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emjayewrites · 22 days ago

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fouled by fate • aurelien tchouameni (8/10)

SYNOPSIS: Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of football’s rising stars, is used to navigating the pressures of the pitch—but nothing could prepare him for an arranged marriage. With his family’s legacy and cultural traditions at stake, Aurélien reluctantly agrees to marry a woman he barely knows. But as they’re thrust into the public eye, sparks fly in unexpected ways. The two must navigate the complexities of love, duty, and fame, all while figuring out if they’re playing on the same team—or if their hearts are destined for different paths.

PAIRINGS: Aurélien Tchouaméni x Zuri Awanto Nchang (faceclaim Samira Ahmed @/iamsamiira)

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., dry humor/wit, slight arguing, friends to lovers, instant attraction, angst, eventual smut (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @essaysbyciara @saturnville @trentswrld @planetmimi @muglermami @shepgurl @sucredreamer @julescpu @tchouathon @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @bbgkoo @lottins-only @pepfectionary

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be removed from the tag list Thank you again for your love and appreciation!

Aurélien sat in his living room in Madrid, the familiar hum of clippers buzzing as his barber worked carefully on his taper fade. The sharp scent of aftershave filled the air, and he leaned back, trying to ease the tension that had been building since his father’s call. His foot, still recovering from the sprain, rested on an ottoman. It was healing, but the slow process frustrated him.

Zuri’s dad, meanwhile, still hadn’t returned her calls. Days had passed, and Aurélien could see the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Her father had always been tough, but this silence? It felt like a new low.

His barber finished up, brushing off the stray hairs before stepping back to admire his work. "Looking fresh, my guy," he said with a grin, handing Aurélien a mirror.

Aurélien checked out the cut, nodding his approval. "Appreciate it, bro. Always on point."

As the barber packed up his tools, the smell of Zuri’s cooking started wafting through the house, drawing him toward the kitchen. He limped over, leaning against the counter to watch her work. She moved with a natural rhythm, dicing vegetables with ease. The scent of fried plantains and chicken filled the space, reminding him of the comforting meals his mother often cooked.

"What’s on the menu today, chef?" Aurélien asked, half-teasing, though genuinely curious.

Zuri glanced over her shoulder, smiling softly. "Poulet DG. One of my mom's quick meals—chicken, veggies, and fried plantains. Easy and satisfying."

Aurélien chuckled. "You know how much I love plantains.”

"You better behave, or I’ll eat it all myself," Zuri joked, stirring the pot.

He watched her for a moment, then stepped closer, his voice soft. “How you holding up? Your dad still hasn’t called back.”

Zuri sighed, her hand pausing on the spoon. “Yeah. It’s exhausting, waiting for him to get over himself.”

Aurélien wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Zuri leaned into him briefly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. “I know. Thanks, Aurél.”

"Need any help in here?" he asked, though they both knew he was a disaster in the kitchen.

Zuri laughed softly, shaking her head. “You can help by staying right where you are and letting me work.”

Aurélien raised his hands in surrender, stepping back to lean against the counter again, content to watch her. “Fine. But if I burn anything next time, it’s on you for not teaching me.”

Zuri snorted. “Trust me, I’m doing us both a favor by keeping you away from the stove.”

As the smell of the food intensified, Aurélien couldn't help but appreciate the moment—the calm before any potential storms. Zuri was here, cooking in their space, and despite everything with her dad, they had this. And that was something worth savoring.

"So, what do you think?" Zuri asked, glancing over at him. "Think your mom would approve of my cooking?"

Aurélien grinned, shaking his head. "Oh, she’s gonna love you even more. Especially with this dish." He paused for a beat, then added, "Speaking of which, she called earlier. Said she and Dad want to have dinner with us soon."

Zuri raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "That sounds serious."

"Nothing we can’t handle," he said, his voice low and confident. "But maybe don’t tell them I almost set the kitchen on fire last time I helped you cook.”

Zuri laughed, the sound light and easy, setting the finished plate down in front of him. "Don’t worry, that’s our little secret."

He reached out to pull her closer by the waist, his eyes warm as he looked up at her. "It better be."

Zuri leaned in, brushing a kiss to his lips. "You’re a mess."

"Your mess, bébé," Aurélien murmured against her lips, his hand resting at the small of her back. He savored the moment before pulling back, eyes glancing down at the plate she’d set in front of him. “Now, let me taste this masterpiece.”

Zuri laughed, handing him a fork. “Masterpiece might be a stretch. But I’m proud of it.”

Aurélien dug in, taking a bite of the sautéed chicken and plantains. His eyes widened, and he nodded in appreciation. “Damn, Zuri. This is really good.”

“Better than your UberEats orders?” she teased, leaning against the counter as she watched him eat.

Aurélien’s grin turned mischievous as he finished chewing, his gaze flicking up to meet Zuri’s. “Way better. You’re gonna spoil me at this rate," he said, then added in a low voice, "But don’t worry, I’ll find ways to return the favor. Just like I did in Paris.”

Zuri raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smirk as she leaned against the counter. “Oh, is that so? You mean how you couldn’t keep your hands off me all weekend?”

“Exactly.” Aurélien’s eyes darkened with desire as he set down his fork, leaning back in his chair. “You know you started something, right? Ever since that weekend, I’ve been counting the days until I could have you like that again. Paris changed everything.”

Zuri’s breath caught as she remembered that weekend—how they’d explored the city by day, but as soon as the sun set, the rest of the world faded away. The way Aurélien had looked at her like he couldn’t get enough, like each touch only made him crave her more.

“Changed everything?” she asked, her voice softening, though her heartbeat quickened as his words settled in.

He stood up slowly, his foot still tender but his hunger for her more apparent than ever as he walked toward her. “Yeah. Now I can’t stop thinking about how good you feel, how perfect you are.” His hands found her waist, pulling her gently against him as he murmured into her ear, “Every time I look at you, all I want to do is have you, Zuri. Like in Paris, like every damn night since.”

Zuri’s pulse raced, and she bit her lip, trying to keep her cool, but the heat in his gaze was undeniable. “Is that right?” she asked, her tone teasing but her body already responding to the closeness between them. “You can’t get enough of me, huh?”

Aurélien’s hands slid down her sides, squeezing her hips as he leaned in, his lips grazing her neck. “Not even close. Paris was just the beginning.”

The weekend had started with stolen glances and innocent touches, but by the end, it was clear—they’d crossed a line neither of them wanted to go back from. Late nights in their hotel room, tangled in sheets, every moment only intensifying the connection between them.

Zuri laughed softly, her hands running up his chest. “You’ve been insatiable ever since,” she teased, but her voice was breathy, her body remembering how he had taken his time with her, learning every inch of her.

He kissed the side of her neck, his voice low and husky. “You bring it out of me. I’m not gonna apologize for that.”

Zuri shivered, her fingers curling into his shirt. "Good, because I don’t want you to.”

Aurélien’s hands roamed down her back, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shorts. His touch was warm, deliberate, and full of promise. Zuri’s breath hitched when his hands found her ass, squeezing firmly as he pulled her closer to him. "Maybe I should get a little taste of dessert," he murmured against her ear, his lips barely brushing her skin.

Zuri’s heart raced at his words, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Greedy,” she shot back, her voice breathy as his hands slid further down.

His chuckle was low, vibrating against her neck as his fingertips teased the waistband of her shorts. “Can you blame me?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “Especially when you walk around like this, knowing what it does to me.”

Before she could respond, Aurélien lifted her effortlessly, setting her down on the kitchen counter. The cool marble beneath her thighs made her shiver, contrasting sharply with the heat between them. He spread her legs with ease, positioning himself between them as his hands gripped her hips.

“You know I can’t resist you in these tiny shorts,” he murmured, his eyes dark as he slowly peeled them down, revealing the edge of her lace underwear.

Zuri felt the tension rise between them as Aurélien’s gaze raked over her body. “You wear this just to torture me,” he continued, his voice playful, but there was an edge to it—something darker, more primal.

“Maybe I did,” she whispered, her breath catching when his fingers traced the edge of her panties.

Aurélien smirked, his fingers now gliding over the fabric, brushing her inner thighs. “Is that so?” His voice was low, rough, as he leaned forward, kissing her slowly, teasingly. But he didn’t linger long on her lips. Instead, he pulled back, his hands slipping under her shirt, fingertips grazing her skin.

He lifted her shirt just enough to reveal her bra, his eyes flicking up to meet hers as he pushed the fabric aside, exposing her pierced nipples. His gaze darkened, a low groan escaping his throat as his thumb brushed over the cool metal. “These piercings… they drive me crazy,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “You know that, right?”

Zuri bit her lip, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. “You’ve mentioned it a few times,” she teased, her voice wavering as his thumb circled one of her nipples, the combination of his touch and the piercing sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through her body.

“Can’t get enough of them,” he murmured, dipping his head down, his mouth closing over her nipple, tugging lightly on the barbell with his teeth. The sensation was electric, and Zuri arched her back, her hands tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on her sensitive skin.

His other hand slid beneath her panties, fingers slipping between her folds, finding her already wet and ready for him. Aurélien groaned against her breast, his fingers moving slowly, teasingly, as his thumb pressed against her clit in slow circles. "You’re soaked for me, ma belle," he whispered against her skin, his voice hoarse.

Zuri moaned softly, her hips bucking toward his hand, but Aurélien kept his movements slow, torturous. "Patience, ZuZu."

His mouth traveled from one pierced nipple to the other, his tongue flicking over the metal and sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. At the same time, his fingers moved deeper inside her, curling in just the right spot that made her toes curl.

Zuri’s breath was coming in short, ragged gasps as her body responded to his every touch. "Aurélien," she gasped, her hands gripping the counter behind her for support. "I need you…"

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his fingers still working their magic between her legs. “Tell me what you need,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “I want to hear you say it.”

Her head fell back as pleasure coiled tightly in her core, her body teetering on the edge. “I need you… faster,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with desperation.

Aurélien’s eyes lit up with satisfaction, a wicked smile tugging at his lips. “That’s all you had to say.” His fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing harder against her clit as he kissed her again, this time deeper, more urgent.

Zuri’s body trembled, her orgasm building as Aurélien’s fingers pushed her closer to the edge. His mouth returned to her nipples, sucking and teasing, and it was too much—her body tensed, and with one final stroke of his fingers, she came hard, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Aurélien didn’t stop, his fingers still moving, drawing out her release as she trembled beneath him. When she finally came down from her high, he kissed her softly, his hands gently stroking her thighs as she caught her breath.

“How’s that for a little taste of dessert?” he teased, his lips brushing hers in a soft, lingering kiss.

Zuri laughed breathlessly, still tingling from his touch. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, his eyes full of mischief. “And you love it.”

There was a sudden, sharp knock on the front door. Zuri and Aurélien froze for a moment, both of them still caught in the haze of their recent passion. A second knock came, louder this time, followed by a heavy banging that rattled the frame.

"What the…?" Zuri muttered, straightening herself on the counter. Aurélien raised an eyebrow, his hands still resting on her thighs as he glanced toward the door.

"Probably one of the guys," Aurélien shrugged casually, though his brow furrowed slightly at the intensity of the banging. "They've been wanting to check in, see how things are going since we got back from Paris."

Zuri nodded, quickly pulling her shorts back on and adjusting her shirt. She made sure her nipple piercings were covered, still feeling the warmth from Aurélien's mouth lingering on her skin. "I'll go fix myself up a bit," she said, smoothing her hair before she turned to head down the hallway.

"Yeah, better look somewhat decent if it's them," Aurélien smirked, giving her a quick wink as he stepped over to the sink to wash his hands, the water running as he scrubbed away the remnants of their intimate moment.

He limped slightly as he walked toward the door, his body still relaxed from what they'd just shared. His fingers tightened around the doorknob, twisting it open with a slight wince. He expected to see Hugo or Manuel on the other side, maybe even Julio, with some lighthearted banter.

But instead, standing there was Zuri's father, Ernest Awanto Nchang.

Aurélien blinked, his hand still gripping the doorknob, his expression quickly shifting from casual to guarded. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he instinctively straightened up, despite the slight limp in his leg.

"Monsieur Awanto Nchang?" Aurélien asked, bewildered. "Que faites-vous ici?" ("What are you doing here?")

Ernest's face was unreadable, but there was a coldness in his eyes that made Aurélien's stomach knot up. He had always felt tension with Zuri's father, but this… this was different.

"Je suis ici pour emmener Zuri," Ernest said bluntly, his voice hard as steel. ("I'm here to take Zuri.")

Aurélien's confusion deepened, his eyes narrowing as he tried to understand what was going on. "L'emmener? Que voulez-vous dire?" ("Take her? What do you mean?") His hand tightened slightly on the door, instinctively protective.

Before Ernest could respond, Zuri appeared at the end of the hallway, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of her father standing in the doorway.

"Papa?" she said, her voice filled with surprise and concern. She quickly walked over, glancing between Aurélien and Ernest. "What's going on?"

Ernest's gaze shifted from Aurélien to Zuri, his expression softening just a bit as he looked at his daughter, but the tension remained. "It's time to come home, Zuri. Enough of this arrangement." His words were clipped, authoritative, as if he had already made the decision for her.

Zuri's face fell, confusion and frustration warring in her expression. She hadn't expected this.

Aurélien, still standing in the doorway, felt his pulse quicken. His protective instincts kicked in, and his hand gently reached out to rest on the small of Zuri's back, offering silent support. "Mr. Awanto Nchang, with all due respect, Zuri's staying here."

Ernest's eyes flickered toward Aurélien's hand, and then back to his face, his expression darkening. "This isn't about you, Aurélien. This is about what's best for my daughter."

Aurélien's jaw clenched, his frustration mounting. "Monsieur, notre fiançailles est finale," he said, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. "Elle a été bénie par les anciens et nos familles." ("Sir, our engagement is final. It has been blessed by the elders and our families.")

Ernest's eyes flashed dangerously. "Jusqu'à ce que Zuri soit mariée avec toi, j'ai le droit de rompre cet arrangement. Ce que je fais maintenant." ("Until Zuri is married to you, I have the right to break this arrangement. Which I am doing now.")

Zuri, who had been following the exchange with growing alarm, suddenly burst out, "Are you fucking kidding me? Papa, are you really doing all this crazy shit?"

