare at the blood flowing out of your wounds disappearing into the black sludge, seemingly being absorbed. The demon’s liquid covers the cuts – you could feel it suckling, hungry for more.

“I HAVE NOT HAD DREAMING BLOOD IN FEW MILLENIA, I FORGOT JUST HOW DELECTABLE IT IS. I WILL ENJOY EVERY DROP OF IT.”

Helpless and getting weaker by the second, you can only ogle at it as it switches to your other side and holds out your other arm.

“FIVE MILLENIA, TO BE EXACT. ONE, TWO –”

“ANDRAS!”

You look wildly for the source of the booming voice that called the demon out. Your vision now getting blurry, you hone in on the tall form of the King of Dreams, his cloak billowing behind him. He meets your fluttering vision with his – pure onyx in rabid rage – it’s the last thing you see before giving into sweet oblivion.

***

Wake up, now.

With a start, you get up, frantically digging your nails into your skin to get that repulsive, evil thing off –

But someone firmly wraps you in their warm embrace, stilling your form.

“Sshh, my little dream. You are safe, you are with me.”

Lord Morpheus coos into your ears, one hand holding the back of your head close to his chest, the other rubbing your back to soothe your trembling torso. Despite your initial fear and confusion, you melt in his hold, the timbre of his voice finally calming you down. After what seems like an eternity in his embrace, he finally releases you.

Your eyes dart around quickly, and you recognize the room you’re in – it was the same room you woke up in after losing consciousness right in front of the Dream Lord.

As if sensing your thoughts, he says, “I brought you where you’ll be safest – in my chambers.”

Your back visibly straightens at his words, your heart suddenly beating faster for no reason. His hands cup both your cheeks, but you avert your eyes – thankfully he seems to think you’re still in shock, for he tries to assure you: “My Mera, look at me. No one will harm you here.”

You give him a furtive nod as you stare into those striking, blue eyes – they’re so tender now, so why on earth am I so fucking nervous? You wonder to yourself.

His gaze hardens, eyes almost turning icy silver, he says, “You must tell me who sent you to that dream.”

Vehemently, you shake your head (at least, as much as you could) in his grip.

“My dream, they shall seek to hurt you again if they are not stopped.”

Tears start streaming down your cheeks, which he wipes away with his thumb. “Please, she was only hurt…”

The Dream Lord’s expression turns vengeful as the name finally dawns on him. He lets go of you and gets to his feet. “I shall see to it that she is punished for her actions. I do not easily forgive those who dare touch what is mine.”

Wanting to put an end to all this, you quickly grab the Dream Lord’s hand as he turns away to leave. Pleadingly, you find his steely gaze and say, “She has suffered enough, my Lord. Please…”

You see him take a moment to make his decision, but his gaze softens. With his one hand clasping yours, he lifts your chin with the other. “I shall only have a word with her, then. But make me a promise.”

To his side, his sand spins and compresses before vanishing, revealing in it a gold chain with a small, shiny ruby in the middle. He takes the jewelry and places it on your head like a crown.

“Keep this headpiece on you at all times. It is, I’m afraid, purely decorative, but it will serve its purpose of letting every being in the Dreaming know to never mess with you again.”

Nodding just to appease him and take his mind off retribution, you manage to say, “Thank you, Lord Morpheus, for everything.”

He seemingly relaxes at your words and gives you a warm smile. “I’m putting you off work until I’m certain the threat has been handled.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he stops you with a finger to your lips. “No arguments, my dream. Rest well.”

Slowly, his sand wraps around you, lulling you back into unconsciousness.

***

After a week of being out of commission, you come to a surprising conclusion: being placed on forced leave sucks.

You were bored all the time, restless – it doesn’t help that when you’re alone with your thoughts, you are plagued by memories of that owlish demon and its black slime – you can still hear its mad cackling, feel the cold blade of his sword on your skin and the liquid sucking your blood – you’re only glad that the scars have completely disappeared without a single trace. So, every chance you got you helped Lucienne out in the library, sorting the piles upon piles of new books that find their way into the Realm. When there weren’t books left to sort, you buried yourself in reading the past dreams you have helped create, noting the tiny mistakes in detail to make your work more accurate and refined. When that was over, you decided to pick books from the library at random to see if the dreamer in the book might benefit from your visit in the future.

That was how you ended up with a heap of hastily scribbled notes on one of your favorite long desks hidden among the seemingly endless rows of shelves in the C wing. At the moment you had an inventor named Harry Mulligan’s book of dreams propped open, comparing his dreams with that of the other inventors you had visited in the past. You notice he hasn’t dreamt about anything new lately – he kept coming back to a memory he has of his patent being rejected, and to a dream of his machinery coming to life before his eyes and chasing him on legs made of screwdrivers. Funny as it sounds, you surmise that he must’ve developed a fear of being critiqued for his inventions and you could perhaps schedule a visit to him as soon as your “exile” is over.

Curious as to what that patent might have been, you saunter to the H section to look for his name. Grabbing his patent from the shelf, you turn on your heel to return to your desk. You stop dead in your tracks and let out an audible gasp as soon as you see the Dream Lord standing before you at his full height, blocking your path.

“My Lord! You gave me quite a fright, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“My apologies, little dream, I seem to have startled you.”

He steps forward, closing the distance between you. Unconsciously you start backing away, at least until your back hits the wooden shelf.

He stares at you with an intensity you can’t describe. He finally corners you, your face mere inches from his chest, never breaking eye contact – until his eyes land on the book you’re holding close to your chest. He pries the book from your grip and inspects the covers.

He makes a tutting sound and flashes you an amused grin, his tone teasing you. “You’re still working, even when I ordered you to rest? You’re being naughty.”

Averting your gaze, you shudder inwardly at his proximity, your heart rate spikes, and your breathing turns into shallow gasps. You almost jump when he tosses the book unceremoniously on the desk behind him.

“But don’t think for a moment that I don’t appreciate what you do for the Dreaming, my Mera. Your devotion to my Realm, and in turn, to me – it touches me, it enthralls me.”

With half-lidded eyes, he whispers the final words of his sentence so huskily you can feel the warmth of his breath on your cheeks. You think of stepping to your side to put some distance between you; but, being one step ahead, he uses his palms to lean on the shelf, effectively trapping you.

“You are truly perfect for the role I have planned for you.”

Hastily changing the topic, you stammer, “I n-never got to thank you properly for s-saving me, my Lord.”

Grinning more widely than ever, he dips his head further, his lips almost touching yours.

“You can thank me now.”

You turn your head to the side, but he’s not having it; he takes a hold of your chin and forces your gaze back to him.

“I almost lost you that day, my Mera. I will not have anyone else touch what is mine ever again.”

Then, he crashes his lips on yours.

In the dreams of humans, the first kisses you witnessed were soft, timid, and chaste – the way your master was kissing you is anything but. His kiss is fevered, passionate, wanting to suck every breath out of you. His hand travels to your back to keep you from squirming, the other to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. You feel his tongue demand entrance, but you keep your lips shut in your shock until he starts stroking the side of your waist in circles, eliciting a gasp from you. He takes this opportunity to slip his tongue inside you, tasting your mouth and forcing your tongue to move against his.

It was at that moment you finally grasp the meaning behind the heavy looks he has been giving as of late; it was a look of wanton hunger, repressed for a long time, now wanting to devour. And if his kiss is anything to go by, he will not stop until he's fully sated his thirst, and you're totally consumed in his fire.

The King of Dreams sits on his throne, majestic and imposing; before him, an errant being of his creation, stands awaiting his sacred word. His cold, unwavering eyes match his tone as he addresses his subject.

***

Chapter Bonus:

“My task for you was simple. Yet you still failed miserably.”

Cowering before the monarch, the subject in question pleads, “My Lord, I have d-done exactly what you asked…I brought her to the dream as you said –”

Dream silences her with a look. “My instructions were clear: that no injury shall befall her.”

Now dissolving into piteous sobs, she kneels before her Lord, attempting to evoke forgiveness. “Lord Morpheus, p-please. You promised you’d bring her b-back…”

Feigning consideration, he responds, “Indeed, I gave my word that you and your sister will be reunited after you complete your mission.”

“Thank you, my liege –”

Cutting her off, he continues, “I did not, however, specify my method.”

“No…have mercy…!”

"You may join your sister in the darkness, where you shall be together until I command so."

With a lazy flick of his wrist, the rebellious dream dissolves into mere sand, leaving no trace except a tiny skull that drops on the throne room floor with an echoing clatter.

*******************************************************************************************

Link to the next chapter

Author notes:

Please engage, like, reblog, comment, send predictions, etc, I’d love feedback from everyone!!

I’d like to thank @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 encouraging me to pen this baby

Also, fellow Dark!Morpheus fic writers whose work I’ve thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading

Thank you!!

Post date: 11/06/22

Edit date: 11/06/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar - can’t tag :(

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@intothesoul

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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Needs of Pain (part 2)

A/n since y’all liked part one!!

... i think i could make a part 3?? we’ll see lol

This is the LONGEST thing i’ve written on here wow,, and the smuttiest

Warnings: teasing, oral, unprotected sex (pls this is my first time writing full smut be gentle lol)

Exhaustion is an odd result of pain. I didn’t think I was that tired after the burn. I certainly didn’t feel sleepy while Kirigan cleaned my shoulder and brushed his soft lips and sharp teeth along my neck to distract me from the pain. Why am I even thinking of that? Of the way his breath felt against my skin, the way his tongue soothed any bites he left against my skin. I breathe out flatly.

Stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of him in that context--that’s why he did it. He enjoys getting under people’s skin, that’s why he’s always insulting the way I see the world. My hand reaches to my neck, touching my skin where I can still feel his lips on my skin, tracing the faint marks I had seen in the bathroom mirror.

I should have asked the healer to get rid of them before they fully formed, but the thought of showing them to anyone was too embarrassing to bear. I force my hand away, dropping it onto my pillow.

He had acted so strange today, he had been so blunt. It was a tactic. He wants to be in my head and I’m giving him what he wants. I sigh, rolling over and pulling my duvet further up my body. It’s too hot for this. Ugh. I kick the duvet off of my legs, letting my nightgown wrinkle up my body. Strong hands could pull the fabric up in a similar, yet much more euphoric way.

No. Who’s thoughts are these? The fact that I picture the same hands that dabbed at my burn earlier today has me questioning my sanity. I can’t sleep like this. Kirigan wanted to be in my head and now he is. Damn him. I can’t stand him which means I can never have him.

Desire has nothing to do with tolerance. The thought leaves my face warm and stomach twisted.

I sit up sharply, sliding out of bed tiredly. I’ll get some air and everything will be fine. The moon will clear my mind.

The Little Palace is strangely twisting at night, all long shadows and yellow lantern light. I slip out of my room quickly, but my thoughts are not immediately banished with the change of scenery. I must be ill. Infection must have set in regardless of my efforts and the healer sealed it beneath my skin and now it’s impacting me. Fever. I’m delusional with fever.

“I didn’t take you the kind for a late night trist.”

His voice leaves the hairs on the back of my neck standing like soldiers at attention. I manifested him the same way people manifest the devil. “Air.” My defense is childish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some air.”

The sound of even footsteps leaves me frozen in place. “What keeps someone like you awake?” It’s like he can read through me. “Thoughts of me?”

He can never know. “Obviously.”

My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, he lets out an almost humored breath. “Or perhaps it’s pain.”

The comment is so confusing I almost don’t realize he’s bringing up my shoulder injury. How had I let him see me so vulnerable? Why did he seem somewhat concerned in his own way?

“My shoulder’s perfectly fine.” Good. A normal direction for this conversation to head. “It took the Healer all of two minutes.”

The touch on my shoulder is so sudden I almost jump. Kirigan doesn’t shy away at that, fingers firmly brushing down the skin. “It feels the same.”

I could scream. His strange observation means nothing to me, but the implication is enough to drive me mad. The implication that he knows my skin well enough to be able to judge whether the healed skin feels different is sickening. I’m tired of this.

I turn on my heels, all of my tiredness and irritation twisting in me. “Even if it didn’t, it’s none of your concern.”

“I didn’t realize you were extra irritable when you’re tired.”

Every conversation with him leaves me feeling petulant. “I’m not tired.” I cross my arms, keep my expression set. “I just--I wanted to get some air.”

“Hm.” He takes a step forward, preparing to close the small distance I’d managed to create between us. “And why is that?”

The question leaves me irritated in an odd way. A flat way. There’s a narcissistic entitlement in that question. An entitlement to my thoughts. I shrug. “I hoped it’d make me tired.”

Kirigan draws his eyebrows together, curiosity and something resembling amusement playing at his expression. “If you’d like to be tired, I think I know a few ways to be of assistance.”

A faint, aggravating warmth comes to my face. Not only did my lie earn me a ridiculous innuendo, it’s also trapped me in a corner I cannot escape. Healing from the burn had left me pathetically drowsy. There’s no way he can’t see through me, a tired haze has to be visible on my face. My eyelids feel weighted and I’m too distracted by my deep longing for sleep to hold onto irritation.

“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.” The words are not meant to be a challenge, just a way to dismiss him. I don’t think he takes them that way.

He draws his eyebrows together, eyes threatening to lose that curious quality. Kirigan steps forward, I step back blankly, desperate to keep enough distance to keep what’s left of my wits about me. He ignores my reaction, taking another step forward. I take another step back. My back touches the wall. I am a mouse and he’s an excited cat.

“You don’t have to,” his voice is too low, too intimate, “I’m not sure that’s something you want to understand.”

My chin raises just slightly, a silent protest. “Dependency is a fatal flaw.”

“So is desire,” his reply is much too quick. “Desire is worse, because one can resist dependency based on pride...but desire, that is something that one sacrifices for.”

Maybe if I was less tired I’d bother to interpret his words a little more. But all I can focus on is his tone--the quality of it. “You sound heavy.” My voice is as light as the night breeze I was craving moments ago. “But you always sound heavy.” It’s the wistful observation of someone slowly disappearing. “At least you’re pretty,” I muse, falling more and more distant by the second.

Something soft breaks across his features, his lips quirking. “Pretty?”

I rest my back against the wall comfortably, eyes shutting without permission. “I’m sure I’ll regret that comment in a moment.”

He stays silent, but his presence does not disappear. I can’t tell if I’m glad for it. The warm touch on my shoulder startles me out of my drowsy trance. Panic has me ready to jump off the wall, but Kirigan brushes his thumb up and down my shoulder. His touch sets any skin that comes in contact with him aflame. I shouldn’t find the gesture so comforting. My eyes flutter shut again, my body relaxing against the wall. When my protest dies out before it begins, Kirigan shifts closer. I’m confused, but too at peace to answer. Something velvety and warm brushes against my collar. Soft and warm and electric. He’s kissing my skin again.

My lips part in hopes of arguing, but when his teeth graze the skin he already marked earlier I’m gone. My eyes shut again, but this time it’s different. Pleasure and drowsiness clear me of all inhibitions as his touch becomes more and more assured. I let him test me, his mouth moving against any and all exposed skin. I don’t even stop him when I feel his hands graze the hem of my nightgown, wrinkling it the way I imagined earlier.

“Kirigan.” I need to find my strength, but what’s the point of strength when his touch leaves me so warm? The only acknowledgement of my protest he offers me is the lingering squeeze of my thigh before his long fingers begin to graze towards the inside of my thighs. I have no choice but to let his lips brush up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin the way they did earlier today. “Kirigan.” I try to sound firmer, but he destroys the rest of my sentence before I have the chance to get it out. His teeth nip the base of my neck, ruining my protest for a second time.

Maybe if I was less tired I’d be able to fight him off a little better, but I’m so drowsy I had trouble thinking before he started touching me. My eyes shut in both bliss and exhaustion. His thumb presses into my hip. Something in me stalls as his fingers brush the hem of my underwear--testing me, challenging me. I open my eyes on instinct, but he remains unbothered, slipping his thumb beneath the only fabric that divides us in order to better grip my hip.

I stiffen because of how badly I want to melt. This is bad. This is insane. We’re in a hallway in the middle of the night and he’s General Kirigan. Whatever attraction I feel is another tactic to manipulate me.

“We need to stop.” The command is weak, my voice as dry as my resolve.

He angles his head in order to regard me a little better. His expression is one of mock confusion as he smirks. Actually smirks. “Stop what?” False innocence drips from his voice as he leans towards me, expression amused as his lips near my own. “I haven’t even started yet.” My eyes widen, something that amuses him. “Y/n?”

I’m left on edge. I’m left wanting. My lips part flatly, but words feel so distant. “Yes?”

“What happened earlier?” His voice is the kind of sinful that’s meant to coax. Kirigan brushes his thumb across my shoulder, eyes watching mine cautiously. “How did you get burned?”

I push against the sultry quality of his voice. “I told you--an accident.”

“Hm.” His eyebrows draw together in a surprisingly soft way. I stare at him freely, but he ignores my gaze, eyes locked on my newly healed skin. Is he truly that concerned? “Whose accident?”

I swallow once. “My own.” He still isn’t looking at me. “I’m not exactly the most coordinated person, you’ve witnessed my clumsiness yourself.”

Kirigan is not convinced. Perhaps he will never fully buy my partial lie. His grip on me hardens. Restraint. I may not be able to win against his paranoia, but I might be able to distract him. Cautiously, I move one hand forward, touching the hand that’s on my shoulder. I hesitate. Touching him without prompting almost feels too intimate. I’m being ridiculous. I brush my fingers against the back of his palm, letting my touch trail up his forearm.

“Y/n.” My name borders on a warning.

I suppress a smile, playing into my sleepiness as I tilt my head to the side. “Yes?”

He doesn’t reply, expression tightening as my hand snares around his wrist, pulling it off my shoulder with more care than I thought myself capable of. The intensity of his gaze is enough to burn me. I turn my full attention to his hand. I’d never admit this out loud, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about how objectively attractive his hands are. I kiss each of his knuckles slowly, brushing my lips against his skin tentatively.

To my surprise, he allows my indulgence. I glance at him through my lashes. Kirigan’s eyes are shut, expression bordering on pained. “Kirigan?”

He opens his eyes but his expression does not ease. His other hand leaves my thigh, grabbing the low collar of my nightgown with such a fierce speed it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. He pulls me away from the wall in a way that borders on violent.

“I don’t know who you’re protecting, but I guarantee you they’re not worth it.” The words are acidic. He’s seething. “I grow tired of your resistance.”

If he hadn’t transformed into something so untamed, I might have had enough gall to tell him I grow tired of being toyed with. I say nothing, instead I take in the abrasiveness of his anger, the tension of his grip on the thin fabric that clothes me. I am unflinching in my assessment in the most tired way possible, eyes struggling not to shut and body desperate to rest, but even more desperate for him. His eyes stare into mine, searching for something I am too far gone to offer. He must realize my sleepiness is genuine because he soon drops his gaze, taking his time in analyzing the even rise and fall of my chest as well as the hint of cleavage his grip on my nightgown is exposing. Pure heat finds itself in my face, chest, and worst of all---core. His staring lacks any shame.

