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theballadofharkness · 4 days ago

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Whisky and Wine: A Glass Onion prequel

Pairing: Claire Debella X fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected when you came home from your publishers to your older partner Claire’s home was an invitation to her friend’s, Billionaire Miles Bron, private luxury yacht for the weekend. The problem? Claire had been very careful to keep her fellow disrupters away from you, terrified they would ruin yet another aspect of her life. But nobody says no to Miles, so you find yourself surrounded by Claire’s ‘inner circle’.

Word Count: 8.9K

A/N: As per my polls here is my long awaited Claire Debella fic! I’m aware the part 2 poll was still quite 50/50 but this will indeed by a 2-3 parter however each part could work as a stand alone fic for those who are anti multiple parts 💜🪻

Warnings: very slight smut warning so as always MDNI!

The meeting had been a disaster.

You weren’t sure how an hour-long meeting with your publishers had managed to drain every ounce of energy from your body, but as you stepped out of the conference room all you could think about was getting home. The city buzzed around you, the late afternoon sun reflecting off glass buildings, but none of it mattered. You just needed her.

By the time you reached Claire’s house- a sleek, modern place that still somehow managed to feel lived-in- you were practically vibrating with frustration. The moment you stepped inside, dropping your bag near the door, you let out a heavy sigh.

“Claire?” Your voice was quieter than usual, worn-out. You kicked off your shoes and padded further in, following the distant sound of the news murmuring in the living room.

Then you saw her.

Claire was curled up on the couch, barefoot, her reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she scrolled through emails on her tablet. She looked up at the sound of your voice, her expression softening the moment she saw you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She set the tablet down, already reaching for you. “How was the meeting?”

You made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, collapsing onto the couch beside her. “Exhausting. I swear, if I hear the word ‘marketability’ one more time…”

Claire hummed knowingly, shifting so you could rest your head against her shoulder. “Let me guess. They want you to be more brand-friendly? Less ‘moody writer’ and more… what, exactly?”

“Something soulless, probably.” You sighed, letting her warmth seep into you. She smelled like her usual citrus-sandalwood perfume, and as her fingers began tracing absentminded circles on your arm, the tension in your body slowly melted away.

She exhaled through her nose, something almost like a laugh but edged with irritation. “Idiots. You don’t need to change a thing baby.”

There was a beat of silence. Her fingers continued their slow, soothing movements. Then, she pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her lips lingering just a second too long. “You want me to run you a bath?” she murmured. “Or do you just want to stay like this for a while?”

You turned, tilting your head up to look at her. She was watching you with that careful, quiet concern that she never quite knew how to express in words. It made something tighten in your chest.

“This,” you said simply, curling into her. “I just want this.”

Claire let out a breath, one hand slipping into your hair, her other arm wrapping securely around you. “Then this it is,” she murmured, holding you close.

The tension in your shoulders had finally started to ease. Claire’s arms were warm around you, her fingers still tracing slow patterns against your back. The two of you sat there in silence, the sounds of the outside world muffled by the thick glass windows of her home. It was just the two of you in your own little world.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at her. Claire had taken her reading glasses off at some point, setting them aside, and now she was watching you with that familiar, unreadable expression- half amusement, half something altogether softer.

“What?” you murmured, your voice quieter now, more settled.

She smiled, shaking her head as her hand slid up to cup your jaw. “Nothing,” she said, voice hushed. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Your heart stuttered. It didn’t matter how long you had been with her- Claire always had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

Her thumb brushed over your cheek, her touch light but intentional. You barely had a moment to react before she guided your chin up and kissed you.

It was slow at first, unhurried, like she was taking her time memorizing every inch of you. Her lips were soft, warm, tasting faintly of the wine she’d been drinking earlier. You sighed into it, letting your hands rest on her waist, feeling the way she leaned into you, pulling you impossibly closer.

Then something shifted.

Maybe it was the way her fingers slid into your hair, tilting your head just so, or the quiet, contented sound she made against your lips. Either way, the kiss deepened, turned more heated, more urgent. Your fingers curled against the fabric of her shirt, needing more-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

The two of you froze. Claire pulled back just slightly, blinking like she had forgotten for a moment that the rest of the world existed.

You groaned, dropping your forehead against her shoulder. “Are you serious?”

Claire exhaled, biting back a smile. “Hold that thought,” she murmured before pressing one last kiss, so quick it was almost teasing, against your lips. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she untangled herself from you and stood up.

As she made her way to the door, you leaned back into the couch, still slightly dazed from the kiss. You could hear Claire unlocking the door, her voice shifting into something a little more polished, you recognised it immediately as her politician voice.

“Yes?”

“Mrs Debella?” a male voice asked.

“Miss” she corrected exasperatedly.

“Whatever. Special delivery from Alpha Industries.”

At that, your brows knit together, the name instantly recognizable. You sat up slightly, twisting to look toward the front door.

Claire hesitated for half a second before responding. “Right. Thanks.”

You heard the rustling of a package being handed over and then the door shutting again. Claire walked back into the room, a sleek black box in her hands. It was marked with the unmistakable Alpha logo.

You gave her a look. “Miles?”

She let out a sigh, setting the package down on the coffee table. “Looks like it.”

There was something about the way she said it- carefully neutral, but you knew her too well. You had heard enough about Miles Bron and the so-called “Disruptors” to know Claire didn’t take anything from them lightly. Still, she had kept you at a distance from it all. You knew them by name, by the stories she told late at night with a drink in her hand, her voice edged with frustration or reluctant nostalgia. But you had never met them.

Because Claire hadn’t wanted you to.

Your eyes flickered between the box and Claire, whose expression had turned slightly unreadable again. Whatever was inside, you had a feeling it wasn’t just some casual gift.

“Are you going to open it?” you asked.

Claire rubbed her temple, exhaling slowly. “Yeah,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “I guess I am.”

You sat back, watching as she rubbed a hand over her face before dropping onto the couch beside you, staring at the box like it might explode. You had seen Claire in enough high-pressure situations to know when something was actually bothering her.

“Claire.” You nudged her thigh with your knee, drawing her attention back to you. “Why does this feel like a problem?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “Because I’ve kept you separate from that part of my life for a reason,” she admitted. “And if this is what I think it is… that’s about to change.”

You swallowed, glancing at the box again.

Claire lifted the lid, her movements slower than usual, like she was bracing herself. Inside, nestled in layers of expensive black tissue paper, was an envelope- thick, pristine, sealed with a wax emblem stamped with the Alpha Industries logo.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at the unnecessary decadence. Of course it’s fucking wax-sealed. You leaned in as she cracked it open, pulling out what could only be described as the most obnoxious invitation you had ever seen. The card stock was absurdly thick, edged in real gold leaf, with deep blue calligraphy that looked handcrafted.

Claire’s name was printed at the top in bold lettering, followed immediately by yours. Your stomach did a weird little flip.

“Wait,” you said, pointing. “I’m invited?”

Claire’s body had gone very, very still.

Her eyes scanned the page again, her expression shifting from irritation to something sharper. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, and she swallowed once, like she was trying to keep herself from reacting too much.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Do they… know about me?”

Claire didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set the box down on the coffee table with a little too much precision, like she needed to make sure it stayed perfectly in place.

“They know I got divorced,” she spoke carefully. “But I don’t think they know about you.”

You could see it happening in real time- her mind running through every possibility, every scenario. She never told them about you. She made sure she never told them about you.

And yet…

“So how did Miles find out?” you asked slowly.

Claire didn’t answer right away. She was still staring at the invitation, her thumb brushing absently over your name, like she was trying to make sense of it.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted, her voice quieter now. “I never told him. I never told any of them.”

That unsettled you more than you wanted to admit. Claire had been so careful about keeping you out of that part of her life- out of the press, out of the Disruptors’ orbit. But somehow, Miles had found out. And now he was inviting you into his world.

You glanced back down at the invitation. The details were written in Miles’ usual over-the-top way:

A Long Weekend of Luxury & Intrigue

Miles Bron’s Private Yacht – The Mediterranean

An Exclusive Getaway for My Closest Friends… and Their Loved Ones.

Travel arrangements to come, please forward any dietary requirements.

You frowned, tapping the words. “Loved ones,” you muttered. “Like he’s trying to make some kind of point.”

Claire let out a humorless laugh. “That’s exactly what he’s doing.”

Your gaze flickered back to her face. “Are we going?”

Claire ran a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly. “We don’t have a choice.” Something about the way she said it sent a shiver down your spine.

The sun was high, turning the Mediterranean into a stretch of endless sapphire. The dock where you stood was private, the kind of place reserved for the ultra-rich, with sleek yachts bobbing in the water and staff dressed in crisp white uniforms.

It felt unreal- like stepping into a different world, one that wasn’t meant for you.

You adjusted the hem of your sundress, feeling the warm breeze skim over your skin. The air here was different from back home- saltier, heavier with the scent of the ocean and something expensive you couldn’t quite name.

Claire’s fingers curled around your wrist before sliding down to lace her fingers with yours.

You glanced up at her. “You okay?”

She was wearing her signature sunglasses, but you could still see the tension in her jaw, the way she kept scanning the dock as if preparing for battle.

“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly.

You hummed, unconvinced.

For someone who had been relatively composed about this whole trip, Claire was not composed now. You had noticed it the second you stepped out of the car- how she had kept close to you, touching you more than usual.

Not that you minded.

Her hand slid down to your hip, fingers toying with the hem of your dress as she pulled you in against her side. “You look beautiful,” she murmured, her lips brushing just behind your ear.

A shiver ran through you. “Thank you,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly as her fingers tightened against your waist.

She had been like this since you left the U.S.- clingy, possessive, like she was afraid you might slip through her fingers if she let go for even a second. Normally, Claire wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but now? Now she couldn’t seem to stop touching you. You weren’t stupid. You knew what this was.

“Claire.” You turned slightly in her hold, placing a hand against her chest. “Talk to me.”

Her jaw tensed. For a second, you thought she might deflect again, but then she sighed and slipped her sunglasses off, rubbing at her temple.

“This is just… a lot,” she admitted. “I don’t know how they’re going to react.”

You swallowed. “To me?”

“To us.” Her grip on you tightened for just a second before she exhaled, forcing herself to ease up. “I don’t want you to regret coming.”

You softened, sliding a hand up to cup her face. “I won’t.”

Claire searched your eyes, something unspoken flickering in her own. Then, with a sigh, she pressed her forehead against yours, her fingers still gripping your waist like she needed to ground herself.

“I love you,” she murmured, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

Your breath hitched. She had said it before- countless times, in bed, in the quiet safety of her home. But now, standing in the open, just minutes away from walking into her world, it felt different.

Like a promise.

Before you could respond, the low hum of an approaching engine made Claire stiffen.

You both turned just in time to see the yacht appearing in the distance- massive, gleaming, an undeniable symbol of Miles Bron’s excess.

Claire inhaled sharply. “Here we go.”

You laced your fingers through hers, squeezing once. “Together?”

She looked at you, exhaled, and squeezed back.

“Together.”

The yacht was getting closer, and so was the inevitable reality of this weekend. Claire hadn’t let go of you yet- her hand still resting firmly against your hip, her fingers pressing absently into the soft fabric of your dress like she needed to reassure herself that you were there.

The first taxi pulled up to the dock, the back door swinging open.

Lionel Toussaint stepped out, looking sharp even after what must have been a long flight. His suit was crisp but effortless, like he had mastered the art of looking put-together without trying too hard. He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, taking in the view before his eyes landed on Claire.

His face lit up.

“Well, well,” he said, amusement threading through his voice. “Madame Governor.”

Claire grinned. “Hey, genius.”

They met halfway, embracing briefly but warmly, and you could tell immediately that Lionel was the one Claire was closest to in this group. There was an ease between them, a familiarity that softened some of the tension humming beneath Claire’s skin.

“You good?” Lionel asked as they pulled back.

Claire let out a breath. “Yeah. You?”

He gave her a tired but knowing look. “Ask me again in 48 hours.”

Claire chuckled, shaking her head.

You waited politely beside her, fingers grazing her wrist. Lionel’s eyes flickered to you, but there was no real recognition there- just a brief, dismissive glance before he turned his attention back to Claire, already moving on. And that told you everything.

He didn’t ignore you outright. He just… didn’t register you as important enough to greet.

Claire, however, wasn’t having that.

She cleared her throat pointedly and turned slightly toward you. “Lionel, this is my partner,” she said, her voice carefully even. “Y/N.”

It took half a second too long for Lionel to react.

His brows pulled together in visible confusion, like he had misheard her. His gaze finally settled on you properly, scanning you for the first time, and you could feel him trying to make sense of it.

“Your what?”

Claire’s expression barely flickered, but you could feel her body tense beside you. “My partner,” she repeated, her tone a fraction cooler.

Lionel blinked. His brain was clearly short-circuiting as he tried to recalibrate everything he thought he knew about Claire.

“I didn’t know you liked women,” he said finally, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Your stomach twisted.

Claire let out a dry, humorless laugh. “That’s funny,” she said. “Because I don’t remember ever having to tell you who I sleep with.”

Lionel held up his hands slightly, like he hadn’t meant anything by it. “No, I just-” He exhaled, clearly still processing, before his gaze flicked back to you, then back to Claire.

“She’s, uh… she’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”

There it is.

He was still talking about you, not to you, like you weren’t standing right there, like you weren’t fully aware of the judgment bleeding into his voice.

Claire’s grip on you tightened.

You weren’t sure if it was meant to be reassuring or if she was just holding herself back from punching Lionel in the face.

Your lips parted, ready to say something, but Claire beat you to it.

“She’s an adult,” she said sharply. “And I don’t need your fucking approval, Lionel.”

Lionel sighed, running a hand over his face like this was all so exhausting for him.

“I’m just saying,” he muttered. “It’s unexpected, that’s all.”

Claire exhaled sharply, her free hand finding your wrist and running her thumb over your pulse like she was grounding herself. “Sorry to disappoint,” she said flatly.

Lionel finally—finally—looked at you again, his expression unreadable.

“So… what do you do for work?” he asked, his tone more polite than interested.

“I’m a writer.” You finally spoke up, not particularly moved to go into your whole history for a man that was clearly disinterested.

He nodded back, like that was enough information, then turned to Claire again. “You bringing her on the yacht, then?”

Claire didn’t answer right away. You could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way she was fighting the urge to snap at him. But she just plastered on a tight smile.

“Looks like it.”

Lionel just hummed in response, glancing back toward the water as if this conversation was already over.

You felt Claire’s fingers tighten around yours, the silent message clear: Ignore him.

But something told you this trip was going to be a lot longer than you thought.

Lionel had already shifted into work mode, scrolling through his phone, agreeing with Claire in earnest as she muttered something under her breath about ‘Miles and his goddamn theatrics.’

You were still standing close to her, fingers laced with hers, trying to shake off the weirdness of Lionel’s reaction when another car pulled up to the dock.

It wasn’t subtle.

A gleaming white luxury SUV rolled to a stop, music blaring from the inside. The door swung open, and before you even saw her, you heard her.

“Oh my GOD! this heat? I’m obsessed!”

Birdie Jay stepped out in a billowing, brightly colored designer cover-up, her sunglasses comically oversized, her hair perfectly styled despite her dramatic complaints about the weather. Behind her, Peg struggled to haul out an impossible number of designer suitcases, her expression already exhausted.

“Claire! Lionel!” Birdie practically shrieked as she spotted them, arms flinging open in excitement.

Claire barely had time to react before Birdie was on her, pulling her into a hug that was somehow both enthusiastic and completely self-serving.

“Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Birdie gushed, stepping back to hold Claire at arm’s length. “You look so good, babe- tell me, did you get a little lift?”

Claire’s smile was tight. “No, Birdie.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” Birdie winked before turning to Lionel, throwing her arms around him with just as much energy. “And you, genius boy, looking all serious as usual.”

Lionel barely managed a chuckle before Birdie released him, finally noticing you.

Her sunglasses slid down her nose as she openly stared.

“Wait.” She pointed dramatically. “Stranger danger. Who is this?”

Claire’s grip on you tightened immediately, her body shifting slightly in front of yours like some kind of shield.

“Birdie,” she said, voice edged with warning. “Stop it.”

Birdie gasped, pressing a manicured hand to her chest. “Oh my god, did I say something wrong?”

Claire exhaled sharply. “She’s my partner.”