Ernest's face contorted with rage. He raised his hand, moving it towards Zuri's face in a threatening gesture. "How dare you speak to me like that—"

In an instant, Aurélien stepped between them, his body a solid wall protecting Zuri. His eyes blazed with fury as he stared down Ernest. "Don't you dare touch her," he growled, his accent thickening with emotion. "Step away now, or I'll call the police. You're on my property, uninvited and unwelcome."

Ernest's nostrils flared, his hand still raised. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Just then, the sound of car doors slamming broke through the standoff. Aurélien's friends - Hugo, Manuel, and Julio - were approaching, their expressions shifting from casual to concerned as they took in the scene before them.

Seeing he was now outnumbered, Ernest lowered his hand slowly, his eyes never leaving Aurélien's face. "This isn't over," he spat. "I'll be back for Zuri. You can't keep her from her family."

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed away, brushing past the bewildered group of friends.

Aurélien's body remained tense, his arm still protectively around Zuri as they watched Ernest drive away. He turned to her, his eyes softening with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.

Zuri nodded, her body trembling slightly as the adrenaline began to ebb. "I can't believe he… I never thought he'd…"

"Shh," Aurélien soothed, pulling her close. "It's okay."

As Hugo, Manuel, and Julio approached, their faces etched with worry and confusion, Aurélien knew that this was far from over. But as he held Zuri in his arms, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, he made a silent vow. No matter what came next, he would protect her. Their love, their engagement, their future - he would fight for it all.

Zuri found herself perched on the edge of her bed, the muffled sounds of male laughter and the soft clack of pool balls drifting up from the basement. She stared at her phone, her father's unexpected visit replaying in her mind like a bad movie on loop.

The audacity of it all made her head spin. Her father had flown all the way from New York City to Madrid on some misguided rescue mission. The same man who, just a week ago, had coldly informed her she no longer had a home in NYC. The irony wasn't lost on her.

"He's lost his damn mind," Zuri muttered to herself, her fingers hovering over her mother's contact. With a deep breath, she hit the call button.

Her mother answered on the third ring, her voice a mixture of concern and fatigue. "Zuri? Are you alright?"

"Mom, you've got to talk some sense into Papa," Zuri said, cutting straight to the chase. "He showed up here, and tried to drag me back to New York. It's insane."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, filled only by her mother's soft sigh. "Your father is... concerned, Zuri. He says Aurélien is hurting you."

Zuri's eyes widened in disbelief. "Hurting me? Mom, that's ridiculous. The only thing Aurélien's hurting is my—" She bit her tongue, the words 'vagina' dying on her lips. That's neither here nor there, she thought, shaking her head. "Look, Mom," Zuri continued, her voice taking on a pleading tone. "You can't be complacent in this. Papa's behavior is beyond strange. It's destructive."

"I understand you're upset, sweetheart, but your father—"

"No, Mom," Zuri interrupted, frustration coloring her words. "You need to call him out on this. Tell him to go back to New York."

Her mother's silence spoke volumes. Zuri could almost see her, standing in their Brooklyn home, torn between her husband's delusions and her daughter's pleas.

A beep in Zuri's ear signaled another incoming call. She glanced at the screen – it was her brother, Malik.

"Mom, I've got to go. Malik's calling," Zuri said, her voice softening slightly. "Please, talk to Papa. Make him see reason. If he doesn't go back to New York soon, I'll... I'll have to take drastic measures to handle this."

She ended the call before her mother could respond, quickly switching over to Malik's call.

"Hey, big brother," she said, trying to inject some lightness into her voice.

"Zuri," Malik's deep voice came through, laced with concern. "I just heard about Papa's little Spanish vacation. You okay?"

Zuri let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, you know, just another day in the Awanto Nchang family drama."

"Want me on the next flight out? I can be there by tomorrow."

The offer warmed Zuri's heart, reminding her that not all of her family had lost their minds. "Thanks, Malik. But I think I need to handle this one on my own. Just... keep an eye on things back home, yeah?"

After a few more minutes of reassurances and sibling banter, Zuri hung up. She sat there for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle on her shoulders. Then, with a determined set to her jaw, she stood up.

The basement beckoned, promising the comfort of Aurélien's presence and the distraction of his friends' camaraderie. As she made her way down the stairs, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses grew louder.

Zuri paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the scene before her. Aurélien was bent over the pool table, his brow furrowed in concentration as he lined up a shot. Hugo and Manuel stood nearby while Julio lounged on a worn leather couch, idly scrolling through his phone.

The normalcy of it all hit Zuri like a punch to the gut. Here, in this basement, life went on. Pool balls clacked, jokes were shared, and the world kept spinning. Yet upstairs, her world felt like it was teetering on the edge of chaos.

Aurélien looked up then, his eyes finding hers across the room. His face softened immediately, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Without a word, he straightened up, abandoning his shot to cross the room towards her.

As he reached her, his hand found the small of her back, a gesture so familiar now it felt like coming home. "Everything okay?" he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Zuri leaned into him, drawing strength from his solid presence. "Not really," she admitted. "But it will be."

Aurélien's arm tightened around her, a silent promise of support. Zuri felt the eyes of his friends on them, a mixture of concern and curiosity evident in their gazes.

Great, now I'm the damsel in distress. Just what I needed.

"Come on," Aurélien murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "Let's go upstairs."

They climbed the stairs, leaving the muffled sounds of pool and conversation behind. As they passed through the living room, they spotted Zeus sprawled on his back on the couch, legs akimbo, snoring softly. The sight of the massive dog looking so undignified brought a smile to Zuri's face.

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head. "Look at that lazy bum. You'd think he was the one dealing with family drama."

"Maybe he's stress-sleeping for us," Zuri quipped, grateful for the moment of levity.

They began their ascent, Aurélien's hand never leaving the small of her back. Zuri found herself hyper-aware of his touch, of the soft grunt he made with each step as he favored his injured foot.

What now? her mind raced as they reached the loft. Do we talk about my crazy father? Pretend nothing happened? Is there a protocol for dealing with your fiancé after your dad tries to kidnap you?

But as they entered the bedroom and Aurélien turned to her, his eyes warm and understanding, some of her anxiety melted away. His gaze trailed over her, taking in the tension in her shoulders, the worry lines creasing her forehead.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked softly, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

Zuri leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. "Not really," she admitted. "Can we just... be normal for a bit?"

"Normal, huh? I can do normal," Aurélien nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "But hey," he said softly, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "I just want you to know that this is about us now. You and me."

Zuri's breath caught in her throat at the intensity in his eyes. "Us," she repeated, the word feeling both foreign and right on her tongue.

"Yeah, us," Aurélien affirmed. "Whatever your father tries, whatever anyone tries, we face it together. Okay?"

Zuri nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear those words until this moment.

As Aurélien leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a soft, reassuring kiss, Zuri felt some of her worries melt away. His mouth was warm against hers, gentle yet insistent. She sighed into the kiss, her hand coming up to cup the nape of his neck.

Aurélien deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips before slipping inside. Zuri met him eagerly, tasting the faint hint of the beer he'd been drinking earlier. His hand slid down her side, coming to rest on her hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles there.

Just as Zuri was losing herself in the sensation, a loud knock on the bedroom door startled them apart.

"Yo, Aurélien!" Hugo's voice called from the other side. "There's a pot of something delicious-smelling in the kitchen. Mind if we have some?"

Aurélien groaned, dropping his forehead to Zuri's shoulder for a moment before calling back, "Sure, help yourselves!"

Zuri couldn't help but giggle at the frustration in his voice. Aurélien lifted his head, rolling his eyes, though there was no real annoyance in the gesture.

"Sorry about that," he murmured, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Where were we?"

Before Zuri could respond, he captured her lips again in a brief, searing kiss that left her breathless.

When they parted, Aurélien's eyes were dark with desire. "Are you sleeping in my bed tonight?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Zuri arched an eyebrow. "Haven't I for the past couple of days?"

"Yes," Aurélien nodded, "but I thought maybe after your father showing up, you would want to be alone."

The concern in his voice touched her. "No," Zuri said softly, running her hand down his chest. "I'll stay with you."

A slow, wicked grin spread across Aurélien's face. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Perfect. So I can finish having my dessert later?"

Zuri rolled her eyes, even as a warmth bloomed in her belly at his words. "You're horny as hell," she said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

Aurélien's grin widened. "I'm always horny when you're involved," he said, his hand sliding down to squeeze her ass playfully.

Zuri yelped in surprise, then dissolved into laughter. As Aurélien joined in, his deep chuckles rumbling through his chest, Zuri felt the last of the day's tension drain away.

Later that evening, the house was much quieter. Aurélien’s friends had crashed in the guest rooms, their boisterous energy finally simmered down after a night of joking, catching up, and reminiscing about the past few weeks. But Aurélien’s mind wasn’t at ease.

He stood in the living room, staring at the security panel on the wall. After Ernest’s unexpected visit, Aurélien had immediately changed the code, his frustration still simmering beneath the surface. He wasn’t sure if Ernest had found out the old code somehow, but it didn’t sit well with him. Zuri’s father had crossed a line, and the thought of him showing up unannounced made Aurélien’s protective instincts flare. He even debated calling someone to upgrade the entire security system.

He clenched his jaw, running a hand over his face. The anger he felt toward Ernest hadn’t completely faded. But it wasn’t just anger—it was the pressure he felt to prove to Zuri that he wasn’t just another phase in her life. He wanted to show her he was serious. That he needed her, craved her in ways that he hadn't even anticipated. The deeper they got into this relationship—whatever it was—the more he found himself falling for her. And not just physically.

It was the way she made him laugh, the way she challenged him, the way she didn’t back down, even when he knew she had her own fears and uncertainties. Aurélien had never expected to feel like this, but now that he did, there was no going back. He wanted Zuri to know. Maybe he hadn’t told her outright yet, but he hoped that his actions had shown her.

His thoughts drifted to the woman waiting for him upstairs. She was all he could think about. Ernest’s sudden intrusion had shaken things, but now he needed to refocus—on her, on them.

Aurélien limped up the stairs, his foot still aching from the injury, but the dull pain did nothing to deter his desire for her. The moment he entered the bedroom, he saw Zuri sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard, flipping through her phone. She looked up as he approached, a soft smile on her lips.

"Hey," she said, her voice calm but still laced with the exhaustion of the evening’s events.

Aurélien didn’t say anything, just crossed the room to her, his eyes locked on hers. He climbed onto the bed, his movements steady and calculated, his hands finding her thighs as he gently pulled her down onto the mattress. Zuri raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, letting him take control.

"Finishing my dessert," Aurélien murmured, his voice low, almost a growl, as he settled between her legs. His hands roamed over her body, tracing the curve of her waist, and the smoothness of her skin. His lips followed, leaving heated kisses along her neck, down to her chest. The way her breath hitched as he took his time, tasting her, only made him want her more.

Zuri gasped as his hands moved lower, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down with ease. There was a slow, deliberate pace, a continuation of their earlier intimacy. He wanted her to feel everything.

Aurélien's gaze darkened with desire as his hands gripped the hem of Zuri’s panties, tugging them down with the same slow, deliberate motion he’d used on her shorts. She bit her lip, watching him, feeling the anticipation build as he undressed her piece by piece. He knelt back, his fingers curling around the elastic band of his basketball shorts, shimmying them down his hips in one swift motion. Without boxers beneath, his cock sprang free, hitting lightly against his lower stomach. The swollen head glistened with evidence of his arousal, the slick sheen of pre-cum catching the low light of the room. He was hard and ready, and the sight alone made Zuri’s breath catch.

He wasted no time, his shirt following the rest of his clothes as he tossed it aside. His lean, muscular body hovered over her, pressing her deeper into the mattress. His foot throbbed, but it was nothing compared to his need for her. He wanted her to feel good, to forget everything else and focus on them. On this.

Aurélien's lips found hers, kissing her deeply as he entered her, their bodies falling into an easy, familiar rhythm. Zuri moaned softly beneath him, her hands clutching at his back, her nails digging into his skin as he moved.

"Just like that, bébé," Aurélien whispered, his voice rough as he rocked into her. He loved the way she responded to him, the soft gasps, the way her hips rose to meet his thrusts. For the first time, there was no barrier, no thin layer separating their skin, and it drove Aurélien wild. He could feel everything—every tight pulse of her walls as she gripped him, every slick movement as he slid deeper. Every sensation was heightened, more raw, and he couldn’t help but groan as the pleasure washed over him in waves. “You feel so good,” he continued, his forehead pressed against hers, his eyes watching the way her face contorted in pleasure.

He talked her through it, his words a steady stream of praise and encouragement, his deep voice grounding her even as her body trembled beneath him. Zuri’s mouth fell open, but no words escaped, and her eyes fluttered shut – yet her expressive face told him everything he needed to know.

"Yeah, just like that… fuck….ma chérie," he murmured, his pace quickening slightly. The way she responded to him—so open, so uninhibited—made him want to give her everything. He could feel her tightening around him, her breaths coming faster, her fingers gripping his arms as she climbed higher and higher.

His hands roamed over her body, one sliding up to her chest, cupping her breast, his thumb brushing over the piercing that adorned her nipple. He could feel her body trembling beneath him, her moans filling the room as he continued to move inside her.

"Let go for me, bébé," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. “I want to feel you. Come on my dick.”

And when she did, her body arching beneath his, her moans turning into cries of ecstasy, Aurélien knew without a doubt that he was falling in love with her. He hadn’t said the words yet, but he hoped she could feel it in every touch, in every kiss, in the way he held her like she was the most precious thing in his world.

Because she was.

His jaw clenched, and with a few more deep thrusts, he reached his peak, releasing a guttural moan. He pulled out just in time, his hand wrapping around his length as he spilled onto her stomach, his breath coming in harsh gasps. For a moment, they both stayed there, panting, their bodies buzzing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Aurélien leaned down, kissing all over her face—her cheeks, her nose, her forehead—before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "That was a one-time thing," he murmured, his tone playful, but his eyes still dark with lingering desire. "Going in raw like that."

Zuri's chest rose and fell as she caught her breath, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "It’s okay. I’m on birth control," she said, her voice soft but teasing.

Aurélien’s wicked grin returned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You should’ve never told me that," he teased, his hand gently brushing her hair from her face. "Now I’m going to want to ruin you every chance I get."

She laughed, rolling her eyes, but the warmth in her gaze told him that she didn’t mind one bit.

He kissed her again, slow and tender this time, before carefully getting up. He grabbed a towel, returning to her side to clean her up, his touches gentle and reverent. After making sure she was comfortable, he tossed the towel aside and slid back into bed, pulling her close against his chest.

"I got you, ZuZu."