Kirigan parts his lips as if to speak but then instead takes a moment to lick them. The thought of his tongue in relation to lips only makes the burning in me worse. It’s practically an ache. A needy one.

“I grow weary of your lack of understanding.”

Understanding? “What is there to understand?”

His head angles itself to one side but he doesn’t meet my gaze. The hold he has on me loosens just enough so that his hold on me is no longer taut. That should not disappoint me the way it does. I wait patiently, ignoring the bundle of unexplained nerves in my stomach as best as I can. Something strange colors his features when he finally looks at me again, something almost vulnerable.

“I brought you here.” He sounds farther from me than ever. “I…” His exhale is gentle, but his expression is quick to harden. “Who are you so willing to protect?”

I must be really tired because his voice sounds like it borders on heart ache. If I didn’t fear Arthur’s safety I’d tell Kirigan everything if it meant his pain would dissipate. I never thought Kirigan’s potential pain would bother me, but now that I’ve seen him look stricken by something so weighted--now that I’ve seen the way he wears pain--I don’t want to be the one to give him that. I want to be the one to give him some kind of sanctuary. The thought leaves me with a desire to flea.

“Will you just believe me when I say it’s no one?” In a way that’s the truth. Arthur is not particularly significant unless you’re a young Grisha female with a desire for heart ache. “No one worth mentioning at least.”

He’s quick to retighten his hold on my nightgown, leaving the fabric taut and more of me exposed. “You being desperate to protect them makes them worth interest.” A different response than I expected.

My lips thin. “Only because it was a small accident. They don’t deserve to be punished over the briefest loss of focus.”

I take his silence as an indicator that he is considering my words. His free hand finds my shoulder as he pulls me even closer to him by the fabric he’s gripping. “And if I were to revoke the threat of punishment?” His voice is the definition of temptation, low and promising and coddling me with its sinfulness. I still as Kirigan leans forward so that his lips are practically on my ear. “Then would you tell me? If I released you from the binds of your nobility?” My lips part but I have no words prepared. Before I can think of what to say, his lips graze the side of my jaw before his teeth nip at the end of my ear. “Tell me just to humor me.”

The command doesn’t make sense to me, but from his lips it feels important. “You won’t hurt them for what happened?”

His voice seems rougher than before, “Would that make a difference?”

“It would make all the difference.” I don’t like the honesty of my words.

Kirigan allows one hand to trail down my waist--a gesture I consider obscenely intimate when paired with the soft brush of his lips on my collar. “I already know who.” His voice is a dark hum. “I was always going to know one way or another--but it’s good to know you would have told me.”

My stomach lurches, dread pouring into me like tar. Before fear can force me to take action, Kirigan begins to leave open mouth kisses from the top of my jaw to the bottom of my neck, taking his time to assault any spot of skin with his tongue that he wants. This reminds me too much of earlier--touches meant to distract from pain with the use of pleasure.

“Are you--” His mouth is now on my collar, threatening to destroy my question. “Are you going to hurt him?”

At that Kirigan straightens. The sudden lack of contact leaves me cold. I shouldn't be thinking of him. Of his touch. “I’m curious,” he draws out each syllable, delighting in my nerves, “Would you bear his punishment?”

I’m not sure. I hate that. I haven’t known Arthur for that long, and while he’s kind, he also seems to see all women as replaceable. That isn’t reason for him to endure Kirigan’s punishment but I don’t know him well enough to just blindly agree to that. I loathe myself for not being noble enough to take Arthur’s punishment instantly.

“What kind of punishment?”

Kirigan’s expression twists into a greedy smile. He pushes me back easily, pressing me into the wall with more confidence than ever. I’m silent in my confusion until he presses himself against me and I feel something hard and bulging press into where I’m neediest. I stifle a gasp of surprise and something similar to pleasure. “I’m sure I could think of something for you.” I’d care more about my confusion if hot need wasn’t flooding my thoughts and my body with undeniable desperation. “I haven’t even spoken to him.” I exhale, untrusting relief desperate to escape me. Kirigan is quick to lean forward, lips brushing my ear as he prepares to whisper. “I’m more likely to harm him because he has your favor than anything else.”

Warmth burns my face. “He doesn’t--he’s not exactly the one that holds my favor.”

The heat of his breath adds to my burning as he presses his bulge into my core again. “And who does?”

I’m not sure what he considers favor, but if it has anything to do with wanting he wins. But he can never know that. “There are some contenders, but no one yet.”

His hand moves off my hip and nears my throat. “Would it be too bold to assume I’m on the short list?”

He’s two steps away from taking me in an open hallway, I doubt he finds much bold. “Do you want to be?”

Kirigan’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning what I want.” His words are lethal and each syllable has him restricting my airflow a little more. Something in me must be broken because my neediness only worsens. “I brought you here because I see all that you could be. Forget being a Saint, we could be gods.” The sentiment is so raw it’s almost harder to bear than his tight grip on my neck. He leans close again, his scent only adding to my budding lightheadedness. “Say the word, and I could have you praising me like I’m already a god.” My stomach knots in both nerves and insatiable hunger. “Though I’m the one that would be doing the worshipping.”

My resolve is shattered, leaving me broken and twisting. He releases his hold on my neck in order to move his hand beneath my chin. There is nothing gentle about the way he jerks my head forward, forcing me to look into his eyes. Something about the look he gives me has me melting. His eyes are searching for something in me.

He must find whatever he’s looking for because I feel his touch against my heat, fingers pressing against fabric. I bite my lip on instinct, suppressing the sound of my undoing. Kirigan’s eyes never leave mine as the hand on my chin moves to brush against my bottom lip.

“I can only give you what you want if you tell me what that is.”

He exhales slowly, pressing his thumb against my lip downwards. My mouth parts on instinct, something that he takes well. His thumb enters my mouth slowly, taking in my reaction as I taste his skin on my tongue. Kirigan pulls his thumb away from my tongue slowly, a thin string of saliva connecting him to my mouth. With one swift tug, his free hand pulls the only fabric separating him from where I want him most down my thighs. His expression reveals nothing as his thumb, still wet with my saliva, is pressed against my core. His touch teases my clit, just barely brushing where I need him most. The whine that escapes me is so desperate I’m ashamed I can’t help it.

“So wet already,” his appraisal is gentle, the praise whispered against my throat as his lips brush against my neck. “So wet, so needy that you’d let me take you in this hallway and I’ve hardly touched you.” His finger presses further into me. I let out another pathetic breath. “A pity, someone like you--so painfully under cared for.” I’m reduced to nothing by his words and touch. “What I’d give to undue you here, against the wall--I’d have you crying so loudly everyone would know that I’ve claimed you, that I’ve made you mine.” Before I can reflect on his words, he steps back, pulling my underwear back up as quickly as he yanked it down.

I let out an instinctual whine. My hand moves to his arm, grabbing him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. “What--”

Kirigan squeezes my hand, a predator’s smile on his lips. “I want to feel all of you,” his hand squeezes my hip, “I can’t exactly do that against a wall, dove of mine,” he leans forward, lips brushing against my jaw in a way that leaves me chilled and melting at the same time, “At least not the first time.”

His whisper forces my breathing to hitch, a fact that he notices with an amused look as his thumb brushes against my collar. Kirigan pulls me away from the wall easily. Even the causal touch feels electric against my skin.

The walk towards my room is tense, his hands never leaving me as if he’s aware of how necessary it is to keep me distracted to ward off my better sense. When we reach my door, Kirigan opens it like it’s his. Entitled. Typical.

I step into the room, his touch lingering on my arm. A brief shyness pushes itself into my chest. I had let Kirigan touch me in a public space and lead me back to my room. The door closes. I don’t turn.

Kirigan’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Shy, now?” His question is teasing, rekindling the fire beneath my skin as he places an open mouth kiss on my neck. He plays with the thin strap of my nightgown, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. My inhibitions are melted away again. “When your breathing stalls like that,” his whisper is enough to elicit a desperate shudder, “I am left desperate.”

He leans forward, mouth trailing down my chest, coming dangerously close to my breasts. The electric current of his touch is all consuming and addicting. I press my back into his chest. His hands are the opposite of shy, touching me everywhere except where I’m most desperate. Kirigan’s hand places itself between my thighs, using his thumb to tease my entrance. I let out a needy sound. And then he retracts his hand, grabbing my shoulders and turning me in one swift motion.

“Kirigan.”

His eyes are dark, clouded by something I don’t understand but am too aware that I reciprocate. “Tell me that I have your favor.” His words are taut, bordering on snapping. Kirigan’s grip on me tightens hard enough to bruise, an assertive need taking over him. “That you want me.”

Desire, pride, and rationality twist in my stomach, leaving me too distracted to form words. My gaze drops to the ground on instinct, something Kirigan clearly finds unacceptable because he’s quick to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his.

I swallow once, courage withering beneath the look in his eyes. It’s as twisted as a spindling shadow, but the look is fierce admirational, appreciation so deep I could drown in it. It scares and consols me all at once. “I want you.” There’s something pained about such powerful emotion. I loathe and am empowered by it all at once. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words leave my throat scorching with their sincerity.