Birdie blinked. “Your what?”

Claire’s patience was hanging on by a thread. “My girlfriend, Bird.”

Birdie let out a delighted squeal, clapping her hands together. “Shut up! Oh my god, Claire, you’re into girls? Since when? Well you did always dress in a lot of masculine beige outfits… oh my god did you have a crush on me?”

Peg, still lugging suitcases out of the SUV, muttered, “Oh my god, Birdie, please.”

Claire’s shoulders tensed, but you could see the way she was bracing for Birdie’s next thoughtless comment.

Birdie’s eyes flicked between you and Claire, her head tilting. “Wait, hold on, isn’t she, like-” She squinted at you. “- a baby?”

You stiffened slightly. Claire, on the other hand, visibly clenched her jaw.

“She’s an adult, Birdie,” she said, tone clipped.

Birdie just grinned, completely oblivious. “I love this new era for you Claire.” She leaned in closer,, “I mean, go off, queen- find yourself a little hot young thing-”

Claire groaned, rubbing a hand over her face.

Peg, clearly at her limit, slammed the car trunk shut and turned to Birdie with the deadest expression imaginable. “Can we please just get on the boat?”

Birdie waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, I’m going.” She turned back to you, flashing a megawatt smile. “Well, welcome to the shitshow, babe!”

And with that, she strutted toward the dock, leaving you standing there, still processing whatever the hell just happened.

Claire let out a slow, deep breath.

“I told you,” she muttered, rubbing your back as if that could somehow erase the past five minutes.

The air was already thick with tension from Birdie’s arrival, but then the roar of an approaching engine shattered the relative calm.

You turned just in time to see a massive, gleaming black motorcycle pulling up to the dock, kicking up dust and salt air as it skidded to a dramatic stop.

And then, of course, the gunfire. Two deafening BANG! BANG! shots into the sky. You nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Jesus fuck,” Claire muttered under her breath, while Lionel just pinched the bridge of his nose.

Duke Cody swung one massive leg off the bike, holstering his pistol like this was just another Tuesday. His biceps strained against his tactical vest, the mirrored sunglasses doing nothing to hide his shit-eating grin.

Right behind him, Whisky dismounted, long legs swinging off the bike as she pulled off her helmet, shaking out her perfect blonde waves like she was in a goddamn commercial.

“Hell yeah, baby!” Duke whooped, spreading his arms wide as he approached the group. “Who’s ready to party?”

Birdie, of course, squealed and sprinted straight into his arms.

“Duuuuuuke!” she shrieked as he lifted her clean off the ground.

“Birdie, my girl!” Duke spun her once before setting her down, slapping Lionel on the back next. “My man! How we doin’?”

Lionel sighed but accepted the hug. “Duke.”

Then Duke turned to Claire, grinning as he pulled her in for an aggressively firm hug.

“Claire! How’s politics? Bunch of bullshit, huh?”

Claire grimaced as she pulled away. “As always.”

Duke let out a booming laugh before his gaze finally landed on you.

He frowned slightly, sunglasses tilting down as he gave you a once-over. “Wait a minute- who’s this? You tight with Miles?”

Claire’s spine snapped straight. “She’s my partner,” she said before you could even open your mouth.

Duke’s eyebrows shot up before his face split into a wide, very male grin. “Ohhhh,” he drawled. “Girl on girl, huh? Sounds hot.”

You physically cringed. Claire, on the other hand, made a sound so close to an actual growl that Lionel had to clear his throat.

“Duke, no,” Peg muttered from somewhere behind her stack of luggage.

“Duke. Stop.” Claire snapped, glaring at Duke like she was two seconds from punching him.

Duke, completely unbothered, just chuckled. “Hey, I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

Before Claire could actually strangle him, Whisky finally approached, sliding past Duke and straight toward you.

“Oh my god,” she said, all breathy excitement, her arms already opening. “It’s so good to meet you.”

And then, suddenly, you were being hugged.

You blinked, startled but not opposed, as Whisky wrapped you up in genuine warmth. She smelled like vanilla and sunscreen, her long, tanned arms squeezing you tightly before pulling back with an easy, dazzling smile.

“You’re, like, the only other person here who gets it,” she said under her breath , gripping your shoulders. “This group is insane, but don’t worry, babe- I got you.”

You blinked again. “Oh. Uh- thank you?”

Claire, meanwhile, was staring at Whisky like she had just committed a crime. You felt the exact moment her arm snaked around your waist, her grip firm, possessive.

Whisky, oblivious, just beamed at you. “We’re gonna stick together, okay?”

Claire’s fingers dug into your side. “Actually,” she cut in, her voice way too even, “she’ll be sticking with me.”

Whisky finally seemed to notice the tension and raised her perfectly arched brows, glancing between you and Claire.

“Oh,” she said, smirking slightly. “I see how it is.”

You didn't miss the way Claire’s hold on you tightened, like she thought Whisky might actually steal you right in front of her.

Duke, meanwhile, clapped his hands together, completely unaware of the subtle war happening in front of him. “Alright, enough chit-chat- where’s this big-ass boat?”

Claire exhaled sharply, but her grip on you didn’t loosen. Yeah this was gonna be a long weekend.

The yacht finally docked, looming ahead of you, sleek and impossibly expensive, rocking slightly in the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean. A crew of staff was already waiting on deck, dressed in crisp white uniforms, making last-minute preparations as the boat docked.

Miles Bron finally appeared, stepping onto the upper deck like a king surveying his kingdom. Arms wide, sunglasses reflecting the sun, dressed in linen like he had personally invented wealth.

“My closest friends!” he boomed, his voice carrying over the dock. “My fellow Disruptors!”

Claire exhaled so hard you felt it.

Miles grinned, throwing his arms open like he expected the group to cheer for him.

“I’m so glad you all could make it,” he continued, gesturing grandly at the yacht behind him. “This weekend is gonna be legendary. We’re talking relaxation, revelation, innovation-”

Lionel sighed. “Can we just get on the boat?”

Miles laughed, pointing at him. “That’s my guy! Always straight to business.”

Claire muttered under her breath, “Oh my god, I can’t do this.”

You squeezed her hand. “Too late now.”

One by one, the group greeted him, stepping onto the yacht like they were walking onto the red carpet.

Birdie was all over him immediately, throwing her arms around his neck. “Miles, darling! I’ve missed you!”

Miles chuckled, squeezing her tight. “Birdie Jay, my shining star!”

Behind her, Peg staggered forward, hauling an ungodly amount of luggage up the gangway, struggling as she tried to keep up.

Claire leaned toward you. “Should we…?”

You glanced at Peg, whose face was bright red from exertion, and whispered back, “She’s gotta learn to leave Birdie.”

Claire let out a quiet huff of laughter.

Duke approached next, gripping Miles in one of those firm, testosterone-heavy handshakes before pulling him into a half-hug. “My man, look at you. Alpha as fuck.”

Miles lapped it up, grinning. “Duke, my brother, always bringing that energy.”

Then…Whisky.

You expected her to greet him like the others, but instead, she melted into his arms. And lingered. Her arms looped around his neck, and Miles held her just a little too close, his hand pressed way too low on her back.

Claire stiffened beside you. Your eyes met hers, both of you sharing suspicious looks. Whisky finally pulled back, giving Miles a dazzling smile before stepping onto the boat. Miles smoothed a hand down his shirt, still grinning like a man who was absolutely getting laid that night.

Claire’s grip on your waist tightened. “Fucking figures.”

Finally, it was your turn.

Miles’ gaze slid over to you, his sunglasses lowering slightly as his lips curled into that infuriatingly smug grin.

“And who do we have here?” he asked, voice smooth, curious.

You blinked. “Uh… you put my name on the invitation?”

For a split second, his expression flickered- just the faintest tell that, yeah, he absolutely knew that. But then it was gone, replaced by an easy chuckle as he spread his hands like it had just slipped his mind.

“Of course! Of course,” he said, nodding. “Just had to put a face to the name.”

Bullshit.

You knew it. He knew it.

And judging by the way Claire’s body tensed beside you, *she* definitely knew it, too. Before you could say anything else, Claire’s grip on you tightened.

“She’s mine, Miles,” she said- sharp, firm, final. Not my partner. Not we’re together. Just mine.

Miles raised his hands in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his face. “Hey, love that for you, Claire.”

Claire didn’t move. Didn’t let go. Didn’t break her glare. You felt the way her fingers curled against your waist, the unspoken weight in her hold. It wasn’t just about you anymore. She’d just watched Whisky drape herself all over him. She’d just clocked the dynamic shift, the tension, the fact that Duke’s girlfriend had just hugged Miles like she belonged to him. And now Miles was looking at you with that same assessing energy.

Yeah. Not happening.

Without another word, Claire pulled you past him, her grip solid, grounding. As you stepped onto the yacht, you caught the tail end of Miles’ quiet chuckle behind you. Yeah you should have dragged Claire off the boat when you had the chance.

It was evident that Miles loved the sound of his own voice.

The second everyone was settled on deck, he launched straight into his grand welcome speech, pacing in front of the group like he was unveiling the next great innovation that would change the world.

“It is so good to have my inner circle here,” he began, grinning wide as he spread his arms, his linen shirt billowing like he was about to ascend. “This weekend is gonna be legendary. A weekend of ideas. Of disruption. Of pure creativity.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Claire, standing stiffly beside you, just exhaled slowly through her nose.

Miles clapped his hands together. “Now, I’ve personally curated this experience for each of you,” he continued, smirking. “Every detail, every moment, it’s perfection. And that includes where you’ll be staying.” He gestured dramatically, and one of the staff members stepped forward, holding a sleek silver tray. On it were a set of thin, futuristic-looking wristbands.

“Each of you will be staying in luxury,” Miles said, plucking a band off the tray. “Your rooms are assigned- and these?” He held up the wristband between two fingers. “These are your keys. Custom-made. High-tech. Just tap in, and boom- your room knows you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Claire muttered under her breath.

Miles shot her a wink like she’d just complimented him. One by one, the group took their wristbands- Duke inspecting his like it was a weapon, Birdie gasping about how tech-y it was, Whisky cooing as Miles personally strapped hers on (suspicious), Peg looking like she wanted to throw hers into the ocean.

When you and Claire got yours, she barely acknowledged it- just grabbed your hand and dragged you toward the room assignments before Miles could get any more insufferable.

The second you stepped inside your room, the door sliding shut behind you, Claire pounced.

Her lips crashed into yours, her hands gripping at your hips, your waist, your arms- everywhere, like she was grounding herself in your presence.

You barely had time to gasp before she was pressing you back against the door, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress.

“Baby,” she breathed, her voice desperate, almost pleading. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” Her lips dragged over your jaw, your throat. “You’re just mine, yeah?”

Your heart stuttered. You’d never seen her like this. Needy. Desperate. You knew what this was. You’d felt her tension building all day- when Lionel barely acknowledged you, when Birdie treated you like a novelty, when Duke made it gross, when Whisky hugged you, when Miles looked at you. And most of all- when she realised that Miles had obviously been fucking Whisky behind Duke’s back.

Claire had clocked it instantly. And if Miles was willing to do that to Duke then all bets were off. She’d seen the way he looked at you. How he pretended not to know you. Like you were just another piece on the board for him to play with. And now? She was holding onto you like she thought you might slip away, too.

You cupped her face, guiding her back to your lips. “I’m yours,” you murmured, brushing your mouth against hers. “Just yours.”

She made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan and kissed you harder. Her hands were shaking as they gripped your waist, sliding over your hips like she needed more, needed to prove something to herself. And god, you were more than willing to let her.

But then…

Ding.

A notification popped up on the sleek, futuristic screen by the bed. Miles’ voice crackled over the speakers:

“Dinner in an hour, Disruptors! Be ready for anything.”

Claire froze. Her forehead pressed to yours, her breath still heavy, her fingers still clinging to your dress.

“I fucking hate him.”

You laughed. “I know.”

She groaned, pressing her lips to your forehead before stepping back. “Come on, baby. Let’s get this over with.”

But the second you turned to grab your bag, she smacked your ass. Hard.

You gasped, whipping around, and she just grinned. “Just reminding you,” she murmured, voice low, teasing. “You’re mine.”

Yeah. This weekend was gonna be dangerous.

The shower had been quiet, save for the sound of water cascading down the glass, the gentle rhythm of your body moving with Claire’s as she helped you rinse the shampoo from your hair. It was one of those moments where everything felt soft, almost like time had slowed down just for you two. You were both getting ready for dinner, the tension of the day still clinging to you, but now it was tempered by the closeness- the warmth of her skin against yours, her lips pressing light kisses to the back of your neck as you dried off.

Claire had been all over you in the shower, but as you both dressed, she seemed to get quieter, her hands brushing over your body with a purpose you couldn’t quite place. You were dressed in a short, fitted black dress that showcased your figure- simple but undeniably flattering, you could tell Claire approved by the way her gaze lingered on you a little too long.

“You look beautiful,” she murmured as she pulled you back into her arms. Her lips on your neck, hands grabbing your waist, pulling you into her.

“I don’t want to let you go,” she whispered against your skin. “But we have to. They’ll be waiting.”

You chuckled. “You’re hot and bothered again already?” You teased softly.

She gave you a quick, teasing bite to your neck. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it, baby.”

You turned in her arms to face her, resting your hands on her chest. You could see the battle inside her- her breath still shallow, her body still tightly wound as she fought the impulse to drag you into the bed again. But she just smiled at you instead, her lips soft and sweet as she kissed you once more.

When you finally pulled away, you caught her gaze, soft but with an undeniable possessive edge. “I’m yours. All yours.this trip won’t change that” You smiled against her lips, feeling the warmth of her body, the need in her touch.

“Ready for dinner?”

You nodded, letting her pull you out of the room and into the hallway.

The sight of the yacht’s wide-open deck was breathtaking- the Mediterranean air cool, the distant sound of waves lapping against the hull. The deck was alive with conversation when you arrived- everyone mingling, glasses in hand, as the sun set over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the yacht. Miles was standing center stage, naturally, as if he were the star of some kind of farcical play. He exuded that patented mix of “down-to-earth billionaire” bullshit and self-importance.

When he saw you and Claire, his smile grew wider, and he made a show of waving you over with open arms. “Ah, the perfect pair! So glad you could join us,” he said, grinning.

He handed each of the guests a glass of their preferred drink- Lionel’s rum, Birdie’s cocktail, Duke’s whiskey, and, of course, Peg’s... discount beer in a red solo cup, before turning to Claire with a flourish.

“Claire bear, for you- room temperature Pinot Grigio, as you like it.”

Claire barely looked at him, already focused on going to speak to Lionel as she took the glass. She moved away from Miles, leaving you standing beside him, and that’s when he pounced.

Miles tilted his head at you, still smiling. “What’ll it be, beautiful? Pick your poison- our mixologist can whip up whatever you want.”

You tilted your head slightly. “I don’t really drink.”

“Ah,” he hummed, dragging the moment out, like he was waiting for you to explain yourself. You didn’t.

Instead, you caught Claire’s eye from across the deck, and she was already looking at you, brows just slightly furrowed, her grip tightening around her wine glass.

Before she could step back toward you, a loud voice cut through-

“Hey where’s your drink?”

Duke. You barely had time to react before he was beside you, all bravado and ego, Whisky trailing just behind. His sunglasses were still on despite the dimming light, and his arms flexed as he gestured to your empty hands.

“She’s not drinking,” Claire interjected, her voice clipped.

Duke barely acknowledged her, already reaching for one of the drinks they’d brought over. Miles opened his mouth like he was about to say something, some smug little comment about your earlier refusal.

And you weren’t about to let him.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath, then louder, “I’ll take what you’re having, if you’re offering.”

Duke’s grin spread, wide and pleased. He clapped a heavy hand on your shoulder like you’d earned something. You lurched forward at the sheer force of it.

“That’s the spirit! Good girl- I’m loving this energy!”

Whisky passed you a drink- something dark, strong-smelling, condensation beading down the glass. Claire stiffened beside you. You lifted the glass to your lips, taking a long, slow sip- never breaking eye contact with Miles. The burn hit your throat instantly, sharp and biting, but you kept your expression neutral. Miles just watched you, unreadable for a fraction of a second- then smirked.

Dinner was exactly as unbearable as you thought it would be. The long, immaculately set table stretched out across the open-air deck, the Mediterranean breeze sweeping through candle flames and ruffling the edges of cloth napkins. The food was extravagant, the wine endlessly poured, and the conversation? Absolutely insufferable.