She sighed contentedly, snuggling deeper into his embrace, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

_______________________________________________

The next morning, Aurélien stood outside a quiet café, his eyes scanning the street as he adjusted the collar of his Nike tracksuit. The pain in his foot was a dull throb, but he ignored it. He had something more pressing on his mind—meeting with Zuri’s father, Ernest.

Aurélien had gotten Ernest’s number from his own father, Fernand. He hadn’t told Zuri. She didn’t need the stress, not when things were already so complicated with their relationship.

His mind flashed back to the night before—how connected he’d felt to Zuri, how sure he was that he was falling for her. But Ernest? Ernest was the opposite of reassuring. He had doubts, reservations, and Aurélien was determined to put them to rest.

A sleek black car pulled up, and Ernest stepped out, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp. He was a tall man, with an air of authority that had clearly served him well in business. As he approached, his gaze dropped to Aurélien’s limp, and he raised an eyebrow.

"What happened to your foot?" Ernest asked, not bothering with a greeting, his tone cool and dismissive.

Aurélien’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, but he kept his voice calm. "Just a sprain from training. Nothing serious."

Ernest looked unimpressed, his eyes lingering on the bandage peeking out from Aurélien’s shoe. "Doesn’t look like ‘nothing serious.’ You’re limping like a man twice your age."

"It’ll heal," he said, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. "Let’s cut to the chase."

Ernest crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been wondering why I haven’t received what was promised during the bride price negotiation.”

Aurélien frowned, confused for a second. “What are you talking about?”

Ernest’s jaw tightened. “The car. The one that was supposed to be mine, as part of the agreement.”

Aurélien’s stomach turned. The car? That’s what this was about? Still? “You’re upset about a car? Is that why you’re acting like this? Why you're trying to take Zuri away?”

Ernest’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “That’s not the only reason. You’re young, Aurélien. What did you think this arrangement is about? Zuri was never meant for you. She’s just... a tool, a way to ensure what I wanted. A pawn.” His tone sharpened. “She couldn’t even be a good daughter and help her family, especially with all the money and access you have.”

Aurélien’s blood boiled. “That’s not her job,” he shot back, his voice rising. “She’s your daughter, not your business venture. You’re a poor excuse for a father, using her like that.”

Ernest sucked his teeth, unimpressed. “So sensitive. Just like your father.” He sneered, leaning in closer. “Fernand never knew the real reason behind this arrangement. He thought it was about family ties, but I had my own plans. And now, here you are, getting all worked up.”

Aurélien clenched his fists, anger pulsing through his veins. He wanted to knock Ernest flat, but he caught himself, aware of their surroundings. Losing his cool wouldn’t help Zuri or himself. Instead, he straightened up, forcing a cold smile. “Fuck you,” Aurélien said quietly, his voice full of contempt as he turned to limp away.

But before he could reach his car, Ernest’s hand gripped his arm tightly, yanking him back. “I want Zuri,” Ernest growled, “or what was promised to me.”

Aurélien yanked his arm free, glaring at him. “The only thing promised to you is my fist in your mouth.” He shrugged off Ernest’s hold, turning away as his pulse hammered in his ears.

He got into his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he pulled out of the parking lot. By the time he hit the first red light, the anger surged through him like a tidal wave. He slammed his fists into the steering wheel, cursing under his breath. The whole situation was a mess, and he felt trapped in it. But one thing was clear—Ernest had underestimated him, and Aurélien wasn’t going to back down. Not for Zuri, not for anyone.

Later that day, Zuri found herself walking through the bustling market with Zeus trotting beside her, his leash loosely draped around her wrist. The air was filled with the mingling scents of fresh bread, ripe produce, and street food sizzling on nearby grills. The clamor of vendors calling out to customers blended with the hum of conversations. Normally, this kind of atmosphere would excite her, giving her plenty of inspiration for her social media posts. But today, her mind was elsewhere.

Aurélien walked a few paces ahead, carrying a grocery basket. He hadn’t said much since they left the house, and his usual ease seemed replaced by a distant, brooding energy. His broad shoulders were tense, and even his usual attentive glances at Zeus seemed off. It was as if something heavy was weighing on him.

Zuri watched him out of the corner of her eye, chewing on her lip as they stopped at a stand selling fresh vegetables. She picked up a tomato and examined it absently, her mind still on him. She could tell something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Their relationship—if she could even call it that—was still too new, too strange for her to navigate easily. Sure, they'd shared moments here and there, but she hadn’t figured out how to deal with the emotional side of him yet. And from the look of things, he wasn't making it easy.

“You okay?” she asked, trying to sound casual as she placed the tomato in the basket.

Aurélien gave a slight shrug, his eyes scanning the rows of produce. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

Zuri frowned. He wasn’t fine. She’d been around enough people trying to hide their feelings to know when someone was lying, and right now, Aurélien was practically broadcasting it. His jaw was clenched, and there was a certain stiffness to his movements, like he was holding something back.

"You sure?" she pressed, her voice soft but firm.

This time, Aurélien sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before meeting her gaze. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he said, his tone gentler, though still guarded.

Zuri wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t push. Instead, she picked up a bunch of cilantro, handing it to him. "Alright," she said, trying to keep things light. "But you know, bottling things up isn’t healthy. Trust me, I’ve tried."

Aurélien huffed a small laugh but said nothing, taking the cilantro and placing it in the basket. They moved to the next stall, and Zuri fell into step beside him, Zeus trotting happily along. She was trying to think of something else to say, anything to break through the thick cloud of tension that seemed to hang over them.

When they reached a stall filled with various fish, Aurélien finally spoke, his voice low and heavy. "Your dad and I met."

Zuri blinked, taken aback. She hadn’t expected him to bring up Ernest, especially not like this. "When?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Earlier today," he said, his gaze trained on a bunch of bananas he pretended to consider. "He wanted to talk. About you. About the marriage."

Zuri's stomach dropped. "What did he say?"

"Merde," Aurélien let out a slow breath, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "For real, ZuZu, he sees you as a pawn in a bigger game—something to help build the family up. And he’s still fixated on that fucking car."

Zuri felt a wave of anger wash over her. "What the hell? He told you that?"

"Not in so many words, but it was clear," Aurélien replied, shifting his weight.

Zuri’s heart raced. Hearing that her father had confronted Aurélien made her chest tighten. "And what did you tell him?"

Aurélien turned to face her fully now, his expression serious. "I told him to fuck off. And that I wasn’t planning on backing out of this."

Zuri searched his face, trying to gauge his sincerity. "Is that what’s bothering you? What my dad said?"

Aurélien shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the ground. "It’s not just that," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "This whole situation—it’s a lot. I’m trying to figure it out, just like you are. But having your dad show up… it put more pressure on me. Made everything feel more real."

Zuri swallowed, feeling a mix of emotions swirl in her chest. She understood his frustration; it wasn’t like either of them had asked for this situation. "I didn’t know he was going to do that," she said softly. "I’m sorry if it made things worse."

"It didn’t make things worse," Aurélien said, shaking his head. "It just put things in perspective, like I really have to punch your dad in the mouth."

A small giggle escaped her despite the threat. "We don’t have to have all the answers right now," she said after a moment, her voice gentle. "I’m still figuring this out too, you know? It’s okay if we take it one step at a time."

Aurélien gave her a small, appreciative smile. "I know," he said quietly. "I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this."

Zuri's heart softened at that. "And I thank you for that."

"Y'know what would be better?"

She immediately rolled her eyes at him. Of course, his mind was always focused on one thing. "What?"

"A kiss," he replied smoothly, puckering up his full lips into an exaggerated duck face that was both charming and ridiculous.

She scoffed, her annoyance instantly melting away, and stood on her tiptoes to place a teasingly brief kiss on his lips. But when they pulled apart, Aurélien wore a slight frown, and her brows knitted together in confusion. "Are you ever satisfied?"

Kissing his teeth, he shook his head disapprovingly. "No, seriously, what was that? Next time, you have to really lay one on me."

"Aurélien!" she chastised, swatting his chest playfully, though her heart raced at his boldness.

"I’m serious," he insisted, his voice dropping an octave, "especially after my tongue has been all up inside—"

Before he could finish that thought, Zuri surged forward, capturing his lips with hers once more. This time, it was anything but chaste. Their mouths melded together with heat and desire, perfectly in sync as Aurélien's hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. He growled softly, deepening their kiss, his teeth grazing her bottom lip as they parted.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and playful as he leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "Now we can have make-up sex at home."

Zuri laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You’re truly a mess."

"Your mess," he countered with a playful wink, squeezing her waist affectionately, the mischief in his eyes igniting something thrilling within her.

TO BE CONTINUED....Read Chapter 9

#emjayewrites #aurelien tchouameni #aurelien tchouameni x black oc #aurelien x zuri #fouled by fate #footballer x reader #footballer x black reader #real madrid fanfic #football fic

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xzerosparrowx · 6 months ago

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For the June @steddiemicrofic

Prompt: Stuff | wc: 483 | Rating: M | cw: mild language | tags: attempted car theft, Eddie steals cars, mention of Al Munson, meet cute, Steve has a messy car.

an attempt to steal a car

✨️🚘✨️🚗✨️

Allen Munson was right, this is a fancy car. A beautiful burgundy BMW that gleams under the fluorescent lights of the city and cream leather seats that look like they would feel buttery soft. Eddie almost regrets breaking into it as he shoves the slightly bent Slim Jim into the door and unlocks it in one smooth motion. This is a Robin Hood kind of deal. Steal from the rich to give to the poor.

The poor being Eddie and Al Munson.

He quickly gets into the car and is immediately accosted with the sight of random shit strewn across this luxury German vehicle. It's all just… stuff. Cassettes ranging from ABBA, to David Bowie and fucking Tears for Fears are piled in the glove box. Sweaters, shirts and even a bra have been haphazardly thrown to the back seat. Candy wrappers and bottles of soda litter the floor and dashboard. There's even a few dice that Eddie recognises from playing DnD that have been stashed in the little corners of the car.

Too fascinated by the sheer amount of stuff, Eddie doesn't register someone walking to the car until the passenger door is already open and a guy around his age is getting in, shutting the door behind them.

Eddie is a little stupid when it comes to pretty people, probably getting it from Al, along with his prodigious ability to jack cars. So he doesn't make an attempt to escape, just sits there kind of dumb staring at the very pretty guy in front of him.

“Are you trying to steal my car?” the guy asks, his large brown eyes narrowed at Eddie, the spiced scent of expensive cologne surrounding him. It takes Eddie a moment to comprehend that the guy asked him a question.

“Yeah,” Eddie admits like a total idiot, “but then I got a little sidetracked by all the stuff in your car.”

The man laughs, bright and a little embarrassed. “Yeah sorry,” he apologizes, scratching the back of his neck, highlighting the toned muscle of his bicep, “I've been meaning to clean it for ages.”

“Fuck, you don't need to apologize to me, I'm the one who broke into your car!” Eddie exclaims, he feels a little hysterical with this guy next to him apologizing for the mess, knowing that Eddie was trying to steal his BMW.

“Yeah but it's a little embarrassing, right? For a thief to not be stealing your shit because they're judging how you live.” The guy flushes pink as his eyes roam the contents of his car before settling back on Eddie.

Fuck, Eddie feels like a huge dickbag.

“Nah, no judgment from me man,” Eddie shakes his head reassuringly, pulling out the David Bowie tape, “you got some good music here,” and grins at the small smile on the man's face.

“Thanks,” the man chuckles, “I'm Steve, by the way.”

“Eddie.”

#steddiemicrofic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #fanfic #microfic #steddie #my first time writing steddie fiction #stranger things #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction

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aestheticaltcow · 4 months ago

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The Social Media Manager: The Series (part 4)

Just some awkwardness and miscommunication.

The Bear Masterlist

Previous Part

Bars and Miscommunication

It was almost midnight, and Carmy was nowhere to be seen. You were annoyed; was he ghosting you? “Rusty, come play pool with us.” Sara waved at you. She was standing by the pool table with a pair of men. Both were tall, with dark hair, pretty brown eyes, and pearly white smiles. The one on the left looked at you like a piece of meat, while the one on the right stood directly behind Sara. You shook your head.

“I’m still holding out hope.” you laughed, trying to mask your disappointment, as you took another sip from your overpriced cocktail. Sara rolled her eyes; she’d made up her mind about Carmy. He wasn’t showing up tonight, and you shouldn’t invest more effort in pursuing a romantic relationship with him. You stared at your phone and watched the minutes tick by. At 11:59 PM, you finally gave up. After a weak wave to Sara, you started walking toward the bar's exit, feeling a mix of embarrassment and regret. Maybe you were too forward with Carmy. You felt stupid that you’d even tried asking out Marcus’s boss.

You stood outside waiting for an Uber when you heard someone yell your name. Looking over your shoulder hesitantly, Carmy was heading in your direction. He may have been an hour late, but you still felt the air leave your lungs as he jogged in your direction. You wanted to say something witty, but nothing came to mind. “You’re not leavin’, are ya?” Carmy softly asked as he reached your side.

You shrugged and avoided eye contact as you explained being tired. The words floated through Carmy’s mind. He noticed your shift in behavior immediately. He fucked up, and he knew it. “Can I take you home? I got held up at the restaurant-” he started to ask as a black Honda Civic pulled up to where you’d been waiting.

“My ubers here… night, Carmy.” you felt defeated and stupid as you playfully nudged him. “I’ll come by the restaurant next week to get some more content for Instagram.”

“I feel like such a dumbass.” you laughed as you took videos of Syd dicing an onion. Making videos of her making some of the new menu items felt like a good way to create buzz for The Bear- at least until you remembered the events of the weekend and that Carmy was currently hiding from you in the office ‘doing paperwork.’

“You’re not. Carmy just isn’t the one you know.” Syd explained as she scooped the onions into a bowl with garlic and jalapenos. “I haven’t known him that long, but-” Syd cut herself off and adjusted her shoulders. You looked over your shoulder to see Carmy had emerged from the office to help Marcus and Sweeps unload a produce delivery. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to Syd.

And that’s how it went for weeks.

You’d come into The Bear to take pictures and video, then sit in the dining area for a couple of hours to edit the videos into TikToks and Instagram Reels. Carmy would casually watch you from the kitchen and imagine ways he could make it up to you.

You were sick of it. After swallowing your pride, you’d decided to call Carmy. It was a little after midnight, and you didn’t expect him to answer, but he did immediately. “Hey Rusty, everything okay?” he answered. You bit your lip before responding, “Uh, I feel like things have been awkward between us. I guess I just wanted to say sorry?”