As soon as the words leave me, he’s closing the distance between us, the slightest exhale of tension leaving his lips before they meet mine, prepared to devour me. I reciprocate his actions on instinct alone. There is no hesitation, no space, and yet it is not enough. Not enough and yet I don’t know how to be closer. But Kirigan does. One of his hands cup my cheek, coaxing me towards him as if I could possibly have the will to leave him. He steps forward, guiding me to step back. I obey fluidly until I feel something hit the back of my legs. It’d startle me if I wasn’t so consumed by his touch.

His mouth begins to move away from my skin. I chase after him, desperate to keep him touching me. He stops me by placing a hand on my shoulder, a warning about my neediness. I pout, but as he studies me I pant. Maybe the excuse for air was a good idea. I don’t fight the uneasiness of my breathing as I hold Kirigan’s gaze. He regards me with a patience I consider unbearable, taking in the determined look in his eyes, my swollen lips, disheveled hair, and the top of my night gown that’s half falling off.

It’s in this moment I realize how much more vulnerable than him I am.

If Kirigan notices any shift in me, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he adjusts his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing the hot skin gently. “You are everything.” His voice is cracking glass. “Everything that’s good, at least.”

Maybe he did notice my initial reaction because I am no longer certain that I am the one that’s most vulnerable. “You’re better than you think.” I only say this because it would only weigh on me more to stay silent. “I see it and you don’t want me to.”

His hand continues to stroke my cheek. “I want you to see all of me.” The heavy beating of my heart seems to stall in my chest. Kirigan drops his hand before grasping the hem of my nightgown. He pulls the fabric upwards easily, bundling the fabric above my hip. “I want you to…” He exhales flatly, pulling the fabric upwards even more. Nerves flood my stomach as he leans towards me, kissing down my jaw. “To know me,” he whispers against my throat.

I am nothing but uneven breaths as he mouth moves down my chest, stalling only once he’s reached my breasts. He pushes me forward easily, guiding me so that I’m laying on my bed. He’s quick to move over me, kissing up my neck as he adjusts so that I’m against the headboard.

When he pulls away again, I’m left pouting. He grins, fueled by my disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, fingers hooking around the waistband of my underwear before tugging it down my legs easily, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Being so exposed has my doubts flooding back, but Kirigan is quick to fight against my instincts in a way only he seems capable of. He squeezes the inside of my upper thigh before leaning down, pressing his mouth onto the skin his fingers just touched. His kisses here are meant to leave me even more desperate, each nip and fleeting pass of his tongue is lazy yet intentional. I am incapable of doing else besides letting out pathetic whines.

He ignores where I need him most, kissing up my thigh, across my lower stomach, and then down my other thigh. Kirigan continues the pattern across my skin, ignoring any pleas I swallow my pride to give. He is not rushed by my words or cries or the occasional desperate adjustment of my hips.

Kirigan lifts his head slightly, releasing my inner thigh with an obscene ‘pop’. “Patience.” His fingers trail up my thigh and over my core, teasing my entrance with his lithe fingers. “Unless you’re ready to beg?”

It’s a challenge, like everything else. The urge to give him my pride to satisfy the electric desire I’m not sure I’m capable of bearing. But then I note his tense hold on my thigh. A sign of restraint, of want.

“And if I want you to beg for me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they charge the room with potential.

Something strange crosses his fingers before his lips tilt upwards in a dark way. “Would you like the strength of that? To have someone like me powerless before you?” My face warms. Kirigan leaves a lingering kiss on my thigh before he moves off the bed. I sigh at the loss of contact, but my tired neediness stalls at the sound of his belt coming undone. “I want to see you on your knees.” I sit up carelessly, desperate to obey him. I’m kneeling in front of him in an instant, taking in his length. The size of it has me gaping. “Open your mouth.”

I take the order more eagerly than I should, but I make no move to take him. This is just another challenge. I keep my eyes on his as I stick my tongue out before licking the bottom of his member all the way up to his tip. The sound he lets out is pure sin. I lick his tip slowly, each motion of my tongue is strategic as I finally place him in my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, moving up and down slowly.

The pace is not enough for him, he grips my hair from my scalp as he thrusts into my mouth. The motion is more powerful than I expected and I am left unable to breathe. My slight gag does the opposite of discourage him, he repeats the motion again and again, pushing himself into me until I can feel him in my throat.

The sounds he lets out are a chorus to me, but it’s not enough. I need more control, I need a way to make him beg. I raise a hand, wrapping it around the base that I cannot fit into my mouth. I stroke him once slowly, making a point as I try to push myself back in order to make him want me more.

He groans again. I make a point of pushing myself off of him. Precum protrudes his tip. I lick it off of him slowly. I lick up and down his member in the smallest way possible.

“Y/n,” the restraint in his voice fuels my teasing, “Tease me and you’ll still be overwhelmed by want when the sun rises.”

A pout tugs at my lips before I open my mouth again, taking Kirigan to my limit. He lets me set the pace of my bobs at first, but then he becomes desperate, holding me in place by the roots of my hair as he moans and thrusts into me without restraint. He ignores my choking as he continues until he throws his head back, letting out a quick praise of my name.

He finishes in my mouth and I swallow all he offers me greedly. I back off my knees slowly, throat burning as his member leaves my mouth. “On the bed.” He’s turned into something insatiable. “Now.”

I move back to my bed, laying in the same position as before. He takes his time approaching me. When he finally gets to me, he kisses my thighs easily. I let out a small breath before something that’s pure pleasure meets my core. His tongue laps upwards lazily, grazing my clit but not quite touching it. My hips thrust towards his face, but with hand he holds me down. A coil in my stomach continues to build as he angles himself more purposefully, tongue finally taking care of my clit. My gasps become less and less reasonable as he continues to lap at all that my body has to offer. The coil tightens, I see stars--and then, like cruelty personified, he pulls away. His absence leaves me ready to cry out.

My desperation only fuels Kirigan as he lines himself with my entrance. Concern twists my stomach as I consider how full my mouth felt when he was in me. I expect some level of warning, but he thrusts into me with no warning. I let out a pathetic cry, but that means nothing to him as he pulls out just to thrust into me with full force again.

“Only I can hurt you,” he demands, thrusting into me as I call out his name. My eyes water at the sensation of such fullness, pleasure and pain combining themselves in a way that leaves me incapable of thought. “Your tears,” he muses, one hand moving to wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek, “Are mine.”

His thrusts become more and more brutal, less and less even. Each movement of his body in mine leaves me begging for more and less at the same time. He continues until the coil in my stomach tenses to the point of breaking.

“Kirigan,” I manage, voice far away, “I’m going t--”

“I know,” he offers, “finish with me, dove.” His hand finds my throat, adding the slightest bit of restrained pressure. “And do not hold in your cries.”

Two more sharp thrusts have us both finishing, calling out for each other as we try to draw out the high of our orgasms together.

We stay intertwined like that for longer than we should, but then Kirigan stands. I envy his ability to do so. I don’t call for him even though I still don’t want to be alone here. A moment later, I hear him approach. I’m too drowsy to ask what he’s doing as a damp towel is wiped against my forehead and inner thighs.

When he’s finished cleaning me, some raw emotion settles in my chest. “Are you leaving?”

Kirigan hesitates. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

I roll over, the motion leaves my body aching. Kirigan accepts my invitation, crawling beneath my sheets and adjusting our bodies so that he can rest his hand on my back.

Tags: @luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy

@i-padfootblack-things

@all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @benbarnes-supremacy

@we-love-our-bandz @fire-in-her-veinz @weirdowithnobeardo @bvudzsoo @kaque @ponyboys-sunsets @coldlilheart @granillx @dreamohlittledreamofme @sanna2020 @zaynzierulez

@ive-died-everday-waiting-for-you @xxaerynxx @ralesera @tea-effect

@tranquillitymoon

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone imagine #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x you #general kirigan x reader smut #grishaverse #grisha #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x you #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling smut #the darkling x you #the darkling imagine

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

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Converging Parallels

Spencer Reid x Female Single Mom Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Summary: Spencer goes to a support group Penelope suggested after the death of Maeve. He quickly connects with a single mom who’s experiences have been similar to Spencer’s.

A/N: I’m prefacing this by saying I know shit about math and am horrible at it lol 😂 so my math analogies might be horribly off 😂 This is my fifth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- this one was requested by @samuel-de-champagne-problems- this is the request- (go check out there fics too!!) I tweaked it a little bit so I hope you enjoy it 🥺 a lot of it is confined to Spencer grappling with his thoughts- but there is dialogue I promise lol 😂I had a good time writing it ☺️Thanks for all the love recently and if you want to drop me an ask for any reason you can do so here- I’m always looking for some new friends on here (I promise I don’t bite lol) Thanks again and hope y’all enjoy 🥰

Warnings: Angst with a hopeful ending, General dealings surrounding death and grief, Mentions of Maeve’s death, Reader’s a widow, Guilt about moving on, Reader’s child is a daughter

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Parallel lines were never supposed to meet, they were set on a strict path following in a similar direction with no hope of ever converging. At least that’s what was the widely accepted definition by anyone with any authority in the field of mathematics.

My own math degree was being contested by a set of two lines set on a collision course with each other, though they were not supposed to. Logically I knew that the two lines were not beholden to any mathematical equation as I was referring to two human lives.

We were set on a similar course, only slight differences that seemingly were leading us to different destinations, or at least I tried to convince myself that. I tried every night to convince myself that she was only a friend, that it wasn’t what she wanted and I was desecrating the memory of the person I still claimed to be the only person I loved.