You had been drinking steadily just to survive it. At first, it was just to take the edge off- the way Miles sat at the head of the table like some kind of tech god, the way Whisky leaned in close to him, practically coiled around him, the way everyone here seemed to just accept it, like it was normal.

Then Birdie started talking.

"Peg, hand me my phone," she said, reaching across the table like she expected it to materialize in her hand.

Peg, visibly exhausted, didn’t even look up from her plate. "No."

Birdie blinked, affronted. "What?"

"You promised. No phone. Not until the end of the media cycle."

Birdie groaned, throwing her head back. "Oh my god, are we still on that? I apologized! I explained!"

Claire exhaled sharply, already rubbing at her temples. Lionel was gripping the bridge of his nose. Duke, as expected, was no help at all.

"People are just so sensitive these days," he muttered, shaking his head. "So woke. You know Kimmel said I hated boobs?”

Birdie lit up like he had just cracked some kind of universal truth. "YES! Exactly! That's what I keep saying! I'm a truth teller! I say it like I see it, and people can't handle it!"

Claire and Lionel exchanged a look. A very long, very exhausted look.

And that was when you- who had, by this point, abandoned all forms of self-restraint- snorted. Loudly. Everyone turned toward you. "Bullshit," you muttered, swirling the last of your drink in your glass.

Birdie’s mouth actually dropped open. "Excuse me?" She blinked at you, eyes wide, before laughing like she had misheard you. "Sweetie, I have Gucci handbags older than you."

You rolled your eyes, setting your glass down with a sharp clink. "Don't you think you're mistaking ‘truth telling’ with just speaking without thought?"

The table froze. Even Peg, who should be on your side, looked vaguely alarmed.

"What you're doing is dangerous," you went on, voice a little too loud, a little too loose from the alcohol. "You say shit without thinking, and people listen to you. That’s not truth telling, Birdie. It’s just-”

Birdie grinned, leaning in. "Oh, so you think I'm dangerous, huh?"

You scoffed, already reaching for your glass again. "It’s not a compliment. It’s stupi-"

"Okay," Claire cut in, her voice forcibly light but you could feel the steel grip of her hand on your thigh. "You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s get you back to the room."

You turned to her, blinking. "I’m fine-"

"You’re done," she said, already pulling you to stand, already steering you away from the table.

The conversation picked up again as you left, but you still felt Birdie’s eyes on your back. And Miles? Miles was smirking.

The door slammed behind you, the sound echoing through the sleek, modern bedroom. The second Claire turned to face you, hands already on her hips, you exploded.

"What the fuck, Claire?!"

She looked just as furious as you felt, stepping forward, eyes flashing. "No, what the fuck was that?"

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Me? You’re friends with a woman who compared herself to Harriet Tubman and I’M the one embarrassing you?! Have you seen Duke’s streams?!"

Claire pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. "Yes, I know exactly what they’re like, but they are my very old friends, and you cannot just-”

"Oh, so when it’s you marking me up and making me tell you how I belong to you, that’s fine, but the second it’s me versus your shithead friends, suddenly I’m dragged back here like a fucking child?"

Claire’s jaw clenched.

"Fuck off then," you muttered, turning away.

A beat.

Then, Claire was on you. Not gentle, not soft- commanding. A sharp grip on your chin, tilting your head up, her voice a low, controlled warning. "You don’t talk to me like that."

You froze. Claire’s face was so close to yours, her grip firm but careful, her breath warm against your lips. "You’re drunk," she said, voice steady. "Go to bed."

Your stomach twisted. "Claire-"

"I’m going back to the group."

Your heart dropped. "You’re leaving?"

"Yes." Her voice wasn’t cruel, but it was final.

You stared at her, something deep and ugly twisting inside you. "Why?"

Claire exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down her face. When she finally met your gaze again, she looked tired.

"Listen," she said, softer now. "I can’t stand Miles. But he’s the one paying for my entire electoral campaign. You can’t just piss him off."

The words landed like a slap. Claire watched the way your expression shifted- how your chest rose and fell, how your mouth pressed into a thin line. You swallowed, your throat dry.

"Right," you muttered.

Claire sighed, reaching for you, but you stepped back.

"Go," you said, voice quiet.

She hesitated. But then, without another word, she turned and left. And for the first time since stepping foot on this yacht, you felt completely alone.

You woke up feeling like shit.

Your mouth was dry, your head was pounding, and your stomach churned with the unmistakable nausea of a hangover. The Mediterranean sun poured in through the open balcony doors, searing hot against your eyelids, and the cool sheets beneath you did nothing to soothe the ache in your skull.

The thin sheet barely covered you. You weren’t even sure if you’d bothered to get ready for bed the night before, but judging by the state of you- naked, woozy, with your dress crumpled up in the corner of the room- you assumed you hadn’t. Your stomach turned as the memories filtered in, sluggish and blurry- Miles, the drinks, the fight with Claire, the way she left you last night, drunk and fuming in this big, stupid, obscenely expensive bedroom. You groaned, pressing your face into the pillow. Claire’s warm, soft body was already curled around yours.

"Good morning, baby," she murmured against your shoulder, voice thick with sleep as her lips trailed down your bare skin.

You pulled the sheet up higher over your bare breasts, burrowing deeper into the pillows. "I’m dying," you croaked.

"Yeah," Claire sighed, nosing into your hair. "You did drink a lot."

You cracked one eye open just to glare at her. "Thanks for the insight Governor."

Claire just smiled, tilting your chin slightly so she could kiss the corner of your mouth. "C’mon," she murmured, her fingers tracing over your waist, nose nuzzling into your hair. "Baby," she coaxed, her voice dipping lower, her hand smoothing over your stomach. "Let me make it up to you."

You groaned again, rolling onto your back, your body betraying you as her hands roamed lower. "No." You made a noise, half groan, half protest, and shifted away from her mouth.

Claire chuckled, completely unfazed, her arms tightening around your waist. "No?"

"Still mad," you mumbled, voice thick with sleep and dehydration.

Claire exhaled a soft, amused laugh, shifting so she was pressed even closer. "Still mad," she repeated, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your jaw. "Baby..."

You didn’t react.

Claire huffed, pressing her nose into your hair, her hand slipping lower, tracing lightly over your bare stomach. "Baby," she repeated, her voice dropping into that low, coaxing register that always made your spine tingle. "C’mon. Mommy’s sorry. Don’t be mad."

You huffed, pulling the sheet high over your head.

Claire didn't like that. With an amused hum, she slipped beneath the covers with you, her breath warm against your neck, her lips finding your jaw this time, soft and lingering. "There she is," she murmured, voice honeyed. "Thought I lost you under there."

You pushed at her arm weakly. "Claire."

"What?" she asked innocently, though her hand was already inching lower, fingers ghosting over the dip of your waist. "I’m just waking my baby girl up."

"You left me," you muttered, voice quieter now, but still laced with irritation.

Claire sighed again- this time, more genuine. She kissed your temple, her lips lingering, before murmuring, "I know."

You swallowed, staring at the ceiling, heart still heavy in your chest. "You left."

A pause. Then, softer: "I know, baby. Her voice had that gentle edge to it, like she was really feeling it now- the weight of the fight, the things she’d said, the way she walked away.

"You chose them," you mumbled into the pillow.

Claire exhaled sharply, shifting so she could prop herself up on one elbow. "It wasn’t like that."

You snorted. "Oh, wasn’t it? You dragged me away like some unruly child, Claire."

She ran a hand through her hair, exasperated. "I was trying to keep the peace. You don’t know how complicated it is-"

"I don’t know?" You twisted to face her, your head still throbbing, but the rage from last night was creeping back in. "You think I don’t know what it’s like to deal with entitled narcissists who think they’re the smartest people in the room? I write about people like Miles for a living."

Claire sighed, fingers pressing into her temple. "I know it wasn’t fair to you."

You rolled onto your back, throwing an arm over your eyes. "No, it wasn’t."

A beat of silence. "I’m sorry."

You turned your head just slightly, peeking at her from under your arm. "You should be."

Then she shifted, her leg slotting between yours, her lips trailing lower.

"Claire," you warned.

"Mmm?" Her teeth grazed the edge of your jaw, her grip on your waist tightening.

"You don’t get to leave me and then fuck me," you snapped, waving a weak hand toward her.

Claire smirked, completely unapologetic, fingers dancing higher up your thigh. "No?"

You glared at her, but you were still so hungover, and she was so warm and soft and-

"Baby," she murmured, pressing a kiss right below your ear. "Let me make it up to you."

You wanted to stay mad.

You really did.

But then she was kissing your neck, slow and deliberate, her hand gripping your thigh just right to make your hips can’t against the muscle of her leg, her voice all low and sweet and devoted, like she would spend the whole day proving how sorry she was if you just let her. Your heart ached a little. You were still mad. But you also still loved her.

“Please” you breathed shakily, hips rocking steadily now. “I love you”

“I love you babygirl” Claire cooed.

Then… Miles’ voice crackled over the speakers:

“Disruptors! Breakfast is prepared! Make your way to the deck.”

“Oh come ON”

#kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #claire debella #claire debella x reader #glass onion #glass onion knives out #Kathryn Hahn x gem!reader

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phthalomushroom · 3 months ago

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The Family (7)

pairings: modern!mafia!aemondxreader

summary: You had left Kings Landing and the Targaryen family four years ago. Now back and living with your old roommate you realize that the life you had thought you escaped had seemingly been waiting for you. But will the family really let you go? Will the people you left behind forgive you? Can you forget the past and look to the future?

warnings: language, angst, sexual tension

word count: 1.2k

note: hi all, apologies for not posting for a bit, life got crazy and I low-key got the ick... as well as writers block... but I will persevere. Enjoy this chapter I will do my best to get back to weekly posts!

You couldn’t get those boxes out of your head. All the baby toys, the clothes, the crib. It was the only thing you could see as you stared at the dark wall across from where you sat on the bed. Luckily, you had texted Baela about the situation and she was on her way with Jace to come pick you up.

A part of you felt bad for ruining their date night but you were NOT going to stay the night here.

Especially not in this room.

Aemond and Alys’s shared bedroom looked nothing like you would have imagined. Not that you would even think to imagine it- actually you never even thought that they’d actually live together at all.

Even though there seemed to be no evidence of Aemond’s fiancée downstairs, there was plenty of evidence in this room. Pictures of the two together littered the walls, the nightstands, the dresser. Evidence of their clearly real and loving relationship.

And to your dismay it fucking hurt.

Alys would be a mother to Aemond’s child, she would be the strong wife he always needed and you would be a memory, a brief moment in his life.

Nothing more than a highschool sweetheart.

A silent, cold anger seemed to fizzle in the pit of your stomach, like a rattling snake setting to strike.

You were just a phase but yet your life seemed to be in danger again.

Lies were being told again.

Secrets were being kept again.

The door to the room opened, Aemond coming in with mugs of something steaming.

“I think I should go.” You crossed your arms, your tone rattled a warning.

Aemond looked up, brows furrowing. He set the mugs on the dresser and put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t care what you want.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

You uncrossed your arms ready to strike. “I’m tired of this shit.”

“What are you talking about?”

It wasn’t a lie, you did feel tired, tired of trying to be an adult and tired of being the bigger person. At some point you were bound to start telling the truth, you needed to. “She’s pregnant.”

He arched his brow. “What?”

You stood from the bed. “I saw the room, the boxes of baby stuff. I saw it all.”

He frowned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You stepped closer. “Don’t know what I’m talking about? I know that I’m talking about how you fucking proposed to Alys Rivers. I’m talking about how you asked me to marry you and that doesn’t seem to fucking matter anymore. I’m talking about the fact that you got her pregnant and now I’m going to have to fucking live in the same city as you, your wife and your child. And that none of what we went through together matters.” You took a deep breath.

Why is it not me? Desperately you wanted to say it but you just couldn’t let yourself open up to him all the way yet. Not with the room full of a future that wasn’t yours next door.

He looked at you incredulously. “You… you never wanted this life.”

“But I always wanted you.”

He continued to stare at you, like he was looking at you for the first time since you had arrived back.

You began to feel self conscious, maybe you said too much. “Say something.”

He rushed forward grabbing your face in his large hands and pressing his mouth against yours. You froze, not processing what was happening until his tongue pushed into your mouth and he tangled his hands in your hair pulling you even closer to him. Your arms instinctively reached up grabbing the front of his shirt as he was finally knocked out of his daze.

His arms moved down your body, grabbing and squeezing at whatever flesh he could find until he picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked you back towards the bed, setting you down- never breaking the kiss.

He finally pulled away, allowing you to breathe, both of you panting trying to catch your breaths as you stared at one another.

Too familiar, this all felt too familiar. Your heart pounded as you let yourself fall into old habits.

His gaze was soft as he reached out to caress your face, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I will always want you too.”

Your chest tightened as he leaned closer, his kiss gentle this time. But as soon as it started it ended, Aemond pulling away to lean his forehead against yours to take a deep breathe. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your arms.

“But I made a promise to Alys and there’s things I need to take care of before-”

You fully pulled away, moving out from under him to get off of the bed. “What.”

“There are things that I need to do, promises I need to keep in order to-to make sure your safe, to make sure everything is safe and protected.”

You stared at him like he had three heads. “What the fuck are you talking about right now Aemond?”

He moved to get up to pull you to him but you stepped away. “I just need time, just give me time.”

“You had time, almost five years of it and it seems in that time you can’t even get your fucking lies straight.”

“It’s complicated okay, the less people know the better. Just try to trust me, please.”

You stared at him in disbelief. It was like you were having two different conversations. “Is this about business or is this about love?”

“What?”

“Is it business or is it love?”

“(Y/N)-”

“Is it business or is it love, Aemond, that’s all I want to know.”

“It’s complicated.”

Your eyes burned. Fucking unbelievable. “Clearly. But the only person making it complicated here is you. Why can’t it ever be fucking easy with you Aemond? Why can’t you ever tell me the truth?”

He tried to get closer to you. “You know nothing about what is going on. What I am trying to fix, what I am trying to build for-for us.” He reached out to take your hands in his. “I am doing everything in my power to make things right, to make us right but I need more time. Just a little more time.”

You shook your head. “She’s pregnant Aemond, you are out of time.”

Your phone chimed with a text, you quickly pulled it out of your pocket. “That’s Baela, she’s here with Jace.”

“(Y/N)-”

“I am done with the nonsensical answers. I am done with the empty words. I am done with all of it. I never should have come back here, never should have taken that stupid fucking job. I certainly never should have ever let you into my life.”

Tears were beginning to fall now, tears that were long overdue. After so long of bottling it up, after so long of being okay it wasn’t okay anymore. You were broken. You turned to leave, going past the soon to be nursery, going down the stairs, grabbing your bags that you had left and walked straight out of Aemond and Aly’s home.

When you got into Jace’s car, it took everything in you to not fully break down as Baela turned to you from the passenger's seat and asked you what was wrong.

You just shook your head and simply said. “She’s pregnant.”

Tag List: @dixie-elocin @liannafae @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @namelesslosers @tssf-imagines @xcharlottemikaelsonx @yourbane @beary-rambles @a-beaverhausen @lightblindingme

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multiversemittens · 3 months ago

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Stuff I have to gush about in the new audiolog:

It's just the perfect representation of 2006 fanfiction/cringe/emo culture. Especially the drawings.

The way the fam is just so supportive of Boy and he doesn't feel he needs to hide his hobbies from them.

Big D would eat a boulder for Boy.

Boy is a better writer than most Hollywood professionals (so are the HTP writers).

Boy's mother reveal?!

Loved the tangent about kappas. I have a sea otter named Kappa in one of my book series.

Kitten and Marckus continue being the best couple (casually making fun of each other is how British people show our love).

D is a fellow Weird Crystal Person. Apparently that isn't part of WoD lore, D is just Like That.

I love how Boy's fountain of knowledge works. He knows about Gilgamesh, Baudhayana, and Jackson Pollock but he doesn't know what commas are.

The very fact that Ogre Poppenang went so deep into Crazy Frog lore.

The fact there are British vampire punks in Japan.

Beyblade reference!! I spent most of the 2000s writing equally cringe Beyblade fanfiction (actually that's how I met the guy I'm now married to).

The fact Marckus is so moved by the character based upon him and how much Boy looks up to him.