“For what? I should probably be the one apologizing.” Carmy laughed as he brought his cigarette to his lips. He smiled when he heard you giggle in response, “How bout we’re both sorry, and we hang out outside of The Bear… like a date.”

“You want to go on a date with me?” you asked, laughing at Carmy’s surprise. “I do,” you answered, hoping you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself. “How about we get dinner tomorrow- since The Bear is closed on Mondays?” you gnawed on the inside of your cheek, waiting for Carmy’s answer. “Uh- yeah, that sounds good. Pick you at 7.”

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fx #carmy berzatto x female reader #the bear fan ficiton #the bear imagine #the bear one shot

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fadedin2u · 11 months ago

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pick up and roll the dice - ch. 3

read in between the lines, i know you love me…

summary: you plan a surprise for ellie’s birthday, and ellie’s doesn’t know what to do about her overwhelming feelings for you.

content: college!au, childhood best friends!au, dealer!ellie, fem!reader, modern!au, ellie is a simp (not surprising), ur also a simp, art major!ellie, kinda slow burn??

word count: 2k

warnings: none really for this chapter!! expect nsfw chapters in the future so MDNI 18+

notes: it bums me tf out how little attention ellie fluff gets on tumblr, but i love writing this series, so if u like to read it, like/reblogs are SO appreciated

read chapters one and two here!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

The day after the party, Ellie’s a wreck. She barely got a wink of sleep that night, unable to stop ruminating on how much she’s fucking up her friendship with you by having this soul-consuming want for you. It’s not like Ellie doesn’t know how bad this could all end. You’re not only her closest friend, one of the few people she actually trusts, but you’re her goddamn roommate. If Ellie fucks this up, there’s no escaping the awkwardness that would inevitably ensue, plus risk losing you completely.

So, she texts Kylie.

E: hey, sorry for going MIA lmao, things got busy, would u wanna grab dinner w me on friday?

Ellie sits down on her bed and rubs her temples. She doesn’t even like Kylie very much, but she’s available, and she’s clearly interested in Ellie, so at the very least Kylie can be a distraction from you.

Ellie feels a black hole of guilt swirling in her stomach from leading Kylie on, but it dissipates as quickly as it came on when you burst through into dorm, kicking off your shoes that you wore to your morning classes. Ellie, usually, is still asleep when you leave for classes, but this morning, she was just lying in bed, completely awake, as she listened to you getting ready, pushing through your hangover.

“Happy 20th Birthday eve!” You exclaim, giving Ellie a bright, cheeky grin.

She rolls her eyes, trying to conceal her smile, “You’re such a fucking dork.

You shrug and laugh, “Hey, it takes one to know one.”

You notice the dark circles under her eyes and frown slightly, “You look like shit.”

Ellie huffs a laugh, “Thanks.”

You sit across from Ellie on your own dorm-style twin bed. “You’re free tomorrow, right?”

Ellie nods, “I’m getting breakfast with Joel that morning, but yeah, I’ll be free after.”

You grin, and mischievous look on your face, “Good.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, “Should I be worried?”

You shake your head, “Nah, you’ll love it. I just can’t wait to see your reaction. Just make sure you’re here at the dorm by 5pm, okay?”

Ellie puts up her hand, raising two fingers, “Scout’s honor.”

You snort, standing up to walk to the bathroom, “That’d probably mean more if you were actually a Scout.”

Ellie scoffs, “I know way more about survival than any of those dipshits, I’m basically an honorary scout, if you think about it.”

You rolls your eyes and laugh, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Els.”

—————

The next day, Ellie’s playing the guitar that Joel made her for her birthday when you walk into the dorm at 5pm sharp.

“Happy Birthday Ellie-Bellie!” You exclaim, knowing her deep-seated hatred for her childhood nickname as you throw a handful of streamers in her direction.

She keeps herself from laughing, “You’re cleaning that up, right?”

You give her a look, “No, I was planning on making you my maid on your birthday. Now come on, we need to get going!”

She puts her guitar to the side and stands up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her t-shirt and cargo pants with her hands.

“Is that from Joel?” You ask, motioning to the guitar.

Ellie nods and smiles wide, “Yeah, he made it for me, it’s super sweet.”

You examine the guitar’s craftsmanship as Ellie laces up her converse.

“You’re not driving right?” She asks.

You give her another look, “I have to, it’s a surprise destination. You can’t drive somewhere you don’t even know you’re going to.”

She groans, “And to think I didn’t even give Joel a proper goodbye.”

You kick her shin playfully, “Shut up, you’ll be fine. I’m an… okay driver.”

Ellie starts walking out of the dorm building with you, “Does an ‘okay driver’ almost commit vehicular manslaughter twice?”

Your face goes hot, “Those kids appeared out of no where, and I stand by that. Besides, the key word is ‘almost’, babe.”

Ellie doesn’t look convinced.

“Besides, you get to be my passenger princess for today,” You say with an obnoxiously cocky grin as you walk into the parking lot.

Ellie rubs her face, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You giggle and walk up to your car, opening the passenger door for Ellie, to which Ellie rolls her eyes at, but you can see that she’s trying not to smile.

You hop in the driver’s seat and say, “Birthday girl gets aux.”

Ellie plays a lot of 80s music during your drive into the city to her surprise destination, her taste in music developed during her years living with Joel. Halfway through Take On Me by A-ha, you pull into a parking lot.

You and Ellie get out of the car and you start leading her to a large building. Once you two can see the sign that reads “The Hansen Planetarium”, a giddy grin breaks out on Ellie’s face.

“Oh fuck yeah, we’re going to the planetarium?!” Ellie asks, walking faster.

You laugh and catch up with her, “What can I say? I know my girl.”

Ellie’s face goes a bit pink and she tucks some loose hair from her half-up bun behind her ear, “Yeah, I guess you do.”

You show the person at the planetarium’s front desk your confirmation for the tickets you bought beforehand, and you go inside.

Ellie stops to read nearly every blurb that’s written in front of each display, and you patiently wait for her, wanting her to take her time and fully enjoy the experience.

In between reading and examining the exhibits, Ellie is listing off factoid after factoid.

“Y’know, Neptune’s only made one full orbit around the sun since its discovery.”

“There’s actually some gravity on the International Space Station, which is kinda weird honestly.”

“Dude, do you know that the moon is really shaped like a lemon?”

You raise an eyebrow at that one, “You’re lying.”

Ellie laughs, “I am not! It’s fucking crazy! It looks round in the night sky, but I swear on my life it’s really shaped like a lemon.”

You shrug, still doubtful but accepting that Ellie’s probably not wrong, knowing her long-time obsession with space.

By the time you’ve made it through the all of the exhibits, Ellie is a little bummed.

“I almost wish there was more to look at, I don’t wanna say goodbye yet,” she says and your lips quirk up into a knowing smile.

“Yeah, it sure is too bad that there’s nothing else to do. On an unrelated note, follow me.”

You lead Ellie to the entrance of the Dome Theater inside the planetarium, and Ellie’s eyes light up when she reads the sign.

“Rock the Dome? Dude. Is this a laser show?”

You laugh and nod, glad that you guessed correctly that Ellie, the nerd she is, would be genuinely excited about this.

Ellie pulls you into a tight hug, “What the fuck? You know me too well.”

Your cheeks go hot and you giggle a little, “Well, at least we can agree on that.”

You give the Usher the tickets you pre-paid for, and let Ellie pick your seats in the Dome Theater, the night sky projected onto the curved walls surrounding you.

When she sits, you sit next to her and she immediately grabs your hand.

“Thank you. Seriously. This is… Genuinely one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.” Ellie says, squeezing your hand with a soft look in her eyes.

You squeeze her hand back, hoping you don’t look as flustered as you feel. “It’s seriously no big deal, Els. You’re my best friend, you deserve this.”

Ellie looks down at her lap and smiles a little, but doesn’t let go of your hand as the laser show starts, fog machines starting to pump out misty clouds into the room that makes the light from the lasers almost look solid.

Your mind is racing as the music comes on, mesmerizing the crowd with the lasers dancing in coordination, ‘This is platonic, right? This has to be platonic. Ellie’s just being appreciative of what I did for her. Jesus fucking Christ, maybe this isn’t platonic?’

You decided to not think about it too much at that moment, and try to enjoy the spectacle of color and light before your eyes.

———

The show included a lot of classic rock from the 80s, including Queen, the Stones, Bowie, Talking Heads, and The Clash. Ellie was awestruck, singing under her breath to every song that she knew, while you tried not to smile too big at how cute she was being.

By the time you two are back at the dorm, Ellie is completely over the moon.

“This was seriously the best birthday I’ve had yet. A new guitar from Joel, planetarium, and a laser show? This day fuckin’ ruled.”

You giggle and go over to your closet, “Well, it’s not quite over yet.”

Ellie narrows her eyes, “No way. You’ve already done so much.”

You pull a thin, wrapped gift from the top of your small closet, and bring it over to where Ellie’s standing.

“I wanted to do so much,” You say, rubbing the back of your neck.

Ellie takes the gift from you and sits down on her bed, intrigued.

“Can I open it?” She asks.

You laugh, “No, I just brought over your birthday gift so you could check out my wrapping job. Go open it, dumbass.”

Ellie chuckles and tears open the wrapping paper, her face morphing into shock as she sees the Special Edition “Savage Starlight” comic book in her hands.

“Holy fuck,” Ellie says, staring at it a second longer before nearly lunging forward to hug you.

You stumble back a bit, laughing as you wrap your arms around her as well.

“I’m guessing that was a good choice?”

Ellie guffaws, “Are you fucking kidding? It’s perfect. How the fuck did you find this, dude?”

You shrug , smiling to yourself, “I have my ways.”

Ellie pulls back from the hug, her freckled face a little pink as she looks back down at the comic book.

“This is too much. Like, way too much.”

You shrug, “Once again, you deserve it.”

Ellie looks down, smiling to herself, “Still. You’re just… This is so fucking thoughtful.”

You laugh a little, feeling flustered by this whole interaction, “What can I say? I have a lot of thoughts in this head, I gotta make good use of them.”

‘So fucking dumb, oh my god,’ you think to yourself, wincing at your response.

Ellie rolls her eyes at you, but her grin is huge and pure. “I’m gonna use the bathroom super quick, but do you wanna read it with me after?”

You smile wide, sitting on her bed, “Absolutely.”

Ellie races to your shared bathroom, and as she’s gone, you pull out your phone and scroll absentmindedly.

You’re pulled away from your phone when you hear Ellie’s phone buzz on her bedside table, right next to you, the screen lit up.

Before you have time to shame yourself for intruding on her personal business, you glance over at her screen, where a text is shown:

Kylie: I would love that! :) what time were you thinking?

Your stomach fills with dread and complete embarrassment. You should’ve known better than to think that Ellie holding your hand was anything more than platonic, that Ellie would ever see you more than her best friend. You knew that Ellie has never, and will never see you the way you see her, and you still let yourself get butt hurt over something as stupid as her getting a text from someone else.

‘I’m so fucking dumb, this is my own damn fault for getting my hopes up.’

You try to go back to scrolling through your phone, but your churning stomach keeps distracting you from thinking about what’s on your own screen, still thinking about the text you saw on Ellie’s.

When Ellie comes back in the room, she tears open the plastic packaging on the comic book and tosses herself onto her bed, pressed against you.

You move away from her slightly, “You ready?”

Ellie’s chest pangs with slight hurt, seeing you distance yourself from her.

“Uh, yeah! Let’s see what the Traveler’s are up to this time,” She says, trying to cover up how let down she is that you clearly don’t want to cuddle with her as usual.

You cross your arms and legs, leaning against the wall against Ellie’s bed. You’re barely able to see the full page of the comic book, but you don’t really care, it’s not like you’ll be able to think of anything except for that text.

Ellie glances over at you, her face crestfallen as she bites her lip, before pulling it together and getting into her “narrator” voice.

“The year is 2186, light years away from planet Earth…”

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

read texts w/ reader and ellie here

i realized i don’t have a taglist for this so lmk if you’d like to be added!

taglist: @elsbabyxx @mikellie

#rose writes #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 #tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie fluff #ellie williams fluff #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader

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lowkeyrobin · 8 months ago

Note

Omg I'm OBSESSED with your writing!!! Can I suggest RanbooxReader where reader is just very flirty to Ran and they just. Short circuit (in a /pos way)

Just wholesome, kinda romancey goodness, nothing suggestive of course :)

oooo yeah of course!! ; and thank you!! I'm so happy you like my content sm 🫶🫶 ; sorry this is so short, I've had 0 braincells recently and I'm halfway functioning

RANBOO ; short-circuit romance

summary ; you like to flirt with ranboo a lot, and it makes them freeze up sometimes

warnings ; language

word count ; 484

masterlist

"You're too sweet for me" You chuckle, "You're an angel, I swear"

Ranboo blinks and quickly looks away, trying to hide the red on their cheeks, creeping up their face and past their mask. You continue talking to stream as they try and factory reset themselves, attempting to make sense of your statement. As they try, it's apparent that they're flustered and confused, also trying to hide it from the stream and webcam in front of you as well.

They quickly excuse themselves, needing to "grab a snack" because they were hungry. Of course, you let them go, reassuring them that that their health and wellbeing was more important than the stream.

You notice the chat catching onto him, but you ignore it, thinking it was just typical shipping.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

A week later, Ranboo's back at your house to stream with you and some friends to play Monopoly. Tubbo sits across from you, Ranboo on his left, then Tommy on the final side. The board sits in the middle of the table, all of you sitting on the floor, on your knees, due to the short stature of the table.

You throw a hundred fake dollars at Ranboo, owing them rent on a space. "You're a bitch. A hot bitch, at that!"

"What does that even mean??" He asks.

"You're a bitch who's hot, Ranboo. C'mon"

They're left speechless, staring at you in confusion as you laugh, hanging the dice to Tommy.

Ranboo feels their face warm up a bit for some reason, finding the random compliment a little heartwarming.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"How do I look?" Ranboo spins around, posing and whatnot in the doorway to your bedroom in a new outfit.

"Zoo-wee-mama"

"I'm sorry, what?" They laugh

"You heard me"

"I'm putting that on my goodnight post"

"Kay"

"You're a piece of shit!"