Logically I knew that by forcing where I wanted our relationship to go, what I thought the universe wanted to happen wasn’t what I truly wanted. The reason I had boxed us in so vehemently was only because I was scared and guilty, I knew it too. I wanted us to converge, but logic doesn’t always win out when dealing with guilt.

It had all started with Garcia mentioning that I should consider going to a grief support group after the death of Maeve. Every action I took was being weighed down by her death, whether I cared to admit it or not.

Garcia had good intentions when she suggested going to this meeting to me, of that I was sure. It isn’t that I saw no reason to go to the support group, I just knew that it would dreg up all the unwanted feelings that bombarded me enough already.

The flier in my hands felt heavy even though it was made of paper it weighed my hands down enough where I almost dropped it. I could have let it go then to have it fly away, being taken by the wind, that would let me forget about it. But, I knew it would have only made me forget for a short while, I’d inevitably get questions from Garcia and my own mind wouldn’t let me forget the reality of what had happened. And, logically I knew that it would most likely help. So instead of letting the wind take it away, I crumpled the paper slightly in my hands out of frustration, moving my feet forward one step at a time to enter the building.

That’s where I had first met her. When I first walked in I didn’t immediately lock eyes with her or anything, my eyes were too fixated on the ground for that to happen.

I only noticed her when she was invited to tell her story. Her strength instantly captivated me, almost making me feel like a failure at first. Her story of how she lost her husband was eerily similar in some aspects, especially the cause of his death. The feeling of failure on my part to be strong swirled in my gut as she recounted her struggles that were so starkly similar to mine. She even had a young daughter to take care of as well, she often spoke of her whenever she told her story, almost neglecting herself sometimes- which she admitted she knew she needed to work on.

However, when she came up to me to talk after the meeting was concluded my opinion switched to view her as inspiring. We began getting coffee after each meeting, sometimes talking for hours, sometimes sitting in silence. Whatever I needed she was there to give it to me, whenever she needed help I wanted to be there too.

To see our almost parallel lives begin to converge at first felt like someone had driven a car into traffic about to collide straight into my path. My mind would not stop arguing about whether or not I should pull away from her or not, like guilt was on shoulder and my potential happiness was on the other.

—-

Guilt was eating away at me from the inside out slowly, that part of my mind would not stop clawing away any good aspect of my relationship with Y/N. The relationship between us had shifted in recent weeks, tension invading what had once been a simply platonic connection formed through our shared experiences. When it became clear to me what our lingering stares and touches were leading to, guilt had reared its ugly head to burrow its way down deep and take root.

It had disrupted my sleep even more than usual, nightmares ranging from Maeve guilting me to the visuals of her death. The images of Maeve and any time I had shared with her invaded my brain at all hours of the night, haunting me. I scrunched my eyes up tight, maybe that would banish the images from my brain. That only made the guilt worse it seemed as I now felt double the guilt for wanting to banish the thoughts about a person I still claimed to love.

My hand hit the pillow in frustration, then grabbing it and throwing it to some unknown location across the room. Sitting up, no longer being able to tolerate laying down knowing that sleep would never come, made my exhausted joints beg me to lay back down. I leaned forward to put my head in my hands, also tangling my curls with my fingers. I tried to think about what Y/N had said to me at one of the first meetings I had attended, my normally impeccable memory struggled as the memory of Maeve’s bloodied face would not leave. Screaming internally was the only thing that seemed to work to push the words I was looking for forward,

“I try to think about something my therapist told me- Although it's difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, May looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow.”

The quote wasn’t something groundbreaking or new, though the origins were unknown. But, the words still struck me deep everytime I forced my memory to call back on them.

The words she had spoken in the meeting when talking about her husband made me want to try too. She inspired me whenever she told snippets of her story to me or the rest of the group, her story had been similar to mine- with the added element of having a daughter to raise on her own.

Her strength was what had drawn me to her initially, like a moth to flame. Our relationship wasn’t even a friendship at first, just two people sharing advice (more her giving it to me) about how to deal with crippling grief.

What had blossomed since then from death and decay had thrown me for a loop. I hadn’t been expecting for this to happen, I never even thought romance would be an option for me again. I thought that I would have one great love and that our time in the sun had ended along with any option for romantic interests in the future.

Then she came along and spun my thinking upside down, not that I blamed her at all for it. She originally had just reached out to help me, not to pursue any romantic connection purposefully while I was vulnerable.

She continued to stay with me to help despite my urge to push her away even though that’s not what I wanted. I tried hard to convince myself that our lives were never meant to connect, that we were destined to remain apart.

It took many more sleepless nights for me to realize what I hadn’t seen for so long, even with Y/N reassuring me at every turn. Maeve would want me to be happy, I was sure of it. So I’d try to let myself, no longer letting myself get hindered by my own swirling thoughts of guilt that Maeve wouldn’t have wanted me to feel.

—-

Asking her out on a date had been surprisingly easy once I had let go a little of my guilt. We had chosen to go somewhere different than a coffee shop, since we already did that often. I took her out to more of an upscale restaurant than she was used to, which may be too fancy for some for a first date, but she deserved it. She worked so hard to take care of her daughter and even me to some extent.

At the end of the night we were both standing outside her door ready to go in to relieve the babysitter for the night. I had already given her a chaste kiss for the night, even though my nerves kept trying to talk me out of it. I was about to say goodbye when she grabbed my wrist to hold in her hands. She looked afraid at first, almost like she wondered if I wouldn’t like her touching me. Touch may bother me with most people, but she wasn’t most people, I’d happily share germs with her. When I did not pull away relief was evident in her eyes, then taking a big breath before speaking,

“Would you like to meet my daughter?” Her voice was shaky, understandably full of worry.

“Of course.” In the past hesitation would have littered my voice if she had asked me the same question. But, my thoughts had been slowly shifting to want our lines to converge fully and with no fear. Sure, Maeve would always capture a place in my heart, but I was ready for our lives to collide. Our parallel lives converged into one line, with a set path forward. It may get derailed from its intended path, but we would be stronger together than apart.

Ask me anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (damn tumblr just let me tag them)

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid fanfic #30 fics in 30 days

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glassartpeasants · 4 years ago

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Like Father, Like Son

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, unhealthy/toxic relationships, child abuse, mentions of needles

A/N: This is a post based on a head cannon made by @yandereacademia which you can see here. I promise I will continue the DDLC AU but I needed to get this angst outta my system because I’ve been really stressed lately lol. Also the original storyline is kinda bumped up to fit the story

~~~

The only reason you were with the sociopath called Overhaul is because of a stupid mistake you made about 5 months ago. If you could go back in time you would’ve never drank that much until you were blackout drunk. You had somehow managed to sleep with the germophobic man after you both crossed paths when you both were blackout drunk. Which leaded where you are now. In the Shie Hassakai base, pregnant with his child.

Once you showed him the test he demanded- no, MADE you quit your old job ad live in the base with him. Not in his room of course.Who knows what germs you could be carrying! You don’t get special treatment even if you are the mother of his child. And If we’re being honest, he doesn’t really see it as his child. More like an heir. How else would the Shie Hassakai live on?

He doesn’t even see you that often. He sends either Chrono or Mimic to look after you. Sometimes Setsuno. You liked Setsuno since he actually treated you like a human rather than a burden. Chrono was a bit better than mimic. Mimic was just a plain ass.

Your entire pregnancy was all about check ups. Healthy food, did I mention checkups? It was almost every Tuesday and Friday that he made you come into a little doctors room and inspect you and give you ultrasounds. You felt more like an incubator rather than a mother, but you digress. Once you got the news that the child was a boy you bet your ass Overhaul was way more worried about you than he originally was.

You wanted to run really. You saw what horrible things Overhaul had done. You didn’t want your child to end up like Eri or to turn into a shit human being like Overhaul. You wanted your child to grow up compassionate and kind, not a stone cold murderer with no remorse for human life.

Maybe once your child is born you can teach him those things in secret...

~~~

2 years after the child is born

You were right, Overhaul wanted nothing to do with the baby until it was old enough to be taught the ways of the yakuza. He wasn’t even impressed when the baby started talking and walking! You wanted to yell, scream, argue, and just hurt the man in general. A child needs support, not a unimpressed look everytime they do an accomplishment.

You always supported your son. Showing him how proud you were whenever he handed you a drawing of him and you. Overhaul barely even saw the kid which affected him to the point where the kid didn’t even draw him in pictures.

You were happy that your baby didn’t see/look up to Overhaul as a fatherly figure. Man didn’t deserve to be called one or be one. You were worried if Overhaul would use your son as a experiment like he was using Eri.