Wasn't expecting to hear Door talking about art. I want to take Door to a modern art museum just to hear him complain.

Actually I think this story might be a movie from MST3K.

Boy meets the Almighty in his dreams.

Poor Boy is clearly using his fanfiction as a distraction from his trauma.

The conversation between D and Door at the end. Whilst they do force Boy into vampire hunting and give him alcohol, they clearly care for his well-being and it's heart breaking.

#hunter: the parenting #h:tp #hunter the parenting #htp #htp boy

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reignpage · 1 month ago

Note

The random chill questions for the modern jjk au are so much fun! I read that you do it just to ease back into writing, but it actually adds so much depth to the characters. It’s so cool thank you for that.

My question for them is where they’ll go for vacation? And like how they spend their vacation time? Arguing nonstop? Sex all day long? Going from one attraction to another?

yuhhh, because the smaus don't cover every conversation they have but rather stand as snapshots which represent the kind of convos they have and I only write three or four in between fics, there's bound to be a limitation on how much depth the audience gains on the characters so the questions can be important

gojo and reader:

they go sightseeing at night. they like to venture around Europe because reader likes the gothic architecture still standing. and whilst she doesn't hate the sun or anything stereotypical, she does hate being stared at. and that's fine by gojo, cause they do spend the whole day sleeping in, ordering room service, sex, more sleeping and then it's party all night

geto and reader:

they do road trips. either quick ones at night on the motorbike or long hauls in a luxury trailer. they go camping. they both like the privacy and connecting with nature and fresh air and shit. they'll go into the local village or town, attend farmer's markets, paint by a lake, sex under the moonlight.

choso and reader:

they go everywhere. they love adventuring and hiking. it's a mix of city life, going to art galleries and museums, and also going up mountains, trekking into rainforests and safaris etc. they both like learning about new cultures and seeing all the different artistic styles and architectures, getting inspired. they rough it up, backpacking cause that's how reader rolls

toji and reader:

they're both living humbly on a coach's and writer's salary so they travel once or twice a year. they go to major cities during the winter, mostly on invitation from their friends like sukuna and gojo. and during summer, they go to places like the Canary Islands and just laze around on the beach. they don't do much exploring cause toji only cares about getting some vitamin d, swimming and sex. and reader is way too tired and too sweaty to care about anything else.

nanami and reader:

they travel 3-4 times a year. reader's family is wealthy so she's used to skiing and staying in 5 star hotels and resorts. that very much continues well into adulthood since they go on family trips often. but with just the two of them, nanami likes to go to old cities like London and Paris for the architecture, the museums, the bookstores etc. nanami drags reader around and she dislikes it but she does like seeing him happy and excited. it's not about sex in those moments, it's about connecting. but when it's her turn to choose, she takes him to the Maldives and the Bahamas where they just have lots and lots of sex.

sukuna and reader:

private islands only. they don't like people. you know that honeymoon montage in twilight, it's that minus the supernatural powers. it's just a lot of exploring and hiking, of swimming in rivers and at sea, playing chess with the sunset as their backdrop. a lot of outdoor sex. crazy. and despite not possessing vampiric strength, somehow their bed always ends up like in twilight.

#reignpageasks #modern au

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madelynraemunson · 10 months ago

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CASUAL part 2

see part one here.

modern!incel!asshole! eddie x fem!reader

It’s 7 in the morning. Eddie is seen doom-pacing in the halls of Hawkins High.

a/n: i promised y’all part 2 so here ya go. let’s make him pay. 💋 also shout out to @love-anonymous-writer for bringing this universe to life. a little angst here and there is good for the soul <3

who got the last laugh?

[WC: 1.1k words]

“Please respond…please respond…please respond…”

The soles of Eddie’s shoes slam against the tiles of Hawkins High as he rushes to your locker. Meanwhile his entire soul has left his body.

You didn’t answer any of his phone calls. All the texts he sent you were left on read. Having been so accustomed to your instant replies, Eddie essentially catapulted himself into a full-blown panic last night when he saw the ominous text you sent him...and the nothingness from you that followed soon after.

The crickets of Forrest Hills that taunted his eardrums later that night served as a vengeful metaphor of the brick wall you built between you and him. The girl who once gave him everything has now started giving him nothing. You’re nowhere, but everywhere. It’s like you’ve become a ghost.

When he sees you, color drains from Eddie’s guilty face. You look so beautiful today, hair curled down to the small of your back, a nice simple dress and some slippers, with makeup ever so gracefully applied. A class act, even when plagued with the utmost disrespect.

“Hi," he says to you as he approaches.

“Hi.”

As far as Munson knows, he no longer exists to you. He's a shadow now, a carapace of a boy you used to love 'cuz now — after hearing what you heard in his trailer — you know he's not the same boy that made you feel all the butterflies. That boy is long gone. You even start to wonder if that version of Eddie even existed.

“C-can we talk, please?” he requests.

“What’s to talk about?” you challenge him, stoically. “Don’t wanna annoy you with my rambling.”

“You never annoy me…” he attempts as you mindlessly comb through your locker for your homeroom notebook.

“Mm.”

You were casual about it. Too casual about it.

“You… uh…” he clears his throat. “You made me cookies yesterday?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I was at your door for quite a while so you must’ve been busy. Cookies were taken care of though.”

“I see…” Eddie mutters as the pieces all start coming together.

He thinks about how he always leaves his windows cracked open. His uncle would whoop his ass if he hot-boxed the trailer again, so it became a habit. But the trailer park is small, and on certain afternoon, if someone from a nearby unit had dropped a pin, Eddie would hear it. Suddenly, fear arises in him.

Surely, you didn't hear everything he and The Boys™️ said. He had his headphones on and he couldn't have possibly been that loud, could he? Unless technology failed him again.

The warning bell sounds throughout the halls and you excuse yourself from the narrative. Eddie tags after you like a lost puppy, nearly tripping on his shoelaces along the way.

"W-wait!"

The first class of the morning is homeroom. A class you unfortunately shared with Eddie, Grant, and Harmony.

You didn't want to see any of their faces. Eddie's face would serve as a reminder of how fake and construed the fucker is. Grant's would remind you of how insignificant you were to the guys (despite how welcomed they made you feel at the start). And Harmony. Harmony's beautiful face — with a body far too developed for a girl in her grade to match — would only remind you of the fact that the girl didn't inherently do anything to you... other than be beautiful and get caught in the crossfire of horny, greasy teenage boys.

It’s a fucking mess.

You swallow hard and keep your chin up regardless. Because what other choice do you have? You either feign your confidence or let irrelevant boys crush it.

You continue strutting over to your seat as Eddie trails behind at a measurable distance. Along the way, you inevitably run into the Junior Queen of Hawkins High herself, Harmony Heathers.

Harmony issues you a sweet smile. You smile back at her in return. And you didn't even need to turn your back to know that Eddie most likely did a double-take when sliding past her.

The late bell rings, indicating the start of class.

“Okay,” your homeroom teacher Mrs. Helleck exhales as she clasps her hands together. “Good morning everybody. For Red Ribbon Week this week, we’re gonna be doing a group project. Worth 20-percent of your grade.”

The class erupts in agonistic groans while Mrs. Helleck attempts to calm them down. You feel Eddie’s gaze burn into you, indicative to the fact that he was looking forward to using you again like he always seems to do. This time around it would be for a grade instead of a two-pump fuck. But you had something else in mind.

“You will be doing a presentation,” Helleck continues. “With a partner of your choice. Your job is to create a slogan along with a list of reasons why you should stay away from drugs.”

“Drugs Instead of Hugs,” Grant mutters to Eddie.

The general vicinity collectively praises his lukewarm wannabe 4-Chan edged joke.

You roll your eyes while your poor homeroom teacher tries to proceed with her instructions, despite the immature snickers.

“You will be presenting with your partner on Friday. Do not wait until last minute to do this assignment please. Deadlines catch up to you fast.”

Mrs. Helleck makes her way over to you.

Like Dungeons and Dragons, everyone in the class is assigned a “classroom role”. You’re the leader of the pack, the ‘foreman’, to which you never understood because up until today you never had the confidence to call the shots. The alphabet has never been on your side anyways.

“Now dear,” your teacher smiles down at you. “Since your last name starts with an A, you get first choice. Who would you like to work with?”

Eddie’s gaze is extra fixated on you now. It gives you a greater deal of satisfaction than tossing those cookies ever did. It was you who had the reigns now, instead of those woman-patronizing incels.

You start to smile connivingly, to which the guys start to gulp over. You can tell they’re putting two and two together, their two brain cells collectively working over time to discover that you had a delicious upper-cut up your sleeve.

It’s the very least they can do. If they wanted to taint your name to smithereens in your absence, you’re sure as hell going to give them something else to lose their minds about in Math 3.

And when all eyes are fixated on you, you tilt your chin up to project your voice. You want to make sure everyone, especially Grant and Eddie, hear you loud and clear when you sinisterly announce,

“I pick Harmony.”

tag list: @damp4eddie @eddiesguitarskills @babygirl229 @love-anonymous-writer @ziggeddie @socially-awkward-eliza @shesahellfirebabe @ali-r3n @yourdailymemedelivery @mincloud @jupitersnights @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @whisperingtales @fearlessreid @emma-munson

divider by: @benkeibear

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson mini series #requests #maddy’s requests 🍸#part 2 #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you

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atomicami · 1 year ago

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omg HIII. could you maybe like- write abt like abby and reader at school (in college obvi) and abby pulls reader into a bathroom and like makes sure it’s empty and locks the door, and things get uh.. hot and heavy?🤭

U DONT HAVE TO IF U DONT WANNA BUT THIS IDEA POPPED INTO MY HEAD AND IM A SHIT WRITER AND HAVE SHIT GRAMMER.

btw, ur awesome.

hi anon! i hope you don’t mind, i changed the setting to a college/frat party instead, but i hope you like it though! tysm for the love 🤍

all clear

abby anderson x fem!reader (college au)

- summary: it’s halloweekend, and after a lot of convincing, you reluctantly agree to be dina’s plus one to a costume party that’s being hosted at her boyfriend’s frat house. the night flies by slow for you, until an encounter with a certain classmate changes that.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, reader and abby are in college (as stem majors), reader is a little introverted, frat house setting, college partying, some alcohol consumption, bathroom hookup, kinda softdom!abby, oral & fingering (r!receiving), reader is wearing heels, and abby tells you to keep them on, nicknames instead of y/n (mostly angel), and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything else

- author’s note: happy halloween everyone! i’ve been having a bit of writer’s block with my bfm!abby fic lately, so i have to admit the timing for this request was perfect since it gave me the inspiration to write out this fic. i hope you guys like it!

“I still don’t get why you won’t come join me.”

You let out a sigh, taking your eyes off of your laptop and looking over at Dina, who was currently getting ready.

“Because, Dina, I’ve told you a million times that parties are not my thing,” you reply. “Especially if it’s in one of those awful frat houses.”

For the past week now, Dina’s been trying to get you to come to a costume party that’s being hosted at her boyfriend’s fraternity, Sigma Chi. It’s known to be one of the biggest fraternities at your university, and it’s also known for throwing the biggest parties.

The thing is, unlike Dina, you could honestly care less about college parties. What was the point of drinking and partying all night long when you’d just end up passing out and forgetting everything the next morning? You didn’t see the fun in it. If anything, you’d rather be spending a Saturday night curled up in your bed with a movie than getting blackout drunk and waking up hungover on some random person’s couch.

Dina finishes zipping up her skirt before turning around to face you. “But it’s Halloweekend…Don’t you wanna get out of here for a bit, and have some fun?” she asks. “I seriously don’t get how our dorm doesn’t give you any claustrophobia.”

You let out a chuckle and roll your eyes. “I think I’ll be fine, Dee. Besides, I need to study for my chemistry midterm next week.”

Dina lets out a groan in response. “You’re seriously going to spend this night locked up in our dorm studying?” You watch as she walks over to your bed with her black over-the-knee boots in hand and sits down next to you to put them on. “I truly love you babe, but you have got to let loose a little.”

You look over to your side as Dina goes on while she zips up her boots. “Besides…” she continues, zipping up her second boot. “There’s a possibility that a certain classmate of yours might be there…” she says with a wink as she nudges your shoulder with hers.

The ‘certain classmate’ that Dina was referring to was Abigail Anderson. She was also a STEM major just like you, but particularly majoring more towards the engineering field instead. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t find her attractive, but you never found the desire to go for her simply because you felt like she was out of your league. You figured that she only saw you as nothing more than a classmate who would always sit in the back row during every lecture.

You shake your head and roll your eyes at Dina. “Just because Abby and I have the same chemistry class doesn’t mean we have actual chemistry, you know.”

“Okay, but she’ll probably still be there…maybe this party could be an opportunity for you to create some of that chemistry…” she replies back, nudging your shoulder once again.

Dina was most likely right about that. Abby didn’t seem like much of a party person either, but her best friend Manny sure was. Coincidentally, both Manny and Jesse just happened to be in the same fraternity together, which created a mutual connection between the two of you. And given that both Abby and Manny were on the market right now, chances are that she was going to be at that party too.

But as much as Dina was trying to convince you to go right now, you were trying your best to hold back.

“Well even if I did want to go…I still have a midterm to study for, so I still can’t come,” you said, pointing toward your laptop screen.

Once you turned around, you didn’t see the smirk that was growing on Dina’s face. She was so close to getting you to give in and join this party with her.

You felt the weight of your bed shift as Dina got up and walked around to where she was now standing in front of you. “You can study tomorrow,” she says, closing your laptop shut. “Come on, we’re going to the frat house.”

“But I don’t have a—”

“You can find something in my closet.” she interrupts back, pointing towards her closet. “Now start getting ready, I'm gonna go fix up my hair so we can leave.”

You watch as Dina picks up the set of bunny ears off her bed and walks to the bathroom, the sound of her clicking boots following along with her. After a moment of hesitation, you finally muster up the energy to get off of your bed and walk over to Dina’s closet to pick something out.

Your eyes meet with a crammed closet of clothes once you open the doors of her closet. As a roommate, Dina was one to keep her things organized, but when it came to her clothes, it was like an addiction. Her closet was so packed that if one more hanger were to go inside, you’re convinced that it would probably burst.

Taking a deep breath, you dive into her closet and dig around for her past party costumes, praying you’ll find a good candidate to wear for the party. You’ll have to admit that it's definitely not gonna be an easy task, given that Dina is obsessed with all things tight and revealing when it comes to going out, especially with costumes.

You fish out a few costumes from her closet and bring them over to your bed, spreading them all out to get a good look. At first glimpse of the costumes, you realize that none of these options are a good fit for you, so you try your best to pick the best option through the process of elimination:

Schoolgirl? No…

Nurse? Not really…

Cowgirl? Perhaps…

Mermaid? Absolutely not.

Eventually, you’ve narrowed your choices until there was just one option left: an angel costume.

You pick up the costume off of your bed and take a look at it. The outfit consisted of a white tie front corset top, paired with a white skirt and thigh highs, and topped off with a halo and large feathered wings. Out of all the costumes that Dina had in her collection, you figured that this one would be the most suitable for you.

The bathroom door opens, and you look up to see Dina now fully ready in her Playboy bunny costume. She smiles once she sees the costume in your hands. “That’s a perfect choice, and I even have the shoes to match with it,” she says, pointing at it. You then feel her hands on your hips, motioning you towards the bathroom. “Now go get ready! I don’t wanna miss the party!”

Yeah, this was going to be a long night for you.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸 .𖥔 ݁ ˖🕷️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

The two of you arrive at the Sigma Chi frat house, and you can already tell how packed it is just by looking at it. Music was blasting, multicolor lights flashing through the windows, and even a group of guys chugging a keg on the front lawn. The sight of it alone was already making you start to feel sick. You’re starting to wish you were back at your dorm now, studying as you were before Dina dragged you to this party. But it was too late to back out now.

You both approach the front door of the house, and Dina rings the bell. A smile soon appears on her face once she sees Jesse answering the door.

“Hey you!” she exclaims, leaning in to give her boyfriend a hug and kiss before pulling away to adjust his hat. Based on the red velvet robe, anchor chain, and captain’s hat, it's clear that Jesse was dressed up as Hugh Hefner to match up with his girlfriend.

Jesse smiles back at her before looking over to you, his eyes slightly widening in surprise. “Wow, I did not expect you to be here too,” he says to you.