"Mkay"

"Oh my God"

"You love me"

"Yeah, I do, sadly"

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo had created a little home movie series and were now talking about your character dynamics now that five of the first ten episodes had been released. You and Ranboo sit on the floor in front of Tommy and Tubbo, sitting on the couch.

"No, no, no, it goes, Tommy is the moon, always revolving around the Earth. Tubbo is the Earth, never undershadowed. And Ranboo is the sun, he's just super fucking hot"

Ranboo freezes as they feel their face warm up a bit, unknowing of what to say as Tommy and Tubbo laugh and discuss with you.

"You good, Ranboo?" You ask

They merely nod as you see red creeping onto their cheeks. You smugly smile and get back to the blonde and brunette next to you.

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #mcyt x gn reader #ranboo x reader #ranboo oneshot #ranboo imagine #ranboo #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader

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thissortofsorcery · 4 months ago

Note

Hiii, Gabii 💕

For the soft fic prompt meme:

14. Phone calls

and/or

17. fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or like tucking their hair behind their ear U KNOW WHAT I MEAN THAT SOFT STUFF

Thank you 🫶

YAM I FINISHED IT

I'm sorry it took me so damn long to fill this prompt for you. I know you like it when they're soft! I hope you like this one.

Steve never feels more grown-up than when he and Billy cook together.

It started during senior year — as a dare, of all things. They weren’t even together then, Billy hiding behind a wall of toxic masculinity to protect himself from Neil. He still tracked Steve’s every movement with his eyes. Steve was completely oblivious to his feelings and why his gut twisted every time Billy gave girls that look of his.

“I doubt you can cook anything with the shit you got in your house, pretty boy,” Billy had said, lip curling derisively at the content of Steve’s fridge. “When’s the last time you bought groceries?”

Steve proceeded to cook the best improvised scramble he’d ever done out of sheer determination to make Billy eat his words. He’d had no idea it would turn out good when he started. Usually, his cooking attempts had a 50/50 chance of turning out wonderful or having to be tossed based on the smell alone.

Two years later, and Steve’s a lot better at cooking. He can make all the basics and some fancy stuff, too, with Billy or on his own — but the favorite meals are the ones he and Billy cook together, arms brushing, hips bumping each other out of the way, spoons being offered to taste.

Cooking together is mostly a weekend thing since their shifts end hours apart. Steve’s used to fixing something up quick when he gets home from work so it’s ready by the time Billy is done at the garage. Saturday and Sunday are the days they go all out.

So Steve is caught off guard when his phone rings fifteen minutes before his shift ends on a Wednesday, and it’s Billy calling.

“I wanna try making Ceviche,” is what Billy says, skipping the ‘hello’ and going straight to the point. “So, do you want fish or shrimp?”

“You want to make what?” Steve frowns, barely recognizing the name. He flails toward his work computer to open Google, but he doesn’t know how to spell it out. “Wait, where are you?”

“At the grocery store, Harrington. Keep up,” Billy snarks affectionately. “It’s, like, cooking fish with lemon juice. It’s great.”

“What are you doing at the grocery store?”

“I got off work early. Fish or shrimp, Steve, come on.”

“You know how to make this thing?” Steve says. He’s known Billy long enough that he doesn’t doubt Billy’s cooking skills, but he’s never heard of this dish before or that Billy had and liked it.

“Yeah, pretty boy, it’s called YouTube. It has cherry tomatoes in it; you like those.”

Steve grins. “I do,” he says. “Go with fish, I guess.”

“Great,” Billy says and hangs up immediately. Steve smiles at his phone for no reason.

He’s home half an hour later, and he finds Billy at the kitchen counter already, dicing up the fish fillets into little cubes. Billy’s freshly showered, his work clothes traded for soft sweatpants and a tank top. Steve stops to admire the curve of his strong shoulders and the swell of his biceps, his eyes following the familiar expanse of golden skin that still makes his heart flutter years later.

“Hey,” Steve says, announcing himself as he enters the kitchen, so Billy has time to put the knife down before Steve hugs him from behind. Steve buries his nose in Billy’s shoulder, breathing deeply. Billy leans back against him, humming contentedly as Steve strokes Billy’s sides.

“Hi,” Billy says. “I’d hug you back, but my hands are gross.”

Steve kisses Billy’s shoulder and snorts. “It’s fine. How can I help?”

“Can you get started on the garlic?” Billy directs. Steve follows, and they fall into a familiar dance in their tiny kitchen, sharing counter space and anecdotes about their days.

Cooking together is peaceful, the way few things in their lives have been, and Steve lets the feeling of home and family wash over him. His shoulders relax, and the headache that’s been threatening to bloom in his right temple fades away, insignificant in the face of Billy’s laughter at Steve’s impressions of his coworkers.

A light touch to Steve’s forehead makes him blink. He looks away from the lemons he’s squeezing to find Billy brushing away a lock of hair that had started poking Steve in the eye the second he got lemon juice all over his hands. Billy’s hand is light, his fingertips soft as he tucks Steve’s hair behind his ear, and a pleasant shiver goes down Steve’s spine.

“Thanks,” Steve says, a dumb smile on his face. Billy’s eyes are soft, watching Steve with familiar warmth.

“Anytime, pretty boy.”

The quiet, gentle gesture spreads warmth in Steve’s chest, down his spine, down his arms, all the way to his sticky fingertips. There have been thousands of them over the years they’ve been together, but they never fail to make Steve blush and duck his head like a preteen. They’re affectionate with each other really often, but there’s something about finding the space to have these little moments in the middle of doing mundane, everyday things that strikes a deep chord in Steve.

“I love you.” The words escape Steve’s lips, the reflection of a feeling so natural to him that they’re behind every other sentence he says.

The corner of Billy’s mouth ticks up, expression morphing into what used to be a smug smirk when he was younger, and now is a soft, fond expression that’s only ever aimed at a very select group of people.

“Sap,” is what Billy says, but the warmth in his tone is clear.

“I know you like it,” Steve teases, smiling.

“What I’d like is for you to be done with those lemons,” Billy snarks, his elbow brushing Steve’s.

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “I’m done.”

When they’re finished, and the glass tray is in the fridge, Billy pulls Steve to the couch so they can make out for the hour it takes for the lemon juice to cook the fish. And it comes out pretty damn good — though Steve’s pretty sure he’s biased, only because he and Billy made it together.

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #prompt fill #sorcery writes

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hippiegoth97 · 4 months ago

Text

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 16

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 15

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafescurtainbangz @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @usergeta @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, yelling/arguing, anger, angst, crying, nightmares, mentions of blood/violence/death, parental issues, mentions of terminal illness, smut, oral sex, unprotected sex, fluff

Word Count: 8.4k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 16: Hold Me Now

Sunday, April 23rd, 1989

"Alright, Y/N. You've gotta roll a perfect twenty to win. Think you can do it?" Eddie asks, tossing you the D20 from across the table. You catch it in your hand, looking at it anxiously. This is your last chance to clinch a win, otherwise you and your fellow players' journey is all for naught on this Sunday evening.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" You reply in uncertainty, heart racing with anticipation. You can feel everyone's eyes on you as you rattle the plastic icosahedron in your sweaty hands. You release the die after far too many shakes, and it chatters to the table. The moment plays out in slow motion, each side coming into view in agonizing succession. The players around you watch the spectacle unfold, loudly hoping and praying for the odds to work in your favor. You look on hopefully, biting your lip as your pupils follow the movement. The object in question gradually comes to a stop, rolling over one last time to display the numbers 2-0 in bright, blinding red paint. "Holy shit." You exhale, unable to believe you've actually succeeded. You look around the room, met with seven pairs of widened eyes and accompanying mouths hanging slack jawed to mirror your own skepticism.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do it! Congratulations to Y/N on claiming a victory on her first game!" Eddie announces with a proud grin, bowing to you while extending his arms dramatically.

"Fuck yeah!" Dustin cheers, and the others join in with hoots and hollers while they squish you in a huddle of bodies. You're over the moon to have done so well on your first try, jumping up and down with glee. You imagine this is what it's like when sports teams win their big game, adrenaline and explosive joy coursing through your body when you realize you’ve managed to pull it off.

Eddie scoots his chair out, pushing his way through the crowd to reach you. He reels you into his embrace, kissing you passionately as a reward for truly becoming the Queen of Hellfire. Your knees give out as you melt into him, and he lifts you up to wrap your legs around his waist. "Well done, sweetheart." He says when his lips leave yours, an unrestrained hunger in his eyes. You can see he is nearly desperate to celebrate your achievement in his particularly ravenous way.

You nod in understanding, smirking as you think about what he's going to be doing to you as soon as you're alone. "Thanks, love. Let's clean up and go home, hm?" You suggest, gently squeezing his sides with your thighs. Eddie puts you back down, and you assist him and the others in scooping up dice and player pieces. You can tell he's rushing, clumsily dropping his papers on the floor. He needs to get out of Mike's basement as soon as possible. You still have to drop the other kids at their homes after this, and neither of you want to take a second longer than necessary. You can't deny that during this whole weekend, every turn and attack and spell has served as a unique type of foreplay for you two. You've never shared such intensity before, it's a wonder nobody picked up on you two smoldering the entire game.

Friday was certainly mind-blowing, but last night was even crazier. You rode Eddie's cock for what felt like hours in his bed, crying his name to high heaven while you came over and over. He even pulled out some handcuffs he'd neglected to tell you about before, chaining your hands behind you while he railed you from the back. You called him Dungeon Master whenever he asked, well, more like commanded. He spanked your ass harder and harder every time you said it, the red-hot sting on your flesh sending you over the edge all on its own. He said the filthiest things to you all night, and you reciprocated by telling him just how fucking good he was, how you're his and only his. There must have been at least fifteen orgasms between the two of you, most of which were yours. Making you cum is one of Eddie's favorite things, and he just can't stop himself until you tap out.

You say goodbye to Mike and his parents, loading the rest of the kids into the van for the final time this weekend. You drop off Lucas and Erica first, then Dustin, and finally the Tanners as they live the furthest away from the Wheeler house. Once Ian and James are safely inside, you and Eddie drive over to his place. Wayne just so happens to have a night off from work, a much-needed rest from back-breaking labor at the plant. You'd both been hoping to have the place to yourselves, but you suppose your libidos will just have to wait a while longer.

Eddie makes dinner for the three of you, taking this as a chance to have the meal you'd planned to share before Wayne got sick. "Need any help, Eds?" You offer from the couch, beer in hand as you sit with Wayne. He's got a baseball game on, and you can't follow it worth shit. He offers helpful commentary in his comforting tone, and you slowly grasp the rules as you listen.

"Nah, you just sit pretty and let me work my magic." Eddie replies with a slight panic in his voice. He's trying out one of the recipes from the books you bought him. He's practiced it a couple of times when he's home alone, all of which have ended in using the fire extinguisher from underneath the sink. But he has faith that with you here as his good luck charm, he can finally do it. He scrambles around the kitchen, tenderizing chicken and setting potatoes to boil on the stove.

"Don't burn down the whole trailer, now. I'd hate to end up homeless 'cause you wanna impress your lady friend, Edward." Wayne says, making you laugh. He gives you a kind smile, returning the attention to the men on TV swinging bats and running in tight white pants.

"No fires today, Wayne. I'd bet my left nut on it." Eddie retorts, clanging bowls and utensils around hastily. You crane your neck to inspect what he's doing, but you really have no fucking clue what's going on in there.

"I'd much prefer money or smokes, kid." Wayne replies while chuckling to himself.

"I'm sure it'll be great, darling. I believe in you." You call to Eddie in encouragement, still watching the players swing and miss on the screen before you.

"Thank you, baby." Eddie smiles, and he starts to relax. He knows damn well he could present you with a plate absolutely burnt to a crisp and you'd eat every last bite, telling him how delicious it was afterwards. He takes a deep breath, letting the few chef's skills he has take the reins. He's carefully reading the recipes in the book step by step to stay on the right track.

The smells wafting over to you from the kitchen some time later are making your mouth water, thyme and rosemary are particularly present. Your stomach growls loudly, giving yourself away. "How much longer, Ed? I think Y/N's 'bout ready to eat the couch!" Wayne teases, though you take no offense. You were tempted to ask yourself, but you didn't want to interrupt Eddie's process.

"Almost done, like...five more minutes!" Eddie says as he pulls a pan out of the oven. The smell only grows stronger, and your belly tenses as you await the opportunity to taste whatever he’s created. He opens the cabinet to pull out some plates, setting them on the counter to dish out the food. He places a large, roasted chicken breast on each plate, cutting into his own to make sure it's done. "Perfect." He murmurs to himself, smirking at how tender and juicy the inside of the meat is. He scoops potatoes and green beans from the pan to sit beside the chicken, and brings each plate to the table once he's finished. "Dinner is officially served." He announces, retrieving silverware from one of the drawers. You and Wayne meet him at the table. Eddie sits between the two of you, waiting expectantly for you to comment on your plates.

You look down at the meal before you, steam rising off of it in the dim lighting. It's straight out of a picture book, and you can't help just staring at it for a moment. "Wow, Eds. It looks amazing! Smells really good, too." You glance at him, giving a proud smile like the one you received from him earlier today. You pick up your fork and knife, cutting into the chicken. The dull blade glides through the meat effortlessly, and you just know you're gonna have to hold back a vulgar sound when you finally taste it. You pierce the slice with your fork, bringing it to your lips. You bite down, gasping at the juices releasing from the tender flesh. You chew slowly, your mouth sitting open in shock once you swallow.

"Well? How is it?" Eddie asks while biting his lip. You haven't said anything for a moment, making him nervous. You meet his gaze, somehow more turned on than you were after winning the campaign. There's something so attractive to you that Eddie can cook like no one else on this earth. Everything he makes for you is a labor of love, and it puts all others to shame.

"It's fucking fantastic!" You tell him honestly, unable to hold back as you stare at him with dilated pupils.

"I second that." Wayne says with his mouth half-full. He didn't bother to participate in any dramatic effect. You don't blame him, this chicken is so damn good.

"You really think so?" Eddie blushes at the praise.

"Of course I do." You reply sincerely. He doesn't say anything else, just leans over slightly to give you a thankful kiss. Eddie can't resist grabbing the sides of your face, deepening the kiss with no regard for the other company in the room.

"Jesus, cut it out! I'm tryin' to eat, ya damn horndog!" Wayne chides, directing his disdain at his nephew as opposed to you. Eddie breaks away abruptly, digging into his own serving to hide his embarrassment.