Speaking of Eri, you finally convinced Overhaul to let you see her and comfort her after he used her for the bullets. She was such a sweetie and especially loved how you would sing her to sleep whenever she has a bad day. You didn’t get to see her a lot, but you did what you could when you did. If only you could make Overhaul see what he was doing to everyone around him...

~~~

Your son just turned 8

Everyday your son looked more and more liked his father. Not to mention he inherited Overhaul’s quirk It wouldn’t have bothered you that much if it weren’t for the fact that he started looking up to his father. Whenever your so was getting put to bed by you, he would always tell you about how much he wanted to be the next leader. He would tell you how he watched Overhaul to paperwork, sat next to him in meetings and such. The finally straw for you was when he told you that Overhaul let him use his quirk on a living breathing human being. To say you were furious was an understatement. All you saw was red.

You smiled at the boy before pressing a kiss to his head and walking out his door while whispering goodnight before your started your expedition to give Overhaul a piece of your mind. You’ve stayed quiet for to long. You couldn’t just let him expose your child to such violence at such a young age! All you saw was red as you walked to his office door. Giving it a harsh knock you were allowed entry.

Upon entering you notice that you are the only one there with him. Just the two of you. You were afraid yes, but your anger out did it.

“Did you seriously let our son use his quirk on someone at such a young age?! He’s only 8! He doesn’t need to be exposed so early!” You yelled at him with your hands on your hips. You knew if you pointed at him you could say goodbye to that finger.

“He’s going to be the next leader. It’s only natural to start him off early. And I don’t remember giving you a say in the matter.” His voice cold and stoic but a hint of annoyance caught your ears.

“8 is way to early! Please Overhaul, Just give me 2-3 more years without him experiencing what you do.” You begged him. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You only wanted what was best for your son. Your heart stopped when you heard Overhaul get up from his desk and his footsteps come near your now slightly shaking form.

“Bold of you to assume I would let him miss out on very needed skills to become the next leader. We both know that if it weren’t for him, you would have been dead the second i found out I slept with you. That boy is the only thing that kept you alive. So, from now on, I expect you to never come to my face. Talking about him needing to be kind and compassionate, is not the way of the yakuza. One more incident like this, than I’ll make him kill you myself.” Your eyes widened as you looked at the man in front of you. You can feel your blood run cold in your veins as it circulates through your body. Tears streaked down your face as you felt so defeated. Your entire body felt like you’ve been crushed by a car.

You turned around and walked out the door and into your room. Locking the door your jumped onto your bed, grabbing the pillow before screaming into it. Your tears stained the pillow case as your body shook. You felt so hopeless and so helpless. Where was a hero when you truly needed one?

~~~

The next day

You were just finished changing before your son barged into your room. You were about to say good morning to him before he started screaming at you. Shocked you told him to calm down, but in the corner of your eye you saw the purple feathers that you have learned to fear walk by.

“What are you saying? Please calm down!” You say as you try to soothe your screaming child.

“How dare you try and take me away from dad! Dad told me everything!” Your son flailed his arms up and down while stomping on the ground. His screams soon turned incoherent.

“Baby! I would never-”

“Liar! Dad told me that you wanted to leave him! He said that you thought he didn’t deserve a son!” You didn’t say that what was he on?! You only wanted to protect him! You loved your son to the point you would die for him! What had Overhaul said to him!

“Please sweetie calm down-”

“No! I never want to talk to you again!” Your son ran out the door before slamming it shut. Your heart felt shattered as you heard Overhauls voice on the other side, ’calming’ your distressed son. You felt your world crumbling around you as your son was the only thing that kept you happiness in these dark times. Him and Eri. Oh Eri, if he grows up that means...

You felt vomit rise in your throat at the thought of your own son hurting such a sweet, innocent, little girl. You fall to your knees as tears spill down your cheeks. You couldn’t just run away from the Shie Hassakai ever. The base is fully guarded, and has high max security cameras. Not to mention the probability of them finding you and your son right away. If you even tried, you would probably get you and your son hurt. Maybe even little Eri.

Your whole body felt numb. You just wished it was a horrible nightmare.

~~~

5 months later

As the weeks pass by, you felt your hurt break more and more everyday. Your son had kept his word when he said he ever wanted to talk to you again. You haven’t heard your baby's voice since that day. Hell, now you barely even see him! You see Eri more than your actual son now. ANd seeing Eri was not that often.

You felt hopeless. You wanted nothing more to do than crawl in a hole and die. Every night was spent crying over your son and how your life and gone so down hill so quickly. You didn’t even feel like moving. You just sat in the corner of the room since it felt like the only warm spot in the entire room. This little corner felt like some sort of sanctuary in this horrible place you call home.

~~~

Your son just turned 13

Day whatever of the last time your son talked to you. And day whatever since you’ve left your room. You had no reason anymore. Overhaul officially banished you from ever seeing Eri again. Your world was crushed once more. At this point you felt like your whole existence was useless.

Your days grew darker by the minute as your mental health seemed to be slipping through your fingers. You only ever moved when you needed to go to the bathroom or to drag the food plate that was brought to you by some employee of Overhaul. You barely ate anything anyways so you really saw no point in doing anything anymore.

It only hurt more knowing that today was his birthday. You had asked the employee that brought you food if he had a party or just something to celebrate. You felt the last of your hope crushed once you heard his answer.