Dina looks back at you before looking back at Jesse. “Believe me, you have no idea how much convincing it took me to get her to come join me,” she says to him.

Jesse simply nods in response, his eyes now on the both of you. “Well in that case, welcome to Sigma Chi,” he says, stepping towards the side to allow you two to come in. “Make yourselves at home, there are drinks and food in the kitchen, and whatever you guys do, please don’t fuck with the thermostat…the electric bills in this house are already fucking expensive as it is. But other than that, knock yourselves out.”

As soon as you enter the house, you realize that it is just as chaotic as you saw it from the outside. The night’s just getting started, and you truly have no idea when it’s gonna end.

Before you know it, 20 minutes have passed by, but to you, it feels more like a decade. You were upstairs, sitting on a couch, watching Dina and Jesse play beer pong with another couple. You’ve drank less than half of the Twisted Tea that’s in your hand, simply because you had thought at the time that it was just a regular iced tea when you picked it out of the cooler. The music and lighting were overbearing, and the corset and heels were practically suffocating your chest and feet by now. You wanted nothing more than to leave the frat house and head back to your dorm to rid yourself of this feeling.

But instead, you stand up from the couch, deciding to opt for a different drink from the kitchen downstairs. Before leaving you walk over to Dina and tap her on the shoulder to let her know. “I’m gonna get another drink,” you tell her loudly, hoping she can hear you over the music. Dina looks down at your drink and nods. “Get something stronger next time! I think Jesse has a bottle of Smirnoff in the liquor cabinet!” she shouts back at you.

You simply sigh and walk out of the room, the hard iced tea still in your hand. You look down and watch the liquid sloshing around in the small hole of the can until you bump yourself into a familiar figure.

“Shit!” you mutter quietly, almost spilling your drink. “I’m so sorry, I—“ your words get cut off as soon as you look up to see who you have just run into. “Abby?”

“Hey there,” she said with a smile, looking back down at you. “I didn’t expect to see you at this party…what brings you here?”

“Oh, I um…” you stammer, looking back into the room you had just walked out of before turning back to her. “Dina wouldn’t stop begging me to come so…I’m here.” You tell her.

Abby nodded in response, finally putting the pieces together. “Makes sense, I definitely figured you wouldn’t be a party person, not that it’s a bad thing though.” she tells you. You can’t help but notice her checking you out, her eyes trailing over the angel costume that was tightly hugging your figure. “This costume looks pretty on you,” she says, running her thumb and pointer finger through the large feathered wings that were on your back.

You try your best not to get flustered over her compliment. “Thank you, um…” you take a moment to look at what she was wearing. She had on her usual clothes, dark wash jeans, and a muscle tank, except she had on a backward snapback hat with the fraternity’s emblem printed on it. “Are you…supposed to be a Sigma Chi member?” you ask.

You hear the blonde let out a chuckle before nodding again. “Yeah, um…costumes are never really my thing, so this is really all I can come up with,” she tells you. “Besides, Manny dragged me into coming to this party anyway, so I figured I’d steal something out of it.”

You smile back at her response before letting out a chuckle as well. “Well, it suits you, Abs…” you let out a sigh before continuing. “If I’m being honest, I’m so glad I ran into you…This night has been flying by so slow for me,” you admit to her, briefly looking down at the ground.

That’s when an idea passed through Abby’s mind. However, she needed to know if you were up for it. “I can help it fly by faster, if you'd like…”

You looked back up at her, and you truly couldn’t hide the smirk that was appearing on your face. “Is that so?” you ask her. “What do you have in mind, exactly?”

She doesn’t respond right away, but instead reaches a hand out to you. “How about you come with me?” she offers, smirking back at you.

You hesitate for a moment before soon giving in, leaving your drink at the nearest surface you can find before grabbing her hand and following her. She walks you down the crowded hall before stopping at a door that was on her left, assuming that it might be a bedroom or bathroom. She opens the door with no hesitation, only to be greeted with an angry couple protesting from inside.

“Shit! Sorry!” she exclaimed, quickly closing the door again. She then turns to you and you can’t help but let out a laugh, leading her to shake her head at her poor decision to do that. “Come on, I think there’s another bathroom downstairs.

With your hand still being held by hers, you walk down the stairs with her until you get back to the first level of the frat house. You then feel her hand letting go only to snake itself around your waist, holding you close to her broad build as you both walk through the partying crowds of people. Abby soon stopped at a door that was on her right, this time knocking twice before slowly turning the doorknob to take a peek inside.

You also try to take a look inside to see if it is empty. “All clear?” you ask her.

She nods in response. “All clear.”

You then feel her hand moving over your wings down to the small of your back, motioning you to go inside first before entering herself, closing the door shut, and locking it.

The last bit of patience you had left was now gone the moment you stepped into the bathroom. Once Abby had turned around after locking the door and switching the light on, you grabbed her by her muscle tank and pulled her toward you in a kiss. As soon as the contact hits her, you can feel her lips smirking against yours in the kiss. One of her large hands rests at your waist while the other runs through your hair, causing the plastic halo on your head to fall and clatter on the ground.

You try your best not to trip on your heels as she slowly walks you backward toward the bathroom counter that was by the sink. Her hands that were on your waist and in your hair soon moved down to the back of your thighs, giving you a boost to lift you and sit you down on the counter.

Abby pulls her lips away from yours to get a good look at you, smiling as she does so. Your lips were plump from kissing her, your hair slightly messy from when she was running her hands through it, and your eyes were blown out with lust and desperation for her. “Look at you, my angel…” she murmurs, running a thumb through your lower lip line. “So beautiful for me.

Her hand trails down to the front of your corset top, fingertips landing on the silk ribbon that held it all together. “Is it okay if I untie this?” she asks, holding her eye contact with you.

You nod.

“Words, angel.”

“Please, Abby…” you whisper out to her. To Abby, that response was more than enough for her to start undressing you. The ribbon from your corset begins to loosen, and you instantly feel a wave of relief wash through you. Once the ribbon was undone, Abby then uses both of her hands to loosen the rest of it, just enough to free your tits out.

A whimper escapes from your mouth once you feel Abby’s hands on your breasts, your nipples instantly hardening from her touch alone. “God…such pretty tits…” she murmurs out to you, leaning in to quickly kiss down from your neck to your tits, her mouth latching onto one of them and gently sucking while her hand is gently squeezing the other.

More whimpers and whines escape from your mouth at the contact, followed by your thighs rubbing and clenching together. Abby was quick to notice that, removing her mouth and hands from your tits as a result. She takes off her snapback and tosses it to the ground next to your halo before getting down on her knees in front of you.

Once Abby was kneeling on the ground, that’s when you decide to remove your heels, desperate to get them off of your feet. Abby notices this as well, and catches one of your heels before it fals to the ground. “Leave them on, angel.” she tells you, slipping the heel back on your foot. “You look so fucking sexy in these.”

Normally, you’d just protest about how much they were bothering you and take them off anyway. But you simply oblige to keep them on for Abby’s sake. You were willing to go through it a little longer to stay on her good side. You wanted to be good for her. You wanted to be her angel.

Her hands are now making their way up your thighs, stopping at the bottom hem of your skirt. She then bunches the tight fabric that was hugging your hips before pushing it up, allowing more space for you to spread your legs open for her. Her eyes were now met with your clothed cunt, along with a visible patch seeping out of your white thong. She soon hooks a finger underneath the fabric and shifts it to the side, revealing your wet pussy from underneath it.

The sight of your pussy alone already had her mouth watering. Your slick was glistening under the dim, incandescent light of the bathroom and your tight hole was visibly clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.

“Fuck…” she groaned out quietly as she gently ran two of her fingers over the surface of your cunt, collecting a bit of your slick in the process. “Is this all for me, angel?” she asks, looking up at you.

“M-Mhm…” you whimpered back, nodding quickly. “It’s all for you, Abby, please…”

Abby averts her gaze back down to your pussy, watching as your slick trails itself down to the bathroom counter. She was soon quick to dive her head in and lick an experimental stripe up your pussy to collect your slick on her tongue, achieving the taste of you as she did so.

“My god, angel…you even taste just as heavenly as you look right now,” she mutters out quietly.

Abby wasn’t lying about that. From her perspective, you were truly a sight for sore eyes right now. Legs spread out for her, head thrown back in pleasure with the material of your costume bunched up around your waist and hips to show the parts of you she wanted to see the most, all while your wings remained steady on your back, surrounding your precious figure. You truly looked heavenly in her eyes, and the sounds you were making from her touch sounded just as angelic as you looked right now.

Without delaying any longer, Abby inserts two of her fingers into your pussy, The sudden movement startles you for a bit, before your cunt soon begins to relax around her fingers.

“Look at that, angel…she’s taking my fingers so well…” she murmurs to you, watching as your pussy greedily sucks her fingers further inside. “This pussy is already doing so good for me, baby…I bet you’ve been wanting this for a while now, haven’t you?”

You nod quickly once again. “G-God, yes, Abs…I need you so bad..” you whimper back to her biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning any louder.

Abby notices once again, and brings her free hand up to your bottom lip to free it from the grasp of your teeth. “There’s no need for that, angel…I need to hear those pretty sounds of yours.”

With her fingers still nestling inside your cunt, she brings her mouth to your throbbing clit, gently sucking on it as she slowly pumps her fingers in and out of you.

It didn’t take long for the speed of her fingers to increase. The faster her two fingers pounded into your pussy, the harder her lips would wrap around on your clit, taking away all of the space in between as she continued to suck on it.

As a result of her fast movements, the sounds your body was making in that bathroom were absolutely obscene. Between the wet squelching noises of your pussy and the moans and whimpers that were escaping from your mouth, Abby can’t help but feel so turned on from it, practically rubbing her own thighs together for some relief as she continued to devour your pussy.

Your orgasm quickly began to build itself up inside you, and based on the way your cunt was squeezing Abby’s fingers right now, she could tell you were getting close too.

“A-Abby…I-I think I’m gonna cum…” you whine out to her, both of your hands gripping onto the bathroom counter while your hips begin to involuntarily grind against her face.

“Let it out for me, angel…” she murmurs into your pussy, her movements still refusing to quit. “Take it out on me, baby…fuck my face until you finish, just like that…”

Your hips rut against your mouth a few more times, along with the involuntary movements of your pussy tightly clenching around her fingers and your clit pulsing in her mouth.

You instantly finish into her mouth and onto her fingers with a loud moan of her name, followed by your thighs trembling right after your climax. Thank God that the party’s music from outside was loud enough to keep anyone else from hearing what was going on inside.

Abby soon removed her mouth from your pussy while slowing the pace of her fingers, fucking you through it as you progessively recover from your orgasm. You hear a quiet groan escape from her mouth as she pulls her fingers out of you, watching as your cunt pushes out your thick white release and let it drip its way down to the counter. You watch her do the same movement from before, licking another stripe up your pussy to collect the rest of your release onto her tongue.

Once you were clean, Abby removes each of your legs off of her shoulders and pulls herself away from your pussy, wiping whatever that was smeared on her face with the back of her hand.

Abby then picks herself up off the floor and stands in between your legs to fix up your costume. Once you were all good, she helps you get off of the counter and back on your feet.

You reach over to pick up your halo off of the ground, Abby also doing the same with her snapback. “Thank you again for that, Abby…This definitely made my night.” you tell her, biting your lip again to hide back your smile.

The blonde smiles at you in response. “Of course, angel, its no problem…” she takes a quick breath before continuing. “You know…you can spend the night at my place, if you’d like..” she offers to you, nervously rubbing the back of her head as she does so.

You smile back at her and nod, your eyes beaming at her blue ones. “I would love that, actually.”

Abby then turns the knob and opens the door, revealing the chaotic atmosphere of the party once again. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” she tells you, keeping her hand back around your waist and by her side.

From that point forward, it was safe to say that the rest of that night was anything but slow for the both of you.

- a/n: i’m so sorry if this looks rushed, i really wanted to have this out by today! @ anon if you’re out there i hope you enjoyed it 🙏🏻

happy halloween y’all, stay safe for me tonight 🤍

tags 🏷️: @ourautumn86 @abbyscherry @whore4abby @zombholic @catfern

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asumofwords · 1 year ago

Text

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst (come on its me), feelings of sadness and betrayal, discussion of domestic abuse.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: I was stuck in a bit of a writers funk there for a moment, but I think I'm out of it which hopefully means I can start slanging dick from my requests. Also as a side note, abusive relationships are really hard to escape, and often very confusing for the victims and people around them. Anywaaaaay, enjoy! <3

Chapter 11: Scars Of The Past

Work had been something you wished would go faster, eyes cast up to the clock on your wall, watching the seconds tick by painfully slow.

You glanced intermittently at the time on your computer, or the one on the screen of your phone. The day seemed to crawl at a snails pace as you eagerly wished to get home to see him.

Aemond had changed, for the better, and the dynamic that had grown between the two of you had, in your opinion, perhaps gone past a casual escapade.

Cregan had never spent days on end with you in your bed, nor had he cooked every single night for you. Nor had he read to you, or indulged you in your every want and wish.

This was much different to the casual dynamic that you had with Northerner, and the more you thought about it, the more you wondered what you were to Aemond. Did he feel the same way? Was he too having these thoughts today? Watching to clock slowly roll by as he waited at home for you?

Was he jogging to fill the time until you would return?

Did he feel the same pull? The same shift? The same longing for more?

It was something that you clearly needed to talk about, and something that you planned to tonight. You weren’t one to beat around the bush, and you felt that Aemond was the same.

When the clock finally struck 5, and the work day ended, you all but raced from the office and to the train, stopping by the grocery store to buy ingredients to cook him your favourite meal, grabbing your shared favourite ice cream tub to share afterwards as a treat.

You had to force yourself to not skip home, a sweet giddiness spreading into your chest warmly as you sped walked with grocery bags in tow, work bag slung over your shoulder. Your heart raced in your chest as you thought of if he would like your meal.

It raced even faster when you began to roll words around your mind on how to ask him what this was. It was too heated to be casual. Too chemical to be a one time thing. Too high strung for just a month of fun. And you had hopes that it would continue after Helaena came back.

Helaena.

That was another hurdle that you would eventually have to take.

After your talk with Aemond, of course.

When you got to the door of your apartment, you had to juggle your bags to reach for your keys, placing the groceries on the floor awkwardly as you fished around in your work bag on your shoulder.

When the tips of your fingers sought them out, pulling them from an inside pocket, a sound inside the apartment caused your ears to prick up. It was a sound that should not have been there, all things considered.

Your heart began to race in your chest.

But the sound persisted, low and steady.

Behind the door of your apartment, came the hum of a feminine voice.

Your brows pulled together.

Was Helaena back early? She hadn’t told you that she was coming back yet.

Something uncomfortable settled in your gut.

You pushed your keys in the door and opened it slowly, careful to not make noise, picking up your groceries as quietly as you could to enter, shutting the door behind you. You placed your keys in the bowl, heart sinking into your gut.

You could hear it now, a singsongy purr from a woman and the quieter, softer timbre of Aemond.

You got to the end of the corridor and your eyes fell to the couch.

Aemond’s head flicked up to you, hair tied back away from his face in a low bun, wearing all black with his shoes on.

It looked like he had been out for a run.

His body was tensed, shoulders rolled back and hands in fists at his sides.

Beside him, a woman you recognised.

Alys Rivers sat prim and pretty on your couch.

In your apartment.

Next to your-

Next to Aemond.

She wore a green top that hugged all of her curves, breasts pushed high and forward on her chest, cleavage on show by the low cut of the top. Her waist was tiny, pulled in by high black pants, and on her feet were a pair of shiny, black stilettos. Her dark hair was brushed over her shoulder, long and straight, and her red lips pursed as she looked at you.

Bright green eyes became narrowed, and all of a sudden you felt unwelcome in your own home.

You watched as her lips parted and her tongue pressed into the tip of her canine before she shut her mouth, saccharine smile pulling on her painted red lips as she turned to Aemond, hand rested on his knee.

“Aemy, you didn’t tell me you had a friend coming over.” Her voice was melodic, and if you didn’t know about her character, you would say that she sounded almost sweet.

But you knew it was a sirens song.

Your hands tightened around the bags handles, “I live here.” You grit out.

Alys turned her head back to you, and your eyes stayed on her as her thumb stroked against his knee, his fists tightening at his side, pale knuckles looking paler. But Aemond did not tell her to stop, and only looked at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher.