The three of you eat hastily, utterly enamored with your food. Everything is cooked just right, with the optimal amount of seasoning. Eddie clears the plates once you're all finished, rejoining you at the table. "That was really amazing, baby. Thank you for making it." You speak affectionately, reaching over to take his hand in yours.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. I'm glad you liked it. It's all thanks to those books you gave me." He replies, stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

"You're turnin' into a regular little housewife, Ed." Wayne jokes as he takes a swig of his beer.

"I never took you to be so old-fashioned, Wayne." You quip, keeping the light laughter going in the room. You really enjoy the relationship these two have. It's the perfect balance between supportive and ball-busting. To be welcomed into their little world so easily is truly a treat in your eyes. The families of almost all your exes were much more conservative with their attachments.

"I can promise you, there ain't a damn thing that's traditional about the Munson family." Wayne chuckles, before continuing. "But I sure as shit wouldn't have it any other way." He claps a hand on Eddie's shoulder, shaking it in playful tenderness. "Speakin’ of, Wilfred called again today." He says as gently as he can, and the statement snuffs out the happy energy in the room. It pains Wayne to say a single word about his brother, even his name feels like knives scraping against his gums. But he wouldn't bring him up if it wasn't important.

"What’s the bastard want this time?" Eddie asks, shrinking in his chair as his mind slips into survival mode.

"Well, I,uh…I hate to say this when we've been havin' such a good time tonight. But, I 'spose there ain't a convenient time for bad news." Wayne dances around the subject, but you imagine whatever he's about to say is going to drop like a bomb. Heavy, explosive, destructive. You worry how Eddie will react, you can see his fight or flight battling with itself all over his face. Wayne sighs, clearing his throat. "He's dyin', Edward."

Eddie chuckles abruptly, shaking his head. "Voluntarily?" He asks as a poor joke, falling into an unnerving fit of laughter.

You and Wayne look to each other, worried that your man has lost his mind. "Eddie, please be serious. It ain't funny." His uncle speaks sternly, but it only makes him laugh harder. His eyes water from how hard he's going, and his body shudders with each guffaw. It's like he's heard the world's most hilarious joke, laughing himself to death over it. "He's got cancer, goddammit!" Wayne bangs his fist on the table, becoming angry at Eddie cackling his head off at this news.

"GOOD! THAT'S WHAT HE FUCKING DESERVES, WAYNE!" Eddie screams back, his face going red as his features scrunch into unbridled rage. It's like a switch has flipped, the humor is gone as soon as it came. He's breathing heavily, a small step away from snarling. He stands up abruptly, knocking his chair over. It bangs against the floor, scraping the beaten linoleum. He stomps down the hall with his fists balled at his sides. He goes into his room, nearly breaking the door off its hinges when he slams it. You flinch at the sound, pinching your eyes shut in reflex.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have said anything tonight. I just don't know what to do." Wayne apologizes, sniffling slightly. He didn't want to upset Eddie, far from it. He's conflicted about his brother dying. On the one hand, he's one of the few people left in his family. On the other, he's a real piece of shit that beat his wife and son after falling to the bottom of the bottle. Wayne was always taught that blood is thicker than water, but he's been doubting the validity of that statement more and more when it comes to Wilfred.

"It's fine, Wayne. I'm very sorry about your brother. This can't be an easy time for you. I know he's not the greatest guy or anything, but I can tell you value family a lot." You pause, contemplating if you should even ask the one question that's flitting about in your mind. "Did he say how long he's got?" His expression changes slightly, and you worry you're overstepping now. "You don't have to tell me, I know I'm not fam一"

"Don't say that, Y/N.” Wayne cuts you off. “You count as family in my eyes, and you do even more in Eddie's. He loves you more than I ever saw him capable of before. Don't ever doubt the well-earned place you have here, ya hear me?" He speaks purposefully, ensuring every word he says rings true.

"Okay." You nod, letting him continue the conversation.

"To answer your question, he's got a couple months left at best. And his dyin' wish is to see Edward one last time. To apologize or some shit, make amends. Fucker had his whole life to make shit right with his son, and he waits 'til he's about to meet the goddamn devil himself to do it." He chuckles wryly, letting out a resigned sigh.

"I'm not sure Eddie's gonna go for that. I don't really blame him. I certainly wouldn't if I was in his shoes." You can already see how a potential try at convincing him to go through with it would pan out, and it ends in yelling and tears. Maybe a hole punched into the wall for good measure.

"I can't say I disagree. But I promised Wilfred I'd get 'im over there. He's my brother, and he ain't gonna be tormentin' this world much longer." His eyes close for a moment, gearing up to say something else that he finds very difficult. "Look, I hate to ask this of ya, but can you try to talk to Eddie? I know he'd listen to ya more than anyone else. Feel free to tell me to shove it, but it would mean the world, Y/N."

You nod again, wanting to help him out. "I'll try my best, Wayne. I'm not gonna push him into it if he's not digging the idea. I love Eddie too much to force him to face that man if it'll only end up hurting him."

"That's more than fair, darlin'. Just try your best, and I'll take 'no' for an answer if he chooses it." You both stand up from the table, meeting in a soft hug. "I don't envy your position, that's for sure." He laughs, drawing a giggle from you too.

"No shit. But it's better to try and get shot down, than to end up regretting not trying at all. I'm sure that's something my old man learned that hard way in the end." Wayne gives you a gentle squeeze at the mention of your own father, Eddie had told him about the funeral a week or so ago.

You let one another go after a moment, wiping a couple stray tears from your eyes. You make your way down the hall to attend to your man, afraid of what version of him you might find lurking inside his room. You quietly knock on the door, hearing nothing on the other side. You apprehensively twist the knob, pushing the door open as gently as you can. You find Eddie sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor. His hair drapes to hide his face, and the heel of his foot taps incessantly against the floor. "What do you want?" He asks, barely fighting back the urge to yell at the top of his lungs.

"Eddie..." He softens slightly when he realizes it's you. His foot slows down, and his trembling subsides slightly. "I don't really...know what to say. All the usual questions make no sense. You know, ‘are you alright?’, or ‘can I get you anything?’. So, I guess I'll try this instead. What do you need?" You close the door behind you, walking across the room to sit beside him. You don't touch him just yet, you don't want to enter his space unless he invites you.

"I need you, Y/N. Just you." He whispers, raising his head to bring it level with yours. He's been crying silent, angry tears. His eyes are red and puffy, and his plump bottom lip shakes independently from his body. You bring yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He buries his head against your neck, releasing an borderline inhuman wail that vibrates against your skin. One that rivals the guttural sounds he made after his fight with Jason. His own arms squeeze you so tight, but it's a welcome constriction. His body aches for yours, clinging to you like an infant to its mother. He just needs you to make everything okay again.

"It's okay, love. I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere, alright?" You stroke his hair with your hand, rocking him gently side to side to soothe his distressed soul.

"I'm sorry I got so mad, Y/N. I didn't wanna yell like that. I'm sorry if I scared you." Eddie helplessly attempts to apologize, his words coming out choppy and pained. His sobs wrench his insides around, almost making him ill. He wants to stop crying, to stop making you have to comfort him so much. He's always hated how emotional he is, sometimes he cries at absolutely nothing at all. If he only knew that it's one of the many reasons why you love him so much. His vulnerability is just a bullet-point in a long list of things that make him the greatest man you've ever known.

"Baby, it's okay. Don't worry about it, I know you weren't mad at me. And Wayne knows too, he knows you're just upset. And that's okay. You don't have to be anything but what you feel right now. You're safe here with me. I promise, Eds." You coo at him, hoping you can help him relax soon. This certainly isn't how you pictured tonight going, the exact opposite, actually. But life's funny that way. Just when you think everything's sunshine and lollipops, an atom bomb falls from the sky to blow it all to pieces.

You help Eddie ride out the tears, getting him to lie down after carefully removing his clothes. He nestles under the covers, only his eyes and the top of his head peeking out at you. He's gone silent now, his throat hurts terribly from his meltdown. The only sound from him is the steady breathing through his nose. You continue to caress his hair, it's one of the easiest ways to calm him down. He looks so tired, and you won't lie that tonight has worn you out as well. You were riding on an incredible high that you hoped would end with even more incredible sex, but now you're both feeling lower than you ever thought possible. Sleep's heavy hands rest on your shoulders, overriding everything else. "You comin' to bed, sweetheart?" Eddie asks meekly, his words muffled by the blanket he's taken shelter in.

"Yeah. I just have to pee first. Do you need anything? Maybe some water?" You offer, he's probably a little dehydrated after all the crying. He nods, flicking his eyes away from you in shame. "Baby, please don't be hard on yourself. You haven't done anything wrong. I'll be right back, okay?" You insist that there's no reason for him to be so sorry, but he can't help feeling like a scolded child. It's not anything you said, nor any of Wayne's words either. It's what he's saying to himself, hidden within the confines of his skull.

You're being an asshole, Eddie. You yelled at Wayne, and now Y/N has to baby you. How can you possibly think you're good enough for her? You may be well into your twenties, but you're still the same silly child you've always been. Crying because your daddy who used to beat you is dying? How pathetic. A single tear forces itself from his eye, and he quickly wipes it away before you can see. He hears the toilet flush, and the sink turning on and off. He listens to your footsteps landing softly along the floor to the kitchen and back to him. You re-enter the room, coaxing him to sit up and drink from the glass you brought him. "Thanks." Eddie says simply, slurping down the water in a few seconds flat. It hits hard in his stomach, cooling him down from the inside out. He hands you the empty cup, and you set it on the nightstand. You flick off the light, removing your clothes to join Eddie under the covers.

Before you can roll over to let him spoon you, he snatches you into his arms. He tangles his legs with yours, not wanting to let go. You stiffen at the sudden movement, but relax immediately when you realize what he wants. You get as far into his space as you can, your tits pressing against his bare chest. "I love you, Eddie." You give him a gentle kiss, not expecting him to return it with much force. But he does, more hungry and desperate than you anticipated. But the feeling behind it isn't lust, it's longing. Even though you're right here with him, any centimeter of space between you feels like miles. Eddie wants more than anything to be okay, but tonight's news has fractured something in him. He'll mend, with time. But he needs you now more than ever before, and he really hopes you're up to the task.

"I love you too, princess." Eddie replies once you pull away. The way his lips met with yours makes your heart ache terribly. You know he's struggling right now, and you have every intention of staying by his side through this difficult time. You want him to lean on you, you want to be his rock. You dread the idea of even breathing a word of the promise you made with Wayne to Eddie, you're afraid it'll push him off the deep end. You choose to put the notion aside for now, rest is much more important, for both of you. Sleep takes you both into its inviting depths swiftly and easily, but the journey you embark upon in dreamland is far from pleasant.

You're strapped to the kitchen chair in the trailer, unable to move. Darkness surrounds you, the only light coming from the overhead lamp above the table. Wayne and Eddie are trapped just the same as you, seemingly reliving the events that took place at dinner. Eddie's laughing maniacally, his eyes going wild and bloodshot as he cackles with glee. He's staring at you, jaw almost unhinged like a snake. You can see all his teeth, his tongue, the back of his throat lit up by the light. The moisture in his mouth and eyes twinkles eerily at you. The veins in his forehead and neck stick out prominently beneath his flesh that has reddened from laughing so hard.

"Shut up! Stop laughing! It's not fuckin' funny! He's dyin', you big idiot! Stop it! Just stop it!" Wayne screams repeatedly at his nephew, practically turning blue at the force of his pleading.

"GOOD! THAT'S WHAT HE FUCKING DESERVES, WAYNE!" Eddie bellows back, the sheer volume of it shaking the walls of the trailer. "HE SHOULD CONSIDER HIMSELF SO LUCKY! IF I HAD IT MY WAY, I'D KILL THE FUCKER MYSELF! SLICE HIM UP WITH THAT FUCKING SHIV HE CUT ME WITH! GIVE HIM A TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE!" His voice morphs into a deep roar, almost like it's not his anymore at all. This is when you realize there's been another figure with you in the room this whole time. An older man, just barely peeking out from behind your boyfriend like a shadow. His eye meets yours, and he makes himself known once he sees you've found him out.

He's tall and slender, emaciated even. His hair sits shaggily atop his head, messy, gray, and thin. His yellowed eyes are sunken into his skull, and his prison jumpsuit sits loosely on his skeletal form. He's smirking menacingly at you, and you know instantly that this is Wilfred standing before you. Though he may be much older and sicker than Eddie, the family resemblance is quite striking. His hand is hidden behind Eddie's back, who has now fallen silent once you noticed his father. You watch Wilfred flex his arm slightly behind his son, and use him as a puppet to speak to you. "Nice to meet you, darlin'." Eddie's mouth moves unnaturally, Wilfred's voice coming out of his snapping smile. You hear wet squelching at every word, you imagine it's a grisly scene behind Eddie's back. His father's hand shoved deep inside him, blood and viscera leaking out of the brutally formed hole.

"No." Is all you can manage to respond with. You just look on in horror, you don't want to see another second of this.

"What's the matter, sweet-cheeks? I could very well be your father-in-law one day, there's no need to be so rude. Use your words, pretty thing!" Wilfred's other arm stretches across the table to grasp your chin roughly. His fingers are grimy, smudging grease and dirt on your flesh. You flinch at the sensation, wanting to vomit from the smell of him. It's like rotting flesh and sulfur, like he's a demon who rose up from the depths of hell.

"Let him go!" You shout helplessly. He just shakes his head no, maneuvering Eddie's head to mimic the sentiment.

"No can do, darlin'. And since you have no manners, I guess I'll just have to finish what I started!" He releases your face, reaching into his pocket to pull out the shiv Eddie told you about. It's rusty and dull, still coated in blood from the last time.

"Leave him alone! Don't you hurt him!" You scream, tears streaming down your face. But he doesn't heed your words one bit. Instead, he brings the blade to Eddie's throat.

"Say goodbye, princess." Wilfred's voice says through Eddie's lips one last time. Your love's face still smiles at you, a single tear rolling from his left eye. And in one smooth motion, the blade slashes across Eddie's neck. Thick, dark blood pours from the wound, spraying and splattering on the table, his clothes, the floor. A smatter of it whips onto your cheek, uncomfortably warm and stinking of iron.