“The only thing he got was a official Shie Hassakai mask.”

~~~

Your son turned 15

You body was weak. You had refused to eat anything seeing no point in it anymore. You were always tired. Only getting up to go to the bathroom then sitting back in the corner that once gave you sanctuary.

You heard footsteps on the outside of your door as the familiar voice of Overhaul was on the other side. Another voice rang in your ears and it hit you like a train once you realized who’s it was. It was your sons. His voice was so much deeper than the little boy’s you had once heard. It only deepened your sadness. You blinked but didn’t even turn your eyes once you heard the door opening.

“We can test the serum out on her first. She’s too weak to fight back.”

“I didn’t know my mother had a quirk.” You couldn’t even make your eyes turn to look at them. You didn’t want to see the monster your son had become. Your heart couldn’t take anymore heartbreak, You felt like you would crumble into nothing.

You felt a light get shine into your eyes. You didn’t even blink during it. Once the light was gone you got a clear look at your once loving son. A mask covered his face just like his fathers did. He looked you in the eyes and you did the same. You wanted to cry but held it down.

A latex hand grabbed your arm before you felt the needle being poked into it. You didn’t even flinch or wince. Almost as if you were a lifeless doll. A hand moved up and down your face as if to see if you were even alive or ‘there’.

“She isn’t responding to anything. She didn’t even wince. She’s breathing but she looks like she’s sick.” All that was one ear and out the other. Finally you felt the needle leave your arm as a sigh escaped Overhaul’s lips.

“Well wait for about an hour or two and see the effects. For now, we have to do more tests on Eri. Lets go.” So...he was apart of the team experimenting on Eri. You felt like throwing up. How could the boy who you raised to be kind and compassionate turn into such a disgusting monster.

The sound of their footsteps leaving the room hit your ears. From the corner of your eye you say your son about to leave before you spoke up,

“You are not my son.” You saw him stop in his tracks as he turned to look at you. His eyes a bit wide but said nothing.

“I never want to hear you call me your mother ever again. Your a monster undeserving of one. I can’t believe I gave birth to someone like you. I never want ot see your face again.” In your monotone words they’re were spikes laced in venom. You couldn’t even look your own son in the eyes. As they we’re the same as his monster of a father.

“Get out of my room and never come back.” You heard him close the door slowly as you let out a breath once you finally saw him gone. You can barely stand to see the monster your child had become. But, you didn’t see nor hear the way his breathing became ragged. Or how his eyes felt like spilling tears. Or how his body slowly shook at your words.

‘It shouldn’t hurt. This shouldn’t hurt me. Why does it hurt so bad? Please stop it. Her words shouldn’t affect me. Why does it hurt?’

#overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #mha #bnha #overhaul #chisaki kai #shie hassaikai #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #mha angst #bnha angst #kai #angst #yakuza

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moonyblackwerewolf · 4 years ago

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Betrothed Ch. 1 - Sirius Black

Sirius Black x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.653

Summary: Sirius and Y/N meet at a family dinner and have some fun, later she finds out she is betrothed to some pureblood boy so Sirius comes up with a mental idea to save them both.

warnings: Kissing, hints of sex, 'aggressive' parents, underage drinking, idk my writing and English? lol

a/n: so this is just an idea for a possible series!! i never published anything before so i’m kind of scared but i really hope you like it!! :) xxx

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch. 2.5 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch. 5

(not my gif)

Diner party

The Royal Manor of Watson was a cold palace, stone walls, rich decorations, sumptuous, but intimidating. The Watsons were cold people, living in a house too big for five people, but Y/N thought it was only fitting, since her parent’s ego was as big as the manor itself. Their pureblood mania deep in their minds, untouchable, which made their daughter’s life miserable. They were the perfect family on the outside but rotten in the inside, three children, Diana, two years older than Y/N, beautiful, smart and most importantly just as purist as their parents and William, tall, handsome, sophisticate and serious, he was the older sibling, three years older than Diana, he was already working with their father on the Ministry of Magic, daddy’s favourite. Home was big, impressive, a dream home if you saw it, libraries, uncountable bedrooms and living rooms, ball rooms, huge gardens, and everything you could ask for but it was far from being a welcoming home.

Though, all of her miserableness went away once she first went to Hogwarts. Of course, being sorted in Slytherin and having good grades was minimal when it came to living up to her parents’s expectations, which were high and if not complied there would most certainly have severe consequences, but still Hogwarts was more of a Home than the Watson Manor ever was.

Throughout the years, Hogwarts had become her first true home. There she felt the warm winds, the familiar feeling in the great halls, friendships, all she ever hoped for was there, a home, but not quite yet. She met Elizabeth Greengrass a blonde, tall thin girl with deep grey eyes and enviable beauty, Katherine Abbott who looked almost like Diana, but shorter, longer darker hair, blue-green eyes and thiner face. The three girls became best friends right after being sorted into Slytherin. Later on her second year she met Elijah Lestrange, through her sister, he was a year older, handsome and had a polite appearance. Y/N loved her friends but they shared the same blind beliefs her parents do, she’d always nod when they talked about mudblood, choosing not to create conflict, she couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, her parents couldn't disagree more, controlling they way they were, they were more than satisfied to know that their daughter’s inner circle contained only close family friends’s children.

The Marauders were quite famous for their pranks since first year, Y/N always admired their courage and wit, but her siblings and friends didn’t share the same opinion. When she was around them she’d always get a look from her sister, her brother or her friends would push her away, which only made them more interesting. Although, with time, she stopped trying and just kept living her life the way her family wanted her to.

Until summer break before 5th year, at least.

By then Sirius had already gained his bad boy reputation. Y/N had known Black for a long time, only by sight, his family was friends with hers and his cousin, Narcissa, hangs out with her sister, she’d see him in the pureblood elite parties they were forced to attend, they’d exchange glances but never talked. Sirius was once again being forced to go to some snobby party from snobby people. He couldn’t count in a thousand hands how many other places he’d rather be, but there he was sitting in a huge room full of people he despised, until a certain girl he recognised from other dinner parties and Hogwarts caught his attention, she was Remus’ partner in DADA, though he wasn’t sure, he never paid much attention in classes, pranking the student body was much more entertaining.

She caught his eye from a couch across the room. She was stunning, he thought, her slightly wavy H/C hair matching her S/C skin, freckled rosy cheeks and her alluring E/C eyes. Sirius only hoping she was different from the other brainwashed people in that house.

“Hey” Sirius said softly while he approached the girl that was, apparently, just as bored as he was, to his luck. “Not your scene, love?” He asked with his signature smirk on his face, wanting some good company for once at these afternoons.

“Not really” she chuckled, not knowing exactly what else to say, they weren’t close and she was a bit shy. But she was being honest, these parties were hell, full of families who thought too much of themselves, she didn't feel much like them, but she could fit in she was quiet and not nearly as loud as Sirius was about her beliefs. No one knew.

“By any chance would you know whose death palace are we on? I mean it’s huge but it looks like Salazar himself lived here, it gives me the creeps” he paused laughing “and my house it’s not a Hufflepuff common room or anything” Sirius said mockingly, not knowing exactly who he was talking with.

“Well” she chuckled awkwardly “It is my parents’, but i know, it’s not very homey, looks like a dark theatre or something and Salazar did live here, family heirloom” she laughed for real this time, she didn’t take it as an offence, if anything she couldn’t agree more.

“How come we never crossed each others path before?” Sirius asked wondering why they never talked on one of those parties or at school.

“I guess I usually just stay in the corners, like today” she chuckled.

The two of them bonded after talking for a while, they discovered that both of them hated these things, Sirius couldn't get how she managed to hide her feelings so well, she looked so much like them. After laughing, talking about school, Sirius was a part of the infamous marauders, telling stories and joking around, for the first time any of them could think of, they had fun in a family party, since Sirius’ friends weren’t pureblood except for Potter but his family had been banished from the sacred twenty-eight for being “blood traitors” and Y/N’s friends’ parents kept them at their side the whole time for “good image”.

Y/N stole a bottle of fire whiskey from the cellar and started showing the house to Sirius, while the two of them drank more than their bodies could handle, who was just as pleased as her for making fun of the paintings and carpets and the fancy but useless stuff their families valued so much. As they entered a room, particularly big and empty, Sirius had to catch his breath, Y/N and him started running through the halls before entering the room they were now on. He had only now realised that he had grabbed her hand, and apparently she hadn’t noticed until now too, making her blush furiously, releasing each other’s hand quickly and Sirius teased.

“getting comfy are we?” He smirked, as she blushed at his comment. They were very close, he could feel her breath catching. “Where would we be now, love?” He asked inching closer to her.

The both teenagers weren’t thinking straight anymore, the alcohol in their system already influencing their emotions. All they could think about, was how their touch felt electrical and the magnetic pull they were feeling towards each other, wondering how would their lips feel like. They just wanted to have fun, not caring about consequences that moment.

“Ball room” she said innocently but still a bit teasingly, not backing away from him as he inched closer to her “East wing, third floor, far away from where the party is going on, on the first floor” she bit her lip “But still very close to a room-” she said boldly wanting to see his reaction to her suggestions “-two doors away near a window at the end of the hall next to a beautiful painting of my favourite flowers” she said voice husky and breathy, making Sirius groan.

He chuckled low, “And may I ask you whose room is that?” They were now so close that their lips were slightly brushing.

“Why don’t you take me there and see for yourself” she said feeling a flip on her stomach and with a swift motion he lift her up bridal style, making her shiver at the contact, but then laughed, his hand gripping her body and legs tightly as he followed her instructions to get to her room. Once there, he settled her down on her bed and admired the girl in front of him, lust in his eyes. She smiled and bit her lip, she knew Sirius’ reputation, only one night stands, he was a ladies man, but she didn’t care, she wanted him, the fact that her mother would murder her if she ever found out only made it all more exciting.

Sirius took a look at the room, it wasn’t dark as the rest of the house was, it was still sophisticated, but nicer, the detailed wood on the wall was white and, above, the wall it self was light lilac, the room had big windows covered by delicate curtains and even had a balcony, and everything matched between the lilac and whites tones, she had a few paintings and pictures, and flowers, probably fake but still beautiful, the same flowers as on the darker painting outside, her four poster bed that matched the couches by the windows had delicate semi transparent white curtains and her silk white sheets were under a soft lilac blanket, she had a lot of silk pillows with subtle embroidered details on the corners, it was certainly appealing he thought, a beautiful room fit for a princess. Then he was brought back to reality.

“Do you think our parents are wondering where we are?” He asked with a still semi amazed look, it made her laugh, she patted the sheets next to her, inviting him to sit, he sat closely to her and then suddenly she went to the middle of the bed, which was big, pushing his wrists and they sat there, her legs crossed.

“They probably are” she affirmed giggly, she hadn't let his wrists go yet, she was holding it gently. “But, they won’t find us here, even though it’s pretty obvious that i’d hide in my room. Mom and dad wouldn’t leave the party” She paused and laughed “And well your parents certainly won’t come up here to my room i guess” He chuckled at her commentary.

“Well, well, miss perfect pureblood daughter escaping a dinner-party with the rebel Black son, who’d have thought” Sirius said dramatically, she laughed at him.

“Guess this Black here is just a bad influence on me, or… I just put on a good facade” she said more serious this time, voice low, eyes fixated on his. Her hand tracing their way up his arm, his gaze fixed on her movements. “And the fact that if mommy finds out i brought a guy to my room, and that he’s in my bed with me, would make her go crazy, only turns me on” Sirius let a little breathy moan escape his throat.