“Oh.” Alys responded, eyes roaming across the apartment at your furnishings slowly, far too slowly to be admiration, subtle judgement in her eyes, “It’s a lovely home. Quaint.”

Heat rose in your cheeks and you had to force yourself to move, unsticking your feet from the floor. You moved towards the kitchen, sparing Aemond a concerned look as you began putting away all your groceries.

“Thanks.” You told her stiffly, back turned, eyes narrowed at the splash back tiles of the sink.

“How do you and Aemond know each other?” She enquired from behind, and before you could turn to face her and tell her, Aemond answered for you.

“She’s Helaena’s roommate.”

Your heart sank.

Helaena’s roommate.

Not friend.

Not lover.

Not undecided whatever the hell you were.

Helaena’s roommate.

Anger began to rise inside, followed with jealousy and hurt. A most dangerous trio.

You wrenched the freezer open, carelessly tossing the ice cream inside.

Why was she here?

Why did he let her inside?

Why was she touching him?

You turned back to the couch standing in front of Aemond and Alys.

She stood, tall on her long legs and reached a hand out to you, red painted nails like sharp claws pointed at you, “Alys.”

“I know.” You looked at her hand, not dignifying her with your name nor pleasantries.

She was an abuser, and with the way her face fell, the smile dropping completely, you knew the act was all fake.

Alys dropped her hand and stepped back to sit back down on the couch again, using it as an excuse to sit closer to him, thigh against his and hand back on his knee. You watched as Aemond’s eye flicked down to the hand, lips parting as he breathed shallowly.

The tip of her nail scratched against his thigh.

A false laugh fell from her lips, “Bad day at work, I’m guessing?” She smirked at you.

Your teeth ground against each other, “Work was fine. Just wasn’t expecting…” Your eyes flicked to Aemond, wishing he’d look at you, give you any indication that he needed help, but he didn’t, and when his eye met yours, there was resignation in it, “Company.” You spat.

Her pale hand lifted, tucking a strand of stray silver hair that had fallen in front of his face, behind Aemond’s ear.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t shy away.

He sat stiffly and allowed it.

“It was a spur of the moment visit.” A small giggle fell from her lips, “It’s been so long since we have seen each other, and I thought a reunion was in order. We have had a lot to catch up on.”

“Have you?” You asked, but your tone was directed to him.

Please give me a sign you need help.

Give me a sign you want her gone.

Aemond hummed, nodding in agreement.

Your heart sank again.

“I was thinking of cooking-“

“-Oh, we’ve already eaten. Haven’t we?” Alys interrupted you, looking at Aemond with a wide smile.

Your lips parted, and it felt like she had dug her perfectly manicured claws into your chest, gut turning.

Aemond didn’t meet your gaze, eye looking anywhere but you.

“I hope he hasn’t been causing you trouble.” The woman lightly joked, hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

The urge to cry reared its ugly head inside of you.

“He’s been the perfect gentleman.” You responded quietly, feeling all hope be sucked out of you.

You didn’t know what to do.

Another laugh, the sound grating in your ears, “That doesn’t sound like you.” She purred, double meaning not lost on you.

A blush creeped across your cheeks, and Alys narrowed her bright eyes at you once more.

Silence settled over the three of you, and you wished he would say something, or show you a sign that he wanted or needed your help, but no matter how long you stared at him, he refused to meet your gaze.

Alys cleared her throat primly, eyes sweeping across the room in mock discomfort, “I’m sorry, we haven’t spoken in some time.”

She was trying to dismiss you.

In your own home.

The anger was back.

Your arms crossed over your chest.

“And?” You held your ground.

This was his chance.

His last chance of an out if he wanted it.

If he needed it.

Alys sucked her tongue, jaw shifting in annoyance as she looked at you.

She thought this would be easy.

“I had hopes that me and Aemond could catch up…” She looked at you pointedly, “Alone.”

“You’re in my house.” You all but sneered.

“Y/n.” Aemond’s voice finally rose from the couch, but it did nothing but serve as a warning to you.

Stand down.

One last chance.

You looked at Aemond, pleading him with your eyes, asking him if he needed an out wordlessly one last time, but he didn’t take it, nor did it look like he needed it.

Aemond nodded at you with a slow blink.

And there it was.

Your dismissal.

Any hope that you had crashed back down to earth, shattering into a thousand different pieces as Alys smirked at you triumphantly. You set your jaw in a hard line, and turned on your foot, heading straight to your room and closing the door behind you.

Tears immediately overflowed from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks wetly. Sharp pain twisted in your chest and stomach, and a sense of shame and embarrassment curled around you.

How stupid had you been?

Why did you feel this way?

Did he invite her here?

Did he want to get back with her?

Were you nothing to him?

The way he had dismissed you hurt. The way he had stopped you from coming to his defence had hurt. And the way she had looked at you in triumph, the way she had touched him, and the way he didn’t stop her, hurt.

You laid in your bed, not bothering to get changed and cried into your pillow until the room grew dark, and the realm was bathed in night. You laid numbly in bed, stomach grumbling with hunger.

You checked your phone.

10pm.

Fuck.

You didn’t want to go to the kitchen, to eat and see her again. You knew that your eyes would be red, that you would be teary and emotional, and you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

Not too long after, you heard footsteps behind your door, the steady click of heels disappearing down the hall before you heard the front door open and shut softly. Your heart raced in your chest as you sat in the dark, listening and waiting to hear his footsteps disappear into his room so that you could leave yours.

You listened to the soft footfall as it came up the hall, pausing at your door.

Holding your breath, you sat up in your bed, looking under the door, the shadow of two feet blocking the light from the lounge room.

Time seemed to stretch forever and then finally-

Knock Knock.

You let out the breath you had been holding, looking at the crack beneath in the dark, mind turning a million miles an hour.

Do you go to him? See if he was okay?

Do you respect your own need for space?

Did he need comfort?

Was he angry?

A new thought turned in your mind. More bitter than the last.

Why would he be angry?

He’s the one who dismissed you in front of her, and all you could see was her smug smirk at you when he had done it. It had made you feel so small, so foolish, so unwanted and like a child again, sent to bed with no supper.

Knock Knock Knock.

You stared at the door.

You didn’t know what to do.

You didn’t know what you could do.

“Y/n. Please.” His quiet voice came from behind the door.

You blinked in the dark, feeling tears begin to gather in your eyes again. Time stretched, and you watched his feet shift his weight and shuffle.

Aemond sighed from behind the door and you watched as his feet disappeared from view of the light underneath. Your stomach clenched, and an ache spread further into your chest.

You waited until you were sure that he was gone before you crawled out of bed, stomach pulling painfully in hunger.

You pressed an ear to the door, listening for any sounds of him outside, and when you heard no sign of his footsteps or the tv, you decided to leave your room.

You were halfway to the kitchen when you saw him, head in his hands on the couch.

He looked halfway to defeated, shoulders hunched forward as he breathed slowly. But he had heard your approach and you watched as all vulnerability bled out of him and he straightened, lifting his eye to look at you.

You locked in a stare, unsure of what to do as you looked at him, hoping he would speak first, hoping he would make the first move, because you didn’t know how to in that moment.

Didn’t know how to move forward or talk about what had just happened.

It didn’t help that you felt used.

And hurt.

And cast aside.

And you knew it was more complicated than that, but there was just something about the way he had dismissed you in front of a woman who had done so much damage to him. Dismissed you as though you were nothing. Called you his sisters roommate and not even his friend. Acquaintance. Someone he had spent over a month getting to know. Someone he had spent over a week sleeping in their bed, cock or tongue between thighs. Gentle whispers in the morning, soft smiles in the evening.

It made you feel like nothing.

It was clear that Aemond wasn’t going to say anything as you waited another pregnant pause, so you tore your eyes away from him and continued into the kitchen to make yourself some two minute noodles, meal that had been planned for the both of your forgotten.

You could feel his gaze on the back of your head, heated. It made your skin ripple in discomfort.

Filling a pot with water, you set it on the stove to boil, moving as quickly as you could to pull down a bowl and grab the noodle packet from the cupboard, tearing the sachet open and dumping the flavouring into the bowl.

You felt his presence behind you before you heard him speak.

“Are you okay?” He questioned you, and you fought to not scoff.

Why was he asking you that?

“Are you?” You replied back, turning to face him against the bench, waiting for the water to boil.

“I’m fine.” He said flatly, and you raised a singular brow at him in question.

Aemond’s face remained stoic.

“Why was she here, Aemond? If I had known-“

“-Why does it matter?”

You blanched.

Why did it matter?

“What do you mean why does it matter? She abused you, Aemond! I was worried about you.”

His brows pulled into a frown, “She didn’t abuse me. We just fought a lot.”

Denial.

“Aemond,” You said, voice softer this time, “It was abuse.”

Anger rippled across his face, “I wish you would just drop it. I shouldn’t have even told you.”

You stepped back in shock, hip bumping into a drawer handle sharply.

“I won’t just drop it. I’m worried about you.”

Aemond sighed through his nose, “I don’t need you to look after me.”

The water began to boil, and so did your patience, “I’m not saying you need me to. I care about you, Aemond. And so naturally it was a shock to come home and find her in the apartment after what you had told me- what- not even two weeks past?”

“She’s my ex, what did you want me to do?” He asked you incredulously, and you turned to dump the noodles in the water, watching them be swallowed down into the bubbles.

“I just don’t understand why you would bring her here in the first place without even telling me.” You looked up into his eye, and you could tell he was noting the way your own were red and puffy from crying.

His lips pursed and then flattened, “I’ll make sure to tell you before next time.”

“Next time?” You had to force yourself to not yell, feeling anger and sadness swirl around in your gut like a whirlpool, dragging you under.

“I didn’t- She just rocked up.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, but how did she know where you were, Aemond?”

The man stayed quiet, and there was something about it that made you step back away from him.

“Are you getting back with her?” You asked, voice quiet and weak, praying that you didn’t sound as pathetic as you thought you did to your own ears.

Silence again.

You blinked, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes again.

“After everything we- After- I thought-”

“-You thought what?” His voice was cool and even, void of any emotion, as though he had put himself behind a very thick door, lock and key.

“Are you getting back with her?” You asked again, voice uneven, cracking at the end heavily with emotion, thick lump stuck in your throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you swallowed.

Again, silence, though something flickered behind Aemond’s eye, and you watched as his brow pulled froward.

Your heart raced in your chest, “Okay. So what was this then? Was this nothing?”

Aemond’s lips opened and then shut, once, twice, three times before a large sigh came from his lips, “I don’t know.”

Pain ravaged you sharply, tugging at your chest as you looked up at the man. You moved to the pot, straining the water out, turning your face away from him as you blinked away tears.

“You don’t know?”

His gaze was hot on the side of your face as you plopped the noodles into your bowl, turning to face him again, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying. The only thing keeping you together, the process and mechanical way you made your dinner.

“I don’t know anything right now.” Aemond’s voice was low, “My heads a mess. Seeing Alys-”

Oh.

A terrible realisation dawned on you.

He still loves her.

A lone tear fell down your cheek, and you watched as Aemond’s hand twitched at his side, arm beginning to lift towards you.

You shook your head angrily, stepping away, swiping up the bowl of hot noodles, “I need to think.”

“Y/n, wait.”

You didn’t wait, and stormed away to your room, kicking the door shut behind you as you sat down, noodles forgotten beside the bed, sobs wracking your body as you cried.

He still loved her.

He still loved her, and you had been a fool to think that what you shared was anything else than casual to him.

At times you could have sworn his gazes lingered moments too long to be anything casual, but you guess you were wrong.

Wrong about it all.

An idiot.

But some of the grief that you felt was for him. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t see how bad she was for him. Couldn’t see how he didn’t deserve it. He was trapped, and there was nothing you could do to make him see.

People will only accept help if they allow it. And you could not force help on him. It was something he had to come to terms with on his own.

What was more, the guilt inside of you had been steadily eating at your resolve, gnawing away at you as you betrayed your best friend by sleeping with her brother.

But not only that, you think you were falling for him.

You reached for your phone, calling the only person you knew who would listen to you.

“Hey scuttle bug!” Helaena’s voice chirped sleepily from the other end, “Don’t tell me you’re drunk.” She joked, and a sad sob passed through your lips at the sound of it.

She was going to hate you.

She was never going to talk to you again.

And you deserved it.

“Hey,” She cooed into the phone, voice suddenly alert and filled with concern, “What’s wrong?”

You sucked in another sob, chest aching and stomach feeling wrought with anxiety, “You're going to hate me.” You cried, hiccup stuttering your uneven breath, “You’re going to hate me so much, Hel. I’ve ruined everything.”

You heard shuffling in the background, as though Helaena had sat herself up in bed, “What?” She listened to another broken sob come from your chest, “Y/n take some deep breaths, okay?”

You did as she said.

“What’s happened?”

This was it.

It was now or never.

No going back now.

And once the words would leave your lips, you would be banished from her life forever.

You were about to lose two people you held dearly to you.

You swiped tears away from your face in agitation, angry with yourself for what you had done, “I slept with Aemond.”

Silence on the other end.

Your heart broke.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Hel. I’m a terrible friend. I know I fucked up, I just don’t know what to do. I'm sorry. I know you hate me, I-“

“-Hey, hey, hey, slow down, bug. I don’t hate you.”

Your nails dug into your palm as you apologised again and again, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

Helaena tried to calm you on the other end, asking what happened, and so you told her everything, from start to finish, all the way up until your encounter not too long ago, bar the personal things about Alys that Aemond told you. That was his story to tell.

“I know what I’ve done is wrong, and you’ll never forgive me-“

“Y/n,” Helaena cooed on the other end of the phone, “I don’t hate you at all. Disappointed you didn’t tell me sooner, yeah,” You winced, another tear falling from your cheek, “But I had a feeling it would happen.”

You sniffled, “What?”

Helaena laughed on the other end softly, not at you, but in a knowing way that she always had, “I mean, I always assumed it would. You’re both so similar. You’d be perfect if he wasn’t such an asshole.”

“He’s not an asshole.” You immediately defended him, cringing at your own voice.

Helaena hummed in a way that Aemond usually did, and it made your heart clench.

You heard shuffling on the other end of the phone, followed by some muffled whispering.

“Where are you right now?” Helaena asked softly, mumbling to someone again.

Confused you responded, “In my room?”

You thought it would be obvious where you were.

“Daeron’s just organised a ride and a plane for you to come to the Keep.”

You blanched, surprised, “Hel, I can’t. I have work.”

“Fuck work.” She exclaimed on the other side, “My best friend needs me, and I need her. Besides, can’t cancel it now, the drivers on his way.”

“What?” You were breathless, panic rising inside of you.

You heard Helaena yawn on the other end, “Better pack your bag quickly, should be there in like twenty if we’re lucky. I’ll tell mum to tell Larys you need time off. He won’t and can’t say no to her.”

“Hel-“

“No ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’. You’re coming.”

You smiled sadly, grateful that she was such a good friend but feeling like a burden. She was going to fly you to her, whilst her dad was sick, and because what? You had fucked her brother, developed feelings for him, and he had all but rejected you?

But Helaena knew you too well.

“You’re not a burden, and you need some space right now. Aemond does too, and he won’t come here. He needs some time alone to think of what he wants and process seeing Alys.”

You bit your lip and chewed on it softly, “Okay.” You paused not sure what to do, “Thank you, I know I don’t-“

“-Shush. You already had an invitation to come here anyway, so no time like the present. You can atone for your sins by giving me a hug when you get here and telling me the longer story of what has happened. Not to mention get Aegon out of my hair. He’s been such a pest.”

You chuckled softly. You didn’t know what you would do without her, you felt relieved that she wasn’t going to cast you out of her life, though the guilt still lingered, multiplying tenfold by her generosity.

Helaena stayed on the phone with you the entire time as you packed, telling you what to bring and what not to bring. By the time your bag was full and you were ready to go, the driver was downstairs.

You opened your bedroom door, darkness shrouding the apartment.

Your eyes immediately flicked to Aemond’s.

It was closed.

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artist-issues · 2 years ago

Text

About Greta Gerwig, Little Women, and Narnia

Greta Gerwig should not be in the Narnia realm at all. As anything.