"NO! EDDIE!" You cry, trying to fight against your restraints. But it's no use, and Eddie sits helplessly beside you in his chair. His eyes don't close, nor his mouth as the life drains out of him. He's just perfectly still with that awful expression on his face. His throat gushes blood, winnowing down to a pitiful drip until there's nothing left. You suddenly wonder where Wayne is, but he's gone when you look across the table. No chair, no body, nothing. And when you look back, there's no sign of Wilfred either. He's not in plain sight, and he's not acting like Eddie's shadow again. You're all alone, still stuck in this chair, with no one to save you. You release visceral wails and screams, staring at Eddie's grinning corpse hopelessly.

"Y/N!" You hear Eddie yell as he shakes you awake frantically. You sit up in bed, gasping as you come to in the darkness of his room. You're soaked in sweat, and there's a beam of light coming through the open door. Wayne's kneeling at the side of the bed, holding your hand while Eddie keeps the blanket above your breasts. "You were screaming in your sleep, sweetheart. Brought me out of my own damn nightmare. Are you okay?" He asks, turning your head to look at him. You meet his eyes, finding nothing resembling how they were in your dream. They're wide and terrified, searching yours for an explanation to your worrying behavior.

"It was terrible, Eddie! We were at the table, strapped to the chairs! And you were laughing so loud! And your dad was there, moving you around like a puppet! And he slit your throat open, there was blood everywhere! And then I was all alone! It was awful, just awful!" You recount your night terror in a sobbing ramble, not caring how irrational or incoherent you sound. Eddie pulls you closer to him, shushing you as you cry violently against his chest.

"Jesus Christ. You two gonna be alright in here?" Wayne asks, giving Eddie a concerned expression. Eddie nods, shooing his uncle away. Wayne's hesitant to leave, and he feels absolutely horrible. He regrets giving you the task of getting Eddie to see his father, guessing that you've been let in the know about what Wilfred did at their last visit. He sighs, shaking his head in shame at himself. He feels like he's making all the wrong decisions here, upsetting the both of you in different ways. At this point, he doesn't give a damn what his brother wants. Wilfred can suck the devil's three-pronged prick as far as he's concerned. He leaves you two alone, making a beeline for the fridge to get another beer. Your screams scared the absolute shit out of him, and he hopes to never hear them again.

"Shh, it's okay, baby. It was just a dream. It wasn't real. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." Eddie coos, trying his best to soothe you. How is it that every time something stressful happens, you two have to take turns getting the other to stop crying? Eddie glances at the clock, and it reads 1:45AM. Neither of you have been asleep very long, maybe an hour or two at best.

"You said you had a nightmare too. What happened?" You ask with your face still smushed against him.

"Just the same dream I've told you about before, ending up in prison with my dad. Wasn't nearly as scary as waking up from your screams, though. And Wayne came bursting in here wondering what the hell was going on. It all happened so fast, I thought it was another nightmare, to be honest." He speaks calmly, though the events that took place while he was half-asleep have frightened him to the core.

"Well, I'm certainly not feeling tired anymore." You reply, nuzzling his neck with your head.

"Me either. We could watch a movie if you want, I doubt Wayne's going to sleep anytime soon. Or I could read to you, we could play cards or something. Anything you want, sweetheart." Eddie makes plenty of suggestions, all of which could certainly help. However, you're afraid that Wilfred could be lurking around any corner, hiding in the shadows, puppeteering your boyfriend. You're so afraid to open your eyes, worried you'll be strapped to the kitchen chair all over again.

"I'd love to do any of that, but I'm so scared, Eds. I can't open my eyes, I don't want to see anything horrific like that again." Your voice trembles, and your heart continues to pound.

He tuts. "I promise you won't, baby." Eddie puts his hands on either side of your face, causing you to flinch. "Relax, love. Let me lead you." He says patiently. You nod in his grip, allowing him to bring your head level with his. It's disorienting to sense movement when all you can see is pitch black. "Open your eyes, sweetheart. It's just me here, no one else." He assures you.

"Okay." You reply shakily, taking a moment to breathe deeply. Inhale, hold, and exhale. You force your eyelids to retract, finding Eddie's kind expression waiting for you on the other side. You let out a sigh of relief, rolling your eyes at yourself for being so afraid.

"Atta girl. See, not so scary now, right?" He smiles, keeping it smaller than usual to avoid frightening you. "So, what would you like to do, angel?" He asks. He'd do whatever you want at this point. Buy you ice cream, go streaking downtown, rob a bank. Anything to help chase the monsters away.

You think on it for a moment, contemplating your options. You don't really want to leave the bedroom, the mere sight of the kitchen would probably make you burst into tears. You just want to be close to Eddie, to latch onto him and never let go. Naturally, your brain makes the only logical conclusion it possibly can in this situation. You bring your hand to Eddie's cheek, stroking it gently. He hums at the contact, watching you closely. He has an inkling as to where this is going, which worries him. He wants to please you, any way you desire. But he wonders if this is what you really want. His hand takes hold of yours, lowering it between your bodies for a moment. "What is it, Eddie?" You ask, realizing he might not be in the mood.

"Y/N. I'll give you anything you want, you know that. I just want to make sure you're not jumping the gun here. So please, use your words. Tell me exactly what I can do to make you feel better." He speaks seriously, his loving face illuminated by the moon shining through the window.

"I don't want you to call me a slut, or choke me, or bite me. I don't want you to be rough with me, or make me scream, or slap my ass." You're trying to state things as plainly as possible. Telling him that as much as you want this, you just can't handle your usual dynamic tonight. "I want you to be slow, and gentle, and tender. I want you to cover me with kisses, and say pretty things to me. I want you to make love to me, Eddie. Use your love for me to make the monsters go away. Please?" You don't mean to come off so dramatic, needy, even. But you know he understands you perfectly.

"That's all I needed to hear, princess." Eddie replies, leaning in to kiss you deeply. You let him take the lead, and he lays you down on the mattress, hovering above you as your mouths quietly smack together. Your head rests on the pillow, and you feel his hands caressing all over your body. His palms make contact with your tits, squeezing them ever so softly. You moan when he grazes your hardened nipples. You don't want to make a lot of noise, you figure Eddie's uncle doesn't need to be traumatized by your screams again. "You're so beautiful, baby." Eddie whispers, moving his lips to your neck. He peppers the skin with wet, warm kisses, never biting down.

"And you're very handsome, Eddie. Your lips feel so good. I want to feel them all over me." You're feeling very warm beneath him and the blanket that rests just above your waist.

"Your wish is my command, angel." He says sweetly, listening to your request without hesitation. He slowly moves his mouth along to your right shoulder, and down the length of your arm to the tips of your fingers. You let out breathy moans all the while, savoring every time he meets your flesh. He repeats these steps on the other side, moving on to your chest afterwards. His blazing touch meets the swells of your breasts, and the valley between them. "I love your tits, sweetheart. They’re so soft, and perfect in my hands." He compliments you, giving you a loving glance before taking your left nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls around your sensitive bud, making you gasp.

"God, your tongue is amazing, too." Your eyes flutter closed. Eddie's pace is patient, in no rush whatsoever. He's absolutely worshiping you, refusing to neglect a single part of your body. You're becoming unbelievably wet for him. You can feel your arousal seeping into the bed below you as it drips from your cunt. He migrates to your other breast, a muted whine escaping your lungs. "Fuck." Your insides are bubbling, growing towards a boiling point.

"I love making you feel good, sweetheart. Your noises are music to my ears." Eddie scoots down further, giving your stomach and hips repetitive little pecks. They're warm and ticklish, tempting you to squirm. His tongue dips into your navel, pulling another stifled moan from you. Your hands grasp at the taut sheets, unable to form a grip. Eddie's lips meet your hip, then your thigh, all the way down to your ankle. You wait in anticipation for Eddie's mouth to finally come in contact with your pussy, he's currently hidden under the blanket as he makes the trip back up your other leg. His large hands spread your thighs open slightly, and he slinks toward the place he's been dying to taste this whole time.

He licks a thin stripe from your entrance to your clit, sighing blissfully at the sweet, musky flavor. "Eddie." You groan, trying to keep the volume down. Your nails dig ferociously into the bedding. He's dragging his wet muscle on you at a snail's pace, but it's probably the most intense instance of him eating you out you've ever experienced. You tent your knees, allowing yourself to watch him work on you under the covers. He glances at you when he notices the moonlight gleaming down on him, smiling wide before slipping his tongue inside you to stroke your g-spot. "Oh my god. Keep doing that, Eddie. It's perfect." Your walls flex around him involuntarily, a flash of white-hot pleasure rippling through you.

"Mm." He responds, rubbing against your sweet spot repeatedly. It's a challenge for him to maintain this torturous pace, using all his willpower to not fuck you hard and fast with his mouth and fingers.

"Just like that, love. You're gonna make me cum…so fucking good." His tongue flicks inside you expertly, his nose brushing against your clit as he pushes you over the edge. Your breath catches in your throat, and you keep a loud moan trapped inside your chest once the oxygen returns. Your pussy strangles Eddie's tongue, coating it in your juices. Your legs tremble, threatening to snap themselves shut. He strokes your thighs as you ride out your high, and he drinks up every last drop of your cum as it flows out of you.

"You always taste so sweet, angel. I'll never get enough of you." Eddie says once he pulls his mouth away from your cunt. He crawls back up from beneath the blankets to kiss you passionately. You moan at your arousal on his lips, slipping your tongue in to dance languidly with his. You reach between your bodies, grazing your fingertips along Eddie's stiff cock. He grunts against you, his hips stuttering ever so slightly at the contact. You wrap your hand around his length, carefully stroking him up and down. Your other hand goes to Eddie's cheek, cupping it as you continue to make out with him.

The moves you make on one another flow naturally, almost like you're performing a dance. It's unbelievably sensual. That word in particular floats around your love-drunk head for a moment. Sensual, it's such a mature term. But it perfectly encapsulates this moment you and Eddie are currently entangled in. There's no expectations, no clamoring race to the proverbial finish line. It's just pure love, and affection, and commitment to one another. Your mouths pull apart as you need to breathe, and you're staring deep into Eddie's eyes while you continue to touch him. "I want you inside me, baby. You're the perfect size, and you fill me up so well."

"Damn, sweetheart. That's gotta be the greatest compliment you've ever given me." He quips, drawing comfortable giggles from the two of you. You kiss him again, using your free hand to gently grip his ass to pull him closer to you. You rub the tip of his dick against your folds, spreading your arousal. You share a muted moan, cherishing every passing second like it's your last. Eddie smoothly removes your hand from his length, bringing the head to wait just outside your inviting entrance. "You ready, babydoll?" He asks, gazing down at you affectionately.

"Yes, love." You whisper, nodding in encouragement. He pushes in just as slowly as he's done everything else tonight, hushed groans escaping you of their own volition. Inch by inch, his cock becomes acquainted with every ridge and groove of your insides. But all the other times he's been inside you don't even compare to right now. Sure, fucking one another's brains out is a helluva good time. But, this? This is as absolute of an act of love that any singular human can hope to achieve. You're melding into one singular being, your hearts beating in sync to create the most beautiful music. The kind that all the cheesy love songs are about. The type that poets rhyme about. The sort that the artists paint, sculpt, and craft about. The heart of all things, from the fossils deep in the earth, to the blazing stars in the night sky, lies here within this bed.

"I love you, Y/N." Eddie says, softer than you've ever heard him say it before. A single tear runs down his cheek at how meaningful this moment is. You reach up to wipe it away, smiling warmly at him.

"I love you too, Eddie." You reply, the words just as delicate coming from your own lips. The gorgeous man above you begins to move, pulling out nice and slow, then returning to your warmth.

"Oh, my god." Eddie whimpers, eyes rolling back into his head at how amazing this all is. There's very little force behind his movements, only enough to give you both exquisite pleasure. He repeats the action over and over. It feels unbelievable, you breathe heavily in each other's faces at the intensity. The most dulcet noises flow liberally from your mouths, amplifying every sensation you're experiencing. A light sheen of sweat coats your bodies, and Eddie lowers his head to plant endless kisses to your throat.

"You're amazing, baby. Everything you do is like magic." You sigh, arching your back in coordination with his sedate thrusts. You hold him as close to you as possible, your fingers spread wide across his back.

"Fuck, you feel so good inside, angel. You're so warm, and tight. So beautiful." Eddie says as he continues to worship your neck. He's honestly not sure how long he can last like this. Luckily, your occasional pulses around him signal that you're in the same boat. His hands rest at your hips, helping him to stay upright despite his knees wanting to buckle.

You sense your end nearing again, and it really hasn't taken much at all. Rolling waves of pleasure wash over you, gradually building higher and higher as Eddie continues to move in and out of you. "I'm getting close, Eds. Can you go just a little faster?" You ask so nicely, enjoying every last moment of this.

"Of course, princess. I'm right there with you." He increases his pace ever so slightly, brushing your sweet spot in an even more impeccable way than before. "Shit." Eddie groans, his hips stuttering as his high threatens to take hold.

"Almost there, love. Kiss me while we cum, please?" You plead, needing to feel as much of him as you possibly can. Eddie just nods, his brain devoid of words entirely. His mouth lands clumsily on yours, and he rubs light circles on your clit to bring you down with him. You moan against one another as lightning strikes through your bodies. You give in to sweet surrender, clinging onto any flesh either of you can reach. Your walls squeeze Eddie's cock, and his pelvis bucks into you once while his load fills you up. You whine at the sudden motion, though it's still extremely gentle compared to his usual level of force.

A small amount of your arousal mixes with his, waiting to drip from you once Eddie pulls out. You're still kissing repeatedly as your highs subside, letting out satisfied sighs and muffled 'I love you's when there's a small gap between you. Eddie's dick softens inside you, and you both hiss slightly when he removes himself. Just as predicted, your mixed release flows lazily from your pussy. "Gorgeous." Eddie groans at the sight, leaning down to clean you up with his mouth.

"Fuck, Eddie." You gasp, you thought he was going to grab a towel or something. He's still tender as ever, only licking where it's needed so he won't spoil the wonderful experience you've had tonight.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't wanna leave to get a towel and have Wayne see me naked. Plus, you taste too damn good to waste." He explains, laying down beside you in the afterglow.

"Hey, I'm not complaining! You just took me by surprise. On another note, that was easily the best sex we've ever had." You roll over to look at his glistening face.

"You're damn right! Shit, if I'd known making love could be better than fucking you senseless, I would be doing that every time!" Eddie exclaims, still in an utterly mind-blown state at the magic you made together. You're both in a ridiculously good mood now, forgetting about the monsters entirely. You feel even closer to one another than before, if that's even possible.

"Maybe we should do it this way more often then." You suggest with a grin, giggling as you snuggle up to him. He gladly accepts you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you lovingly.