When Sirius looked at her she was already looking at him, lust all over her eyes. He trailed off just a little and asked, voice low “Y/N… are you sure you want this?” She nodded so he grabbed her waist and pulled her to his lap, he was holding her waist, lips brushing, he finally kissed her, the kiss felt electrical, it was slow and passionate at first but then I grew more heated. One of her hands was wrapped in his neck, the other was holding his chest going slowly lower, he was pulling her impossibly closer, the both couldn't get enough of each other. They had to pause for catching a breath, in the mean time Sirius leant over pushing Y/N down onto bed earning a tiny moan form her. They started kissing again, but this time was less passionate, more lustful and heated, Sirius started fiddling with her dress’ zipper and took it off slowly, undressing her, tracing kisses in each piece of newly exposed skin until she was only in her underwear, She, then, pushed his blazer off then started unbuttoning his shirt while kissing and sucking his neck making him moan. Once they were both in their underwear Sirius looked at her searching for a final consent, when she nodded, he took the rest of their clothes off.

“What do you want princess?” He asked kissing his way down from her cheek, to her jaw, neck, breasts and she moaned a little louder, the nickname turned her on even more. “Hmm??” He groaned waiting for her answer. “I want to her you say it”

“I�� want you” she said between moans, after that she pulled his boxers down kissing him desperately, waiting to feel him against her in the most intimate way possible, the feeling was ethereal.

——————————

They laid in her bed legs tangled under the silk sheets, her head laid in his chest, his hands caressing her back while the other wrapped around her waist pulling her closer, making her shiver, the both of them catching their breaths while he stroke figure eights on her back inhaling her delicate floral floral scent. It felt heavenly to be there by his side, neither of them wanting to let go of one another, enjoying every moment before reality came back to them, but they knew they’ve been gone for too long, the party was probably ending.

“Sirius” she said voice as low as a whisper “This was nice” he smiled at her and pulled her to a kiss.

“Yes, it’s nice to have some fun in these events, and you love, are the most fun I could've had today” he said trailing his hand on her lower back “I mean, this is certainly the best place my parents could’ve dragged me to”. It made her chuckle. He never thought he’d fuck a girl his mother would approve and in one of their elite parties, but here he was, proof that Sirius Black always managed to corrupt girls, anywhere.

“Glad you liked it then” she said chuckling while she buried her head in his neck. But they couldn’t go on with this any longer. “You should go first” she said “Your parents are probably looking for you and it would be suspicious if we showed up together” she advised “Since the fact that we’re both missing from the party is already very much suspicious” she said laughing this time.

“Sure, love” he helped her get dressed before dressing himself and gave one last peck on her lips before getting out of bed. “See you” with a wink and that signature smile of his, he left, leaving her there with her thoughts about the events of this evening and the captivating boy, while rubbing her hands lightly where he left love bites on her neck, knowing she’d have trouble walking tomorrow and a bad headache from all the drinking. She decided it was best if she took a shower, changed into her pyjamas and if her parents show up there, she’d say she wasn't feeling well and wanted to sleep.

On his way back Sirius kept thinking about Y/N and how much they’re alike, she was the only nice person he met in one of those parties, she was a good kisser too. Starting to get confused on why he was thinking so much about the girl and the strange feeling she caused on him, but then assumed it was because of all the drinking, he didn't realise his mother, father and brother were waiting for him in the foyer and their faces weren’t kind, he knew it’d be a long night back home. But he didn’t care his only thoughts were about going back to Hogwarts and seeing her again.

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itsallagatha · 4 years ago

Text

Part 2

Agnes(Agatha) x OFC

wc: 1,792

warnings: none? memory loss?

This one is bit long and angsty lol -brie 💜

Ella found herself sitting on a couch of the ever intriguing woman who had seemingly for lack of a better word “kidnapped” her.

Since running into her outside, Elara hadn’t left Agnes’s side. They had chatted about Westview, the new couple across the street, the pecking order amongst the women in town, and anything else Agnes felt was necessary she know.

When they sat down for dinner, Elara hadn’t expected anything extraordinary. After all, this arrangement had only happened a few hours prior. But Agnes had gone out of her way to make it the most spectacular, dare Ella say, romantic, dinner she has ever taken part of. Maybe it was just the candlelight, but Agnes seemed to be glowing as they talked. She was absolutely stunning in every way, Ella couldn’t keep her eyes off of her, something Agnes ended up pointing out a few times to which Ella would avert her gaze and deny with a soft blush.

Ella knew without a doubt she was hastily falling head over heels for the nice woman with the boisterous personality and sparkly smile. She could hope (though she had many doubts) that Agnes would feel the same one day.

After dinner, Agnes had stepped away to clean up the dishes, insisting she do them herself, leaving Ella with a rare moment to herself. She began to truly look around for the first time. Getting up, she began to walk around the cozy sitting room. What first caught her eye was the wall full of stocked bookshelves.

Reading

She remembered sitting in front of a fireplace wrapped up in someone’s arms with a good book. She couldn’t remember who though, or when for that matter. Honestly it felt more like a dream than a memory.

Meanwhile Agatha was brewing a special pot of tea in the kitchen. Hoping a little bit of truth serum would help get to the bottom of all her questions. Of course she could always easily force her way into Elara’s head, but the side effects were...less than desirable.

Picking up her tea tray, Agatha made her way back into her sitting room. About to announce her presence, however a certain sight made her pause. Her eyes landed on Elara who looked blissfully lost in a book, unaware of the world outside the pages.

A wave of sadness flooded Agatha’s mind as she quietly watched her from the doorway. She missed her wife. It hadn’t been particularly easy the past few days watching Wanda and Vision live out their newlywed fantasies while she was isolated from her own partner. It was in that moment that Elara felt so close yet so far out of reach. It was frustrating.

Agatha cleared her throat before announcing herself. “Sorry about the wait, dear! Why don’t you join me?”

Ella jumped slightly, startled out her daydream. (Agatha most definitely noticed how timid her wife seemed to be acting since arriving in Westview, but tucked away that tidbit of observations for a later date). She slid the book into place on the shelf and made her way back to the couch, watching Agnes carefully set out her tea set.

Agatha patted the cushion next to her, “Come on, don’t be shy, I don’t bite! Unless you ask nicely first.” She chuckled a bit after that, reveling in the way it made Elara blush as she took her seat.

“Well-I...You’ve been so kind to me today, I just want to express my gratitude, Agnes, truly!”

“Don’t even mention it! Here.” Agatha handed her a cup of tea, then grabbed her own and once again started rattling on about everything and nothing all at once.

It didn’t take long for Elara to begin to feel the effects of the doctored tea. Her eyelids started drooping of their own accord and suddenly her teacup felt much too heavy to hold. Grasping the back of the couch with her free hand, Elara tried to steady herself, but to no avail.

“Agnes…”

Agatha quickly grabbed one of Elara’s shoulders as she set her own cup down, then took Elara’s and placed it with her own. “Steady there! Are you feeling alright?”

“I don’t-I…” Elara’s eyes were filled with worry as she struggled to feel even slightly present. It was like all her thoughts simply...vanished.

“Good.” Agatha used her now free hand to gently hold her wife’s waist, occasionally nudging her swaying figure to keep her sitting upright. “Now look back at me dear, I just have a few questions I'd like to ask you.” She gently reached for Elara’s chin, turning her face to look at her own. “Is that okay?”

Ella, now completely under the influence of the spelled tea, merely flashed a dopey smile in response. “You-you’re very pretty…”

“Aren’t you precious,” Agatha cooed while softly stroking her thumb across Elara’s cheek in an attempt to ground her. Feeling her lean into the touch, Agatha decided to move forward with her questions. “Who are you?”

“Ella.”

“Your real name?”

Frowning slightly, Ella began pulling away from Agnes’s touch. “I think I would know my own name.”

Agatha let her hands fall into her lap. “I have reason to believe you don’t.”

“And what reason would that be?”

“Women’s intuition, perhaps? Now, riddle me this: how did you get here? To Westview?” Agatha’s eyes wandered all across Elara, hoping to pick up any conclusions from her body language. Elara had bit her lip and was frowning as if trying to concentrate or remember something. Agatha could tell she was beginning to get frustrated.

Elara inhaled rather sharply before stuttering out a response. “I don’t-I...I don’t know.”

“Now you and I both know this particular piece of information is buried somewhere in that pretty little head of yours. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not! I promise!” Elara pleaded. “I truly don’t know!” The reality of her situation was finally caving in on Elara. The fact that she truly couldn’t remember anything about herself prior to the past few hours was unsettling to say the least.

Agatha was also beginning to look concerned. She saw the panic begin to set into her wife’s features. She was all big eyes and shaky hands. Agatha didn’t want to upset her this much, but it seemed like the best point of action: the intensity of Elara’s emotions paired with the effects of the tea should be just the distraction her mind needs to break free of the hex.

Tears started to form in the corners of Elara’s eyes. “I’m not lying, Agnes! I-I really have absolutely no idea how I got here or what any of this is supposed to be! I know I must sound out of my mind.” Elara leaned forward a bit too quickly in an attempt to grab one of Agatha’s hands and almost fell over in the process, but Agatha reached out to grab her side before she could.

“Careful dear-“

“You have to believe me!”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Why not? I’m telling the truth!” Elara reached out a hand, aiming for Agatha’s knee as a way to appeal to her but ended up missing and landing much higher up her thigh.

Agatha faked a gasp at the contact and quickly removed Elara’s hand. “Now now, seduction will get you nowhere, dear.”

“I didn’t-I’m not…” Elara huffed in frustration, the tears now steadily falling down her face. She had probably ruined any chance she might have had with Agnes. The last thing she wanted was for Agnes thinking she was trying to come onto her. She wasn’t. And she didn’t have any of the answers Agnes wanted and she didn’t understand why she was being so emotional either. Not to mention, she truly had no idea where she was. Nothing made sense anymore and it was starting to get to her head.

Clearly Elara was overwhelmed. That was more than obvious to Agatha. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep pressing her, or if she wanted to for that matter. Agatha herself was beginning to get upset at Elara’s current state, so she gently grasped her chin in one hand and pulled a kerchief out of her pocket with the other and began carefully wiping away Elara’s tears.

“There now, I know you weren’t darling. I was just trying to lighten the mood.” Elara started apologizing, but Agatha cut her off. “No need to apologize. You’re doing just fine!”

Ella took a deep breath and leaned into Agnes’s touch. She couldn’t help but think about what a terrible first impression she was making. Agnes was so captivating to Ella. She didn’t know what she would do with herself if they never spoke again. She had already lost her once, she couldn’t loose her again.

Wait.

Loose her again?

“Why are you here, darling? Think you can at least tell me that?”

Ella merely stared curiously at Agnes, lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear the question.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

Shaking her head, Ella moved Agnes’s hand off her cheek, holding it tightly in her own. “I’ve been looking for you. I lost you...how do I know that? How is that even possible? I just met you today.”

Agatha froze. Had she finally gotten through to her? “I assure you, it’s much more than possible.”

One last single tear fell down Elara’s face. “I’m scared, Agnes.”

Wrapping her arms around Elara’s shaking form, Agatha pulled her into a tight embrace, tucking her blonde head of hair under her chin. “I know, dear. Believe me, I know.”

Before either could speak again, there was a knock at the door. Both women turned around as a female voice called out for Agnes.

Agatha grimaced. Wanda just had to have impeccable timing. Glancing between the door and her wife, Agatha knew she had to make a quick decision. If Wanda saw Elara like this, she’d know something was wrong and possibly banish her from Westview. She was unwilling to lose the progress they had made on Elara’s memory, but was more unwilling to lose her all together.

With a flick of her wrist, purple smoke filled the room then dissipated. The tea set disappeared and Elara was returned completely to her Westview self with no recollection of their post dinner conversation.

Wanda knocked on the door and called out for Agnes once more.

Ella blinked, her vision clearing revealing Agnes staring carefully into her eyes.

“Are you feeling alright, dear?”

Ella frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Agnes shook her head. “Nothing. Just...checking in on my lovely house guest.” With that, she got up, leaving Ella alone, as she went to answer the door. Hopefully Wanda wouldn’t sense anything amiss.

At least not yet.

#agatha harkness x reader #Agatha Harkness x OC #agnes x reader #agatha harkness #agnes wandavision #honestly I rewrote this part about 4 times #but I think I’m happy with it now

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