The Narnia stories are inseparable from Christianity. Greta Gerwig is a Unitarian Universalist. This means she, in her own personal life, doesn’t believe in the saving work of Jesus Christ, which is a core belief of Christianity, and a core theme in Narnia. Everything in the Narnia books hinges on this, from the character motivations to the structure of the fantasy world to the way the magic in Narnia works.

Additionally, the women in Narnia do not adhere to post-modern or even antique feministic values. They are celebrated for their love and tender-heartedness and faith, all of which require self-sacrifice. Aravis of The Horse and His Boy starts out a proud warrior escaping an arranged marriage and ends up a humbled lady of Archenland court marrying the Prince. Susan Pevensie is at her best when she’s tender-hearted and at her worst when she doubts and becomes more concerned about her own identity than others. The school that Eustace and Jill go to in The Silver Chair is derided for it’s feministic views. By contrast, modern feminism is opposed to self-sacrifice, and that is the kind of thing Greta Gerwig demonstrates belief in throughout all of her works.

Am I saying that no person who isn’t a Christian or some type of conservative when it comes to feminism can ever work on Narnia? Absolutely not. I’m not saying that. Lots of people on the Walden Media Narnia movie (the first one), which was great, were not Christians and did not believe in the saving work of Christ. But they stayed faithful to the source material, even if they didn’t believe in the source material themselves. So the story retained it’s autonomy and power.

Greta Gerwig can’t do that. She has already demonstrated that she does not know how to make a story that hangs on to it’s integral source material if she, herself, doesn’t agree with that source material. She can’t be objective, and therefore, she can’t be faithful to what Narnia is.

How do I know that? Little Women.

I don’t care if you liked the Little Women movie by Greta Gerwig. I don’t care if the acting was “amazing” and I don’t care if Timothee Chalamet and Florence Pugh are great in it. I said exactly what I said. Greta Gerwig made a great movie—but she made a terrible adaptation of Little Women.

It was not Little Women. She made changes to Little Women. What changes, you ask? Changes to the specific pieces of the source material that did not reflect Greta Gerwig’s personal views.

That’s the cardinal sin for directors of adaptive stories or remakes—to make changes to the core themes of a classic tale, because you don’t agree with those core themes. That’s called mutilation, not “updates.”

Here’s how she did it in two major ways in Little Women:

She cut out Jo’s humble response to Friedrich’s gentle rebuke of sensation stories, and replaced it with a feministic self-pitying outburst from Joe and s borderline apathetic, cool piece of feminist advice from Friedrich. That takes all the continuity out of it and warps the characters. That scene is so pivotal in the book. It’s Jo, respecting a man who is much older and excellent in character than any other she’s ever known, and feeling immediately humbled by him calling her out. She’d never have responded that way if Laurie called her out. They would have argued. But this scene was supposed to show what Jo needed from a future romantic partner. She needed someone she respected, someone who could be wise and gentle—two things Laurie is not. She needed someone who would help her take her eyes off of worldly success and herself, and onto eternal benefits to mankind, specifically, the effect her stories might have on children. His gentle, respectful, wise love (and the love of characters like Beth) turns Jo from a self-absorbed writer into a selfless mother, like her own Marmee.

But Greta Gerwig never wanted Jo to be a selfless mother. She wanted, and I quote, “Jo’s love to be her work, and her romance with Friedrich secondary.” You know why?

Because that’s what Greta Gerwig believes in. Greta Gerwig’s life is her work. Watch any of her movies, you’ll see the smudge marks of that wholehearted belief all over them. She can’t even be objective when the whole point of a character is to make work secondary, as was certainly the case with the character of Jo March. No. She has to twist up one of the best American heroines ever into an automaton of herself.

The second way she mutilated source material is with Amy and Laurie. In the books, Amy and Laurie grow to love each other out of the character deficiencies that they make up for in one another. At the start of their courtship, Amy is ambitious and Laurie is lazy. Amy wants to marry for advantage, and Laurie wants to make much of his spurned love for Jo by giving up on life. And that’s it.

It’s Amy who first wakes up to feeling something romantic toward Laurie, not Laurie, and Laurie is not the first to make a move on her. Laurie does not know he is in love with Amy until well after she knows she loves him. Then, he does not make the first outward advance on Amy. They both come to the same conclusion together; when they do, she does not resist. In Greta Gerwig’s version, he’s back to falling in love with a girl who’s resisting, because that’s where Timothee Chalamet’s emotional acting shines or whatever.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that she adds a feminism speech from Amy, as a reason for her resistance, and she subtracts the scene where Laurie actually proposes. The scene where Laurie proposes, in the book, is so beautiful.

The two characters are in love, they know they’re in love, and neither of them is insecure about it. Amy has learned that she needs a life-partner who knows her and will protect her, like her old home-values did, and not some rich aristocrat or prince. Laurie has learned that he needs a life-partner who can stir him toward change, not through big explosive arguments and hope of conquered affection like Jo, but with gentle love and sheer inspiration, found in Amy.

So, in the most beautiful analogy for courtship that ends in marriage ever, he proposes to her while they’re rowing on a lake. She’s sitting next to him in the middle of the boat, she’s got one oar, he’s got the other, and she says, “How well we pull together, don’t we?” And he says, “so well that I wish we might always be in the same boat. Will you, Amy?” And she says “yes.”

That’s it. No argument. No big, passionate, sentimental explosion like he had with Jo. No wrenched and broken heart-strings. He didn’t have to convince her. She didn’t have to resist. Because entirely without force, and entirely without insecurity, they protected each other’s hearts and came to a conclusion that was based on something so much deeper and more eternal than fleeting passion.

Greta Gerwig cut that out and listened to Meryl Streep and put in another stormy lover’s-quarrel speech from Amy about why she couldn’t be with Laurie because she was in Jo’s shadow, and feminism and marrying for advantage, blah blah blah. It’s terrible. It’s mutilation. It ruins everything the original Little Women had.

it doesn’t matter if she got some of the characters right. It doesn’t matter if she got a lot of the quotes right. It doesn’t matter if all of Act 1 of the movie is mostly-book-accurate. If you change load-bearing themes or character motivations, you show that you can’t be objective and faithful to the source material.

It is fine if Greta Gerwig wants to make a movie about a woman who loves her work more than anything else. It is fine if she wants to make a movie about how women are under-appreciated for their minds and souls, and have characters that go on a journey to prove it. But it is not fine to use someone else’s story to say it. Make your own story, Greta Gerwig.

Oh, you already did? See: Lady Bird? See: Frances Ha? Then come up with something new. Don’t shoehorn your same beliefs into every franchise that is offered to you, like vomiting, then eating the vomit and regurgitating it over and over in new colors. Figure out how to tell someone else’s story in a faithful way, objectively, or else keep your stained hands off until you can clean them up. Especially, keep them off Narnia.

Greta Gerwig makes movies for Greta Gerwig, by Greta Gerwig. She can’t be objective, and for that, she can’t do Narnia. She can’t do it justice, she can’t do it faithfully, because she makes movies for herself, by herself.

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jok13-writings · 5 months ago

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Something About Us (Modern AU, Gyuraro x reader)

Read part 2 |. Read full work on AO3 here

Note: Hi everyone, I'm very excited to make my first post in this blog. This is supposed to be the first chapter of a series that I have in mind. Later I will continue posting them in AO3. I am new at writing and English is not my first language, so please be kind! I would like to thank all the writers in this platform, you all have inspired me to try writing myself <3 Thanks for reading and hope you all like it! (I accept any tips and suggestions, I'm still learning!)

It has been a few months since you started your first year at University. This new chapter in your life was exciting, and you managed to get to know a lot of new and different people. With your easy going and friendly personality, you became popular really fast. People adored you, always getting praised by your looks and sweet personality, and you couldn’t help but love the validation. You always made a lot of efforts to be liked by everyone, always thinking that if you treated others with kindness, the same would be returned to you. But there was one particular person that seemed to not like you.

He was always sitting on the back of the class, with a scrutiny gaze and a scowl in his face. Some of his wavy black hair lifted in a half bun, with some locks always covering part of his ink stained face. His clothes always black; ripped pants with silver chains attached, oversized t-shirts, and his signature combat boots. He was a loner, and people tended to avoid him due to his rude and violent reputation. Gyutaro Shabana was intimidating, to say the least.

In fact, he seemed to despise everyone, but you, with your obsession to be liked by everyone, took it as something personal. The first day of class, you tried to introduce yourself to him with your usual friendly demeanor. He looked at you with dose cold icy blue eyes, scoffed and told you to “get lost”. You were shocked by his rudeness, and you could only stare at his back speechless, as he walked away.

Since that day you were determinate to make him like you. In order to gain his favor, you started making small gestures such as lending him your notes, smiling at him when your gazes met or say good morning to him when you saw him in class. In some occasions, you even send him the details and requirements for assignments that had explained in class when he would not show up. Every time you made any of that gestures or tried to approach him, he would immediately shut you down or directly ignore you. It was frustrating for you, but at the same time made you feel more curious towards him.

You started to observe him from the distance, taking note of everything about him. He was always so rude, making inadequate comments about others, and sometimes straight cruel when he got the chance. You kind of disliked him, like everybody else did, or at least that's what you thought. Despite that, you couldn’t help but felt drawn to him.

The more you observed him, the more you noticed some other things about him. He was incredibly smart, everyone thought he had bad grades, but he was actually doing pretty good without almost showing into class, and he even had a scholarship. He was also very good at sports. You found out he was part of the basketball team one day you went to see a match with your friends, and you were really surprised to see how good he was at it. But what made you change drastically your perception of him was seeing how he treated his little sister.

On a Friday afternoon, you were in the mall with your friends, and you happened to see him sitting in an ice cream shop with his little sister. He was caressing her hair fondly while she ate an ice cream. Seeing him in such a way made your chest flutter in a strange way that you did not expect. He looked so caring towards her, and it seemed like he even went all his way out to buy her a lot of clothes, considering all the shopping bags around them. You never have seen him before in such a way, and this more tender side of him intrigued you.

As you looked at them, you couldn’t help but wonder how would it feel to be gazed so fondly by him, as if you were something he cherished. You could feel such as a confusing feeling, close to longing, build in your chest. As you watched the scene unfold in front of you, you suddenly snapped out of it, mentally slapping yourself for having such confusing thoughts about him.

Since then, you had found yourself thinking more about him in different ways, in ways that you never thought you would. You tried to deny those new-found feelings, and never talked about them with any of your friends. After all, what would they think if you told them that you were crushing into the obnoxious loner of the campus? And more over, how would your reputation be affected by getting involved with him?

You kept doing those small gestures for him, but now with a different purpose. Yes, you still wanted him to like you, but now it was in a deeper level. One day, in the math class that was required to be taken by most of the majors, the teacher announced an upcoming project that had to be done in pairs. As people started to pair up, you looked over at Gyutaro and noticed that, as usual, no one seemed to want to pair up with him. Gaining all the courage you could have, you decided to approach him and ask him to be your partner.

He was sitting in his usual spot, with a bored expression and looking through the window. You stopped in front of his desk and as he noticed your presence, he turned and just stared at you with his signature cold gaze. You gave him a soft smile as your gazes locked and started to speak. “Hey Gyutaro, sorry to bother you, but do you have a partner for the upcoming project?”

He looked at you skeptically and grunted. “No. And why do you care?” He said with a hint of defensiveness. You stiffed a little as he said that, not used to be spoken to in such a tone. Even thought that, you keep your smile, trying to look impassive to his rudeness. “I don’t have a partner either, would you like to team up with me?” you said sweetly.

Gyutaro, for a split of a second, seemed to look surprised, but then the hardness in his expression returned. He did not say anything for a while and crossed his arms over his chest. He seemed to be pondering your proposition. Meanwhile, on the inside you were a nervous wreck, and you could feel your heart hammering into your chest from the tension.

“Why? Don’t you have friends or something?” He said bluntly, taking you totally off guard. You shifted on your weight, feeling a little on the spot, and tucked some strands of your hair behind your ear from the nervousness. “Yeah… but they are all already paired up, and I thought we could make a good team… you seem good at math…” You trailed off, not knowing what exactly to say to convince him.

He stared at you for a while until he shrugged and replied with a flat tone, “Eh, I guess I'm decent at it...” as he leaned on his chair. “Fine, we can do the damn project together but don’t expect me to carry it” he concluded and shifted his attention again to the window.

As he said that, you let go a soft breath of air that you did not know that you were holding, feeling relieved. “Good, I’ll send you the details latter, and we can see when we meet up to get started with it”. You said and walked back to your seat with your friends.

Seated back in your seat, you can’t help but feel really excited about spending time with him. You think this is your best opportunity to get to know him better and maybe to get him to like you a little. Your friends look at you puzzled and ask you why did you decide to team up with him, of all people. You just responded that you felt bad for him since he did not have a partner for the project, masking your real purposes. As usual, they praised you for being such a good person and told you to be careful around him.

Meanwhile, Gyutaro was watching you from the back of the class, seeming curious about you and the interaction you two just had. Maybe this would be the beginning of something between you two.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #modern au #kny x reader #gyutaro x you #demon slayer x reader

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daenysx · 7 months ago

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hi! i’m pretty new to your blog but i��m really loving your content! you’re a fantastic writer. if it’s okay i’d like to request something for james x reader, where r is going through a friendship breakup and james is comforting her? i completely understand if you don’t want to write this, regardless i’ll continue to enjoy your content! have a great day/night 💗

hi, angel, thank you so much for being so kind! i hope you enjoy ♡ requests are open

james potter x fem!reader, modern au

"come on." you scoff, looking at your phone and feeling sick to your stomach. james lifts his head from his laptop to see what you're doing. you put the phone on couch a bit harshly, crossing your arms defensively.

"angel?" he asks.

"yeah, jamie?"

"everything alright?" he puts his laptop on the coffee table to go by your side. you turn your head, feeling a hot teardrop roll on your cheek.

"she doesn't even care about what i say." you start. james knows exactly who you're talking about. "i'm trying to talk about how i feel and she- it's nothing to her, apparently."

"what did she say?" james asks, he rubs a generous hand on your arm.

"she just- she says she's sorry and she'll fix it, but she said all those things 2 months ago! just- you need to do something for someone if you promise them but she keeps forgetting and she never explains anything."

you're getting more upset each second. this is a person who you spent your days with before, someone close enough to share secrets. something happened two months ago, something you can't even properly remember now, and she hurt you. she never realized how distanced you've been and when you told her, she promised she'll fix it. two fucking months ago. she did nothing.

"am i doing wrong?" you ask james. "is it wrong to be angry?"

"no." he says. "it's not wrong if you feel like it. you don't wanna let go of her so easy but- i guess she doesn't try like you do."

the truth hurts so badly. you hate losing friendships, strangers turning into loved ones, losing them makes you feel like losing a part of your memories. what can you do? you're feeling too proud, too unforgiving. you don't want to be a bad person.

"i just don't know why she keeps giving up on me." you say, quietly. tears turn into hushed breaths. "am i so easily forgettable?"

"no." james takes you in his arms. "baby, of course not. it's not your fault if you believe you try hard enough to save your friendship. maybe it's not anyone's fault. sometimes things don't work out."

you put your head on james's shoulder. "i thought we were closer than this." you say, sadly. "maybe i was wrong."

james rubs your back until you relax on him. your phone is forgotten, you won't send any more texts tonight. it already hurts enough, but you gotta get through it.

"i'm sorry." he says, a quiet sound comes out of his lips as he kisses your head. "i'm sorry it's hurting, baby. you'll be okay."

maybe you should just leave this as a good relationship that is over now. there's no need to try to save something if it's already lost. you've gone through this before, you can do it again. you think your anger for the situation will make you forget about things quicker. you won't hold any grudges.

"i don't wanna be friends with someone who treats me like this." you say, sharply. "i didn't do anything to deserve it."

james kisses your hair again. "i'm not blaming her." you say, after a second. "it's not anyone's fault at this point but- i won't try anymore. she can do anything she wants, i guess."

not getting a closure hurts a bit, but you'll survive. james likes how you perceive the situation from both sides, you don't see yourself as the only person who's right, you still have respect and love for your old friend. your head stays tucked on his neck nicely, he rubs your now dried cheeks with cool fingers.

when you look at james with expectant eyes, he nods. it's good to see him agreeing with you, you know he'd tell you if you were making an irrational decision out of anger. you kiss his cheek and he carries you to his side of the couch.

you don't look at your phone again that night. james figures out you like watching sitcoms when you're upset. you fall asleep to the background sound of the office, your head on james's chest and his hand on your lower back.

#james potter #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james x you #james x reader #james x fem!reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine

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northwest-cryptid · 10 months ago

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This may only be my opinion on the matter, and I know a few Natives myself who all have their own ideas about this. However; to me if you want to make a Native character, be they for a game, as an OC; whatever doesn't matter. All you need to do in order to make sure you're not being offensive? Just do like, the bare minimum research.

Step 1. Pick a location for your character.

If your character exists within some fantasy world or whatever then it can be a bit harder to pinpoint something like this. At this point skip to step 2.

If your character is of Earth, or is of our known universe (yes this includes sci fi settings), then trace their bloodline back to where they originally are from.

I say this because it will help you with step 2.

You need to know where, or at least roughly where your character is from.

Step 2. Pick a tribe from that location that makes sense for the character.

Again, even a basic level of research goes a long ways here, I know fanfic writers who would get put on a list looking up the ins and outs of some criminal shit just to accurately write a character, I know you have the ability to research shit so I trust you can do this here.

Figure out based on the location you picked for your character, what tribe they would reasonably be a part of. If you find that you'd rather have them in a specific tribe; perhaps one that's important to you or something; you can do Step 1 and Step 2 in reverse order.

The important thing here is that: If you have to make up a tribe, I'm going to understand you don't actually care about them being Native. If you have to give them a specific tribe but you don't bother to give that tribe the basic respect of knowing where they're from I am once again going to understand you just don't actually give two shits about Natives.

Okay so now that we have an understanding of what tribe our character is from, we can begin looking into that tribe's culture. This may be a bit difficult in some cases since not everything is going to just be out there on the internet, and you may also not have a fundamental understanding of the culture and how it's changed over the years. Guess what, that's fine! I'd rather see a character who's specifically said to be Lakota, and who knows about our deities and teachings even if they're the sort of thing most modern Natives don't believe in or care about. Accurate depiction of culture is not a stereotype!

Once we know what sort of things might be important to this character culturally, we can begin to weave small noticeable traits into them, or you can even make those traits a much larger part of the character. As a quick example, for my Vtuber's design I included not only the colors of the Four Directions but often depict them with a braid and use owl feathers as a sort of symbol of them. This all comes directly from the fact my Life Shield uses owl feathers to represent my family, includes the Four Directions, and I literally grew up with a braid and continue to grow out my hair as to have another; it's all part of the culture I was raised in, even if I amplified the importance of some aspects to sort of make them a trait for a character. Again, accuracy isn't a stereotype.

I also want to briefly mention that when you're naming your character I urge you to look up how people in the tribe are actually named, please don't just do the old "color + animal" thing or whatever and think it's fine. Just again, do the bare minimum research to figure out how people in that tribe are named and go from there. I once joked with my partner that "the only thing about the Natives in Twilight that's remotely accurate is that they have the most generic white American names"

If you want an actually pretty good example of what I'm talking about, look no further than Prey. No not the movie, no not the modern remake; but the game from like 2006.

Our main character here is a Native man named Tommy, or rather Domasi "Tommy" Tawodi and he's actually said to be Cherokee. Now you can say what you will about his spirit powers and such, I get it.

But from a sheer design perspective?

Yea that's not bad at all! Everything from the facial features to his name to his general aesthetic is spot on for the Cherokee I've met out at the reservation. This is what I mean when I say accurate depiction of a culture isn't some harmful stereotype.

I'd love to see more Natives in things, I'd love to see Native OCs; but I feel like people are so scared to make Natives a thing because doing so could be racist if you misrepresent us or something. Like okay let me tell you right now you're not gonna do it worse than people who have made millions off selling books and movies whether it's westerns that depict us all as uncivilized killers or whatever the hell was going on in twilight; you're gonna be fine so long as you TRY.

And yes it's actually as easy as a 3 step process, the same sort of thing you'd do for any character really.

I mean think about it, let's say I was some weeb who really wanted to make a Japanese character but I didn't want to do any research. I could make the mistake of putting them in these overly traditional outfits and settings and maybe at least some of the details would be accurate but overall it'd be pretty bad rep, or I could go the polar opposite direction and just make them look like they're some British street punk with their whole aesthetic being way off from the sort of actual street fashion of places like Tokyo; again misrepresenting a whole subculture there. Or maybe I could do what everyone does to Natives and deem them to be some fantasy race who must have super powers and make them into essentially just an anime character; obviously that would be some severely bad rep. All of which could be fixed if I just bothered to go "okay where do I want this person to be from? What sort of culture do people from there abide by in their day to day life? How could I reflect that in a character?"

Honestly that's just good practice for making any sort of character based on a real world group.

And going back to a point I stated in Step 1. If you want to include a Native character in a fantasy world where ya know, America doesn't exist and therefore we couldn't logically have Native Americans; pick a tribe and go off that. As long as it's accurate I don't believe it would be seen as disrespectful.

At the end of the day there will always be people who get up in arms about anything; like it's their job to twist anything into being racist. You will never make those people happy, don't bother trying.

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carnal-lnstinct · 10 months ago

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I have a request!!! This is a story i will write someday, but I trust an amazing writer like yourself for this! Vegeta is in situationship with the reader, and realizes one day that he actually cares about her and loves her. In my head, this is an no powers au, and the reader is younger than him and she already is in love with him. I know this is not very specific 😅 but you can work around it however you want and you can ignore the details i gave if they bother you as well! But thank you so much for reading all my vague idea 💗

Pairing: Vegeta x Reader ( implied afab ) Content: M/18. MINORS DNI. au: modern au / no powers. wealthy!Vegeta. age difference; (40-45!Vegeta x 24-30!Reader). established fuck buddies. pining. A/N: A perfect concept! ♥ This one was a challenge only because I am never good at modernizing Vegeta or focusing on age difference, but I enjoyed this a lot! I’d love to take a crack at this concept again in the future with a better grasp of it.

Too open…Too small…Too thin…A cropped jacket? Really? He seemed to have a look of disgust at them all, impatiently watching your hand ghost over the wares on the wall and immediately feeling his jaw clench from each inappropriate one you dared to show a little interest in. Your smaller hand kept getting swallowed up in his coat sleeves as you moved down the aisle, it was starting to bother him to watch you fidget and constantly adjust in it. He can’t help but notice how you did your best to hold it over your frame while browsing and making this longer than it should have been.

You turn to him when another catches your eye in your favorite color, gauging his favor at the choice, and then moving on to the next when the squint in his eyes says “no”.

His gaze skims a little further ahead of you as if to speed up this process by handling it himself. One of these coats had to be suitable for you, one that sits well on your shoulders, and the zipper won't bulge or fight to get over your chest. But your neck should still peek, he muses, and be able to breathe without a restricting collar. Your curves shouldn't be hidden under the material…Maybe a scarf to go with-

“—What the hell am I even doing here? You don't need me to buy a simple coat.” Vegeta caught himself and finally spoke up. He turned his nose up at this scenario, a hint of a growl in his tone. “I told you a long time ago to get a better one.”

He couldn’t wait to throw that in your face. You’re actually impressed he held his tongue for so long and you give him an innocent shrug in response. It was beginning to get hard to read his outburst as anything more than his bark now as he donned that predictable scowl you loved so much. “Sorry. If you want your coat back you can take it now.” The large sleeves easily slide down your smaller arms.

“Just hurry this up already. It's getting late.” He grimaced, speaking up quickly and stopping you from taking it off so soon. He's annoyed, even though it was his idea to bring you here for a better coat. You figured he was more annoyed with beating the idea in your ear almost every time you met and you continued to show up in your favorite old jacket regardless. You'd argue your old coat was handy! It did keep you warm getting from your front door to your car and vice versa. But then you were reckless and came to his front door without even that, the trek back to your car to get it feeling pointless when you were about to go inside anyway. Vegeta didn’t even say anything to you when the door opened, he just felt the rush of cold air pass the threshold before you and leered at you.

Then his thicker, slightly heavier coat hit your back and shoulders after he left you in the doorway and you understood that you had been lying to yourself for too long. The material was too cozy to not immediately get taken into its soothing warmth, snuggling it and shoving your hands into the deep pockets. Having only a moment to soak it all in, you were then promptly dragged away by the fuming man as he led you to his car. And now you’re here, scanning the coat section of a store you’d never think to set foot in. Still, you’re excited to be here.

Out in public with him, wearing something that belongs to him, needlessly—in your opinion—shopping for a replacement coat with him. You felt deeply acknowledged. Accepted. Your heart is restless in your chest while you try to contain yourself moving up and down the coat aisle. It's not like you had much in common outside of your attraction, so to share more than a few hours sweaty and naked with him was a nice change of pace. It left you wondering if he finally started to see the extent of your feelings for him or if you were just embellishing his generosity to be something more meaningful. He certainly doesn't seem to treat you differently than others aside from what you give each other in private, but there are instances like this that make you feel cared for like no other.

That same scowl watched over you now as you continued to gloss over the selection of coats and took note of the way you shifted your search from fashionable to functional by how you carefully looked over the price tags. Once you’re sure you’ve settled on one after a few meticulous moments, you turn back to him only to see he has moved from where he planted his feet to observe you. You let go of the hanger and move out of the aisle looking around and still fixing his jacket on you. That’s when you found his familiar silhouette at the register already, stuffing something in his pocket. His hand raises to the sales rep stopping them from bagging up the item on the counter and takes it in his hands. He sees you coming out of the aisle and walks up to you.

“Let’s go, we’re done here.”

“But I didn’t find-” Your favorite color fills your sights as he places a coat in your hand. A shade and taper at the waist that blends in with your wardrobe, and material that matched the heavy jacket hanging on your shoulders.

“Put it on.” It sounded like an order, but it’s just his impatience rearing itself again. Regardless, you don’t hesitate to switch the coats.

The smell, the texture, and a fit that doesn’t bind your shoulders and arms. You rush to a mirror to see it on yourself and gush at your reflection. He found this for you. He bought it for you and was sure to remove the price tag so you wouldn’t gawk at it. There was an emotional twinkle in your eyes when you turned back to him. Of all the things you wanted to say, all rushing to your tongue, “Thank you, Vegeta” is all you were able to get out and clutched the cozy new fabric to yourself. Your heart was pounding and his scowl softened.

Without a word, he gestures his head toward the door with his returned coat under his arm began to head for the exit. You rushed to his side, clinging to his other arm with your face on his shoulder and the biggest smile on your face. Vegeta stiffened at your firm grip but didn’t flinch away, holding the door open for you to exit first, your smaller hands shifting to hold his as he tailed you out the door.

Once you were back in the car and on the way back to his home, all the words you sat with piled up on the tip of your tongue again and caused you to fidget with his coat in your lap. You tried to distract yourself by scrolling through your phone and giving your feelings a chance to settle, but you couldn’t help stopping to admire the fabric of your new coat and the adorable opalescent fastens at your wrist keeping the sleeves from sliding up and down your arm. It’s too fancy for words. Suddenly inspired, you lift your phone and angle it up at yourself for a selfie in it. A thought crossed your mind, and you leaned over toward the driver’s side intending to capture both of you. You see his eyes flick from the road for a moment and his resting glare becomes more prominent.

“Who is that for?” He asked with his usual condescending tone.

“Me. You don’t mind?” He shrugs in response, uncaring on the matter by your answer and your eyes light up. “Really? You’re okay taking pictures with me?”

“...Do I need to make a face or something?”

You giggle, “No. Just smile with me.” That seemed to be the grueling part by the way his frown stretched skeptically. But he rolled his eyes and complied with a half-hearted smirk for your picture.

You have teased that his scowl makes him look older, but no one would know by simply looking at him that there is an evident gap between your generations. A man like him had no business giving you the attention he did and that’s probably why the approach to your relationship is so ambiguous. Moreover, unlike you, he comes from old money and most likely has “old money expectations”. There is a sense of entitlement to what he has and what he wants that proves that prestigious background. You could consider yourself as recreational to him as a round of golf or sipping cocktails in an infinity pool but you would just hurt your own feelings thinking like that.

A girl like you had to just be for a bit of fun for him though, right? Young and naive and swearing your independence is solid. But your feelings for him are real. It is his reliable presence and fantastic cock that keep you in contact with him, but also his mysterious allure. You wish you could figure out where you stood between what he has or wants, or if you truly are just a dalliance. Sometimes he treats you like he already has you and expects certain things about you that show his adoration beyond your body, but he's never directly said he wanted you for more than company for a night or two. To buy you something as permanent as a coat felt like a claim over you. He wants you comfortable against the cold even when he’s not around, and he doesn’t hesitate to fix that when you keep putting it off. But the fact of the matter is you’re just going back to his house so you could fuck.

“...Do I-...” Your tone broke and you cleared your throat, hesitating again. You don’t want to ambush him over the matter but you really want to get this off your chest. You glance up from your phone and his head is tilted towards you with his eyes still on the road.

“Speak up.”

“I-It’s nothing.” You quickly answer, shrug, and sit quietly for an endless minute. Then, you swallow your nerves. “...I just didn’t think I meant that much to you to do this.” Your hands slide down the collar of your cozy coat as you grip it and keep your eyes in your lap.

“Tch, It’s just a coat.” Vegeta brushed off the gesture.

“An expensive coat…” You corrected. “You picked this out and made them remove the tag so I can’t see how much to pay you back for it. So… unless I’m just… like your little baby doll now-”

“It’s a coat.” He firmly insisted, then scoffs. “You know how annoying it is to tell you to do something and you don’t do it? You freeze your ass off every time you show up on the entrance camera. What if I was on the other side of the house when you showed up?”

Waiting in the cold would feel like an eternity, you admitted to yourself. His house isn’t small, further proof of his prestige. “But I know you’re gonna let me in and warm me up. You don’t have to buy me a new coat.”

“And then you’re back out in the cold..” He huffs out a laugh as he shakes his head. “...Freezing in your car waiting for it to warm up again with that thin thing you call a jacket. No.” His driving posture relaxes, the older man's head and spine sinking back against his seat. “...I wanted to. Okay?”

“...Okay.” Your prepared rebuttal of your self-sufficiency falters in response to his suddenly softer tone. The dull pink in your cheeks and the rise of butterflies in response gave him your submission. You stare at him quietly for a moment watching the way his eyes flicked in thought and he finally sighed.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with you anymore…” Vegeta concedes and he freed a hand from the wheel to rub his forehead. There's an instance where his expression relaxes into one you've never seen, but as he begins to air his grievances his brows furrowed in their familiar way. “I don’t know what you want, you don’t ask me for anything. You only show up when I call, and gone before the sun is up. Is it the house? Do I scare you when we’re not just getting off?”

“No. No. I just thought…” Your breath trembles as you inhale and then you can't stop the words falling out once you let it go. “I don’t know, I just don’t wanna bother you or get in the way of your lifestyle. That’s why we just meet and fuck, right?”

“I want you in the way, damn it! I’m not just tolerating you for an easy fuck.” He suddenly bursts out and speaks in an accusatory tone. “You just don't act like you want more than that.”

It wasn’t as affectionate or romantic as you let your imagination curate it, but without a doubt that was the validation your lovesick heart sought. That's when the car stopped. You were back at his house. Something about his eyes fully on you now makes your thoughts spill like a broken pipe.

“I couldn't tell if you wanted more than that. We’ve only been doing it since we met. I thought It was much too soon to…fall for you like this..” You confessed, the uncertainty no longer in your voice.

“Believe it or not, it is more than your body that interests me. If you want to take things slower..”

The corners of your mouth twitch as you try to contain your smile, tightening your lips shut. You suddenly feel shy with this man who makes your eyes well up with tears trying to hold his entire cock in your mouth. Taking it slower means more time out together and you can’t help thinking about the dates you could go on that aren’t just a wine and dine for foreplay. Though you love that.

You lift your eyes to him and let your smile spread. “It doesn’t have to start tonight…” You suggest, your eyes reflecting the deep attraction you had for him right now. You get a smile in return, not that prideful or crooked smirk but a genuine smile and it makes you bite your lip enticingly. He did buy you a beautiful and comfy coat, after all. You should show your gratitude as you unbuckle your seatbelt and climb over your seat into his waiting arms.

#vegeta x reader #vegeta imagine #dbz fics #dbz imagine #My writing #♚ ;; [ requests ]

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