"You got it, babe. How can I possibly say no to you, hm?" He chuckles, giving you another little kiss. It only lasts a couple seconds before being interrupted by huge yawns. "Well, I think that's our cue to get some rest. I've got a shift at the theater tomorrow, now that I think about it." Eddie checks the time again, it's almost three in the morning. You two really took your time.

"Shit, I totally forgot! I'm sorry, Eds. Now I've kept you up and you're gonna be exhausted tomo一" You apologize profusely, but he cuts you off.

"Y/N, it's fine. It's my responsibility, not yours. 'Kay?" He soothes your unease, stroking your back with the tips of his fingers.

"Okay. Hey, speaking of the theater...do you think your boss would give me a job over the summer? I can always work at the Big Buy if not. But I figured it could be kinda fun to work together." Eddie cocks an eyebrow at you, he had no idea you wanted to work during the summer. He suspects it might have to do with whatever little 'surprise' you've been hiding.

"Um...I can ask him. There's not a ton of work to go around, though. So don't get your hopes up." He sees your face fall slightly, he hates the sight of your disappointment. "But I'll try my best. And I must say I'd love to work with you, I think you'd look damn sexy in that uniform." He reassures you, hoping he can convince the owner, Henry Biggs, to let you join the staff. Mr. Biggs is quite the asshole, and Eddie isn't sure you'll be able to handle working for someone like that.

"Thank you, Eddie. You're the sweetest man in the whole wide world." You say with a sleepy smile. You're finding it very hard to keep your eyes open now, and it appears he's in the same position.

"And you're an even sweeter woman, darling. Let's get some rest, you might just have a job interview tomorrow." He plants one final peck to your lips, bringing your head to rest on his chest. You pull up the blankets, trapping all the welcome warmth against your bundle of limbs. Another minute or so later, and the steady beating of your hearts lulls you two to sleep. There's no more nightmares, and no more convict fathers to be found. Just deep, peaceful slumber.

To be continued...

#fanfiction #hippiegoth97 #smut #stranger things #eddie munson #hawkins #1980s #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you

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thebibutterflyao3 · 1 year ago

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Day 7 - Prompt: Beloved @jegulus-microfic

December Daily Series - 489 words.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Some people were content to observe the world as it circled around them, rather than engage with it. Regulus might be one of those people, but James wasn’t.

The longer he watched Regulus’s controlled, elegant choreography, the more he wanted to try it for himself. James wasn’t particularly graceful, but he was drawn to the rhythmic swish of Regulus’s hips to a beat that he couldn’t hear. When Sirius trailed off to the side of the rink, James redirected toward the centre.

He didn’t want to interrupt him, so he circled closer gradually until Regulus noticed. Once they made eye contact, James sped up and slipped in behind him. He followed Regulus’s lead and did his best to mimic the skater’s steps as they skated backwards in looping circles.

After a few turns, Regulus’s hips stiffened and his entire body tensed. James frowned, thrown off by the shift. He backed off to give the skater more room to move, but it didn’t seem to help.

Suddenly, Regulus skidded harshly on the ice. He swivelled around so fast that James didn’t have time to react and he crashed hard onto his bum. Staring up at the furious glare of Regulus Black made James feel rather small and bug-like.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

James offered an apologetic grin and held out his hand. “Trying your routine. It’s harder than it looks.”

Regulus scoffed, “You’re lucky I didn’t knock you flat for invading my path.”

“I mean, you kind of did.”

“That’s not my fault, you fell.”

James inhaled deeply and tried again. “Look, I’m sorry. I figured you could use a partner and-”

“Pardon?”

He scrunched his face when he heard how that came out. “I didn’t mean that you needed one, of course. Just that if you wanted one, I was available.”

“I skate alone.”

“Oh, alright.” James dropped his hand to his lap when it was clear that Regulus had no intention of helping him. “Got it.”

Regulus pulled his ear buds out and rolled them in his hand like dice. He still looked uncomfortable, and his voice was distinctly annoyed when he whispered, “Stand up. People are staring.”

“Yeah, right.”

James hauled himself upright and brushed off his bum. When he was steady on his skates again, he shoved his hands in his pockets and slid away as casually as possible.

“If you change your mind, I’m still available,” he tossed out with a half-hearted laugh.

The incredulous expression on Regulus’s face was answer enough. Any progress that he thought he’d made earlier was well and truly gone now. He was back at square one. Or, potentially negative one.

“Smooth. Really bloody smooth,” a girl snarked as she skated by, rolling her eyes.

James nodded and headed for the boards. Perhaps Regulus had the right idea after all. He would have been better off observing from afar instead of succumbing to his beloved zeal for action.

Next Part >>>

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #starchaser #jegulus microfic

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maidenimage · 1 month ago

Text

90 minutes

I couldn't sleep, so I got on my computer and edited season 2 down to just the present-day Crowley/Aziraphale scenes, just to see how much time that fills.

The answer is: approximately 145 minutes (or 2 hrs 25 min).

I removed everything that didn't have either of them in it, as well as the minisode flashbacks. Here's how each episode tallies up:

2x01: 0:33:45

2x02: 0:18:58 Job Minisode is an additional 0:25:36

2x03: 0:19:12 Edinburgh Minisode is an additional 0:18:25

2x04: 0:05:36 Nazis Minisode is an additional 0:32:48

2x05: 0:27:19

2x06: 0:40:03 (like basically the entire episode, not much fat to trim here)

Keep in mind that this is not a story edit; meaning there are scenes that I cut out that probably would have been in the season if we were genuinely trying to whittle it down to movie-length but keep the integrity of the story. (This includes scenes such as Muriel bringing the matchbox to Michael and Uriel, Shax in Hell talking to Beelzebub, all the Gabriel/Beelzebub flashbacks in episode 6, etc.) But it's late and I don't have time to do that right now, so this is the rough framework we're working with.

Here's my takeaway:

Can season 3 be sliced and diced into one 90-minute episode/movie? Yeah, probably. Are we going to lose a lot of the heart of the show and the characters in doing so? Definitely. Because in order to edit season 2 down into 90 minutes while still keeping the story in tact, I would probably have to add back some of the non-Aziracrow scenes, and cut the following:

The "Before the beginning" scene with Angel Crowley starting up the universe (which we can all agree would be a devastating loss; but doesn't directly tie to present day)

Most likely, the apology dance (because it's long and isn't strictly speaking necessary, except TO ME ON A SPIRITUAL LEVEL)

Most if not all of the scenes of Aziraphale convincing the various shopkeepers to attend the meeting (which would gut me, but is objectively not necessary to the story)

A great deal of the Maggie/Nina story (would probably keep some of it, but most of it is superfluous)

A lot of the Gabriel/Jim scenes (which are adorable but are there for entertainment, and not story)

A great deal of the Crowley/Jim scene where he confronts him about telling Aziraphale to shut his stupid mouth and die. Parts of this sequence were important, but a lot of it would have been axed/shortened.

The scene of Aziraphale driving the Bentley and Crowley calling him, furious about everything (which would break my heart to lose)

All of the minisode flashbacks (which would be the MOST tragic thing to do to this content, but objectively none of it was needed for the season 2 plot)

All of Shax gathering the demon troops and Eric arguing with her (which, I wouldn't cry about losing, but still shows you the flavor of the show that would be gone)

Other Hell scenes (e.g. Beelzebub and the dung pits demon)

Other Heaven scenes (e.g. Michael and Uriel arguing over duty officer etc)

A great deal of the demons/bookshop battle (to shorten it up/tighten it)

A great deal of Crowley in Heaven investigating Gabriel's trial/disappearance (again just to shorten/tighten, but not lose completely)

And again, this is all stuff that could easily be cut and the story of season 2 would remain the same, but look at how much of what makes this show so great would be lost.

Ultimately, I'm not here to tell you how to feel. I can tell you what I feel, which is outraged and devastated and grieving and ready to storm studios with pitchforks and a frothy mouth. But I recognize that the Terry Pratchett estate went to bat for us in a big way, and we owe them everything we get in this upcoming finale.

I have other thoughts on this whole nonsense, but I'll save that for another post. Just wanted to provide some numbers data for folks who are curious about what could reasonably be done in 90 minutes. Hope this helps in some way.

@goodomensafterdark @fuckyeahgoodomens

#good omens #season 3 #gos3 #good omens s3 #save good omens

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 2 years ago

Text

Expanding on this a little bit because jealous Eddie is fun to write 😋

Summary; Eddie is the only one allowed to call the reader princess, it's like an unspoken rule in Hellfire. Luke comes along and breaks that rule and Eddie is not happy 👀😳

Warnings; Jealous Eddie, slightly possessive Eddie, not canon compliant.

If you enjoyed this then pls consider giving this a like or reblog or maybe both :) 💕😘 I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

Eddie loved when new people expressed interest in Hellfire Club, not many did but a rare few came along.

Luke was the latest new recruit. He had asked Eddie at lunchtime if he could join in on a game of dnd and Eddie had agreed.

Turns out Luke was an excellent player and the game was fantastic. The only thing that needled at Eddie was the way Luke kept looking at you.

Eddie knew you were beautiful, funny, kind and welcomed new recruits with open arms but this shit? Luke gazing at you with a love sick look on his face?

Him making you laugh with shitty ass jokes? Enticing that sweet laugh out of you that Eddie loved so much? That was pissing him off.

Nothing ever distracted him from his DM duties but he felt a twist in his stomach, his heart racing when Luke leaned in too close to you, a visceral punch of jealousy.

The worst thing of all was the unspoken rule of Hellfire. Eddie called you princess and you were his princess.

All of Hellfire knew never to call you that but the minute that Eddie tenderly touched your shoulder and said ''It's your turn princess" that's when things went downhill.

"Hey, princess? Wanna kiss my dice for good luck?" Luke asked you with a smug smile on his face and the whole room went silent.

You cringe and lock eyes with Eddie who is seething and Dustin leans into Luke and explains the rule to him.

"Dude, you can't call her that. Only Eddie" and Like scoffed causing Eddie's jaw to tense.

"It's just a fucking nickname" Eddie glare at him.

"Yeah, it is but it's my nickname for my girl, you get that or are we going to have problems here?" Luke grimaces then quietens and Eddie assumes that's the end of it.

Until the next time, he calls you princess and Eddies patience snaps because the douchebag carries on doing it and looks at Eddie with a huge smirk on his face.

He was goading Eddie now.

That was it Luke was going to die.

💕

Not literally of course but at the next session of dnd Luke's character met a death with no come back, absolutely none.

"Ahh well, bad luck dude" Eddie shrugs while pretending to be devasted for Luke.

That's what you get for not listening dude he says to himself because he would have given Luke another chance if he didn't follow you around like a lost puppy, getting up in your personal space.

The fact you looked uncomfortable didn't seem to register to look and that pissed Eddie even more.

He flirted during class, called you Princess in front of Eddie, and tried to put his arm around you even when you moved closer to Eddie and stuck closer to him.

"Do you want me to say anything?" Eddie asks you concerned and you shake your head.

"He will grow bored when he sees I'm not interested" Eddie doesn't think so, he thinks that this asshole will still keep trying to get with you.

Like hell that will happen.

✨✨

Eddie sighs as you wrap your arms around him and kiss his neck. He's completely content having you in his arms and letting all the things that stress him just fade away.

When he was with you he was at peace. He was happier than ever. Just you two. He strokes your hair and kisses your forehead.

One of his hands tangles in your hair and the other rests on the small of your back pulling you close to him.

Your soft moans fill the air and he loves it, loves that little breathy groan you make when his hands caress your body.

"I love your sweet moans baby. All for me hmm?" you giggle and gaze at him, the same utter reverence that's in his gaze is mirrored in yours.

He doesn't notice Luke gawking at them, he's too entranced by you to notice.

"Get up on the table baby, I wanna taste you" he's craving it, craving you and the feel of you writhing around and coming undone with pleasure.

Then he hears the sound of something crashing and a panicked shit. He whips around and zeroes in on Luke looking sheepish and he glares.

Was this fucker watching you and him the whole time? Fierce protectiveness fills him, though he shouldn't be worried as you could hold your own, Jason Carver found that out.

Even still you were his girl and he was sick of this horny douchebag making eyes at you. Fuck off, she's mine.

Something in Eddie's gaze must register with Luke as he finally seems to get it through his thick skull that you were off limits and scarpered.

Dickhead he snorts and turns back to you waiting for him. Your fingers hook around the waistband of his jeans and you pull him closer.

Suddenly Luke is the farthest thing from his mind.

✨

#eddie munson x reader #jealous eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff

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quitealotofsodapop · 1 year ago

Note

¿Y si Paramita dice la verdad, Venia del futuro? y dijo que ''Hijo de SWK'' ya sabes por las clásicas reglas de reglas líneas del tiempo, Por lo menos el Rey mono tomo esa anécdota como una Borrachera... XDD

translated via google;

"What if Paramita tells the truth, did she come from the future? and he said that ''Son of SWK'' you already know from the classic rules of timeline rules, At least the Monkey King took that anecdote as a Drunkenness... XDD"

I've joked before that King Paramita only calls SWK his "father" because SWK was the cause of his conception, not the DNA provider. They don't actually appear in the story proper. XD

I can imagine PIF and DBK are thinking about trying for kids again, when SWK just busts on in with an armful of artifacts he's been hoarding.

SWK: "Ok... uh. I remembered that since Guanyin is kinda my sworn older sister, I got a few of her vases." PIF, gears turning in her head: "Go on." SWK: "And one she super-duper told me to keep for emergencies after that Scroll of Memory business; is this celestial curse remover. I figure if you or the big guy have any weird curses on you, it could prove useful." PIF & DBK: *both a share a look and nod* PIF: "We'll have the contents examined first before trying anything. We'll report back to you if there's any major developments." SWK: "I completely understand."

A couple of weeks later...

*SWK's phone rings in the middle of the night* SWK, very sleepy: "Hey DBK. Whats u-?" DBK, overjoyed and yelling: "BROTHER IT WAS A MASSIVE SUCCESS!!!" *PIF can be heard sobbing joyfully in the background* SWK: "...wa?" DBK: *hangs up phone without a second word* SWK: "???" Macaque, stirred awake: "Was that in-laws?" SWK: "Uhh... yeah." Macaque: "Did that vase of yours help?" SWK, blinking in realization: "Oh dang. We're gonna be sworn uncles." Macaque, secretly super happy just tired too: "Again, you mean." *falls back to sleep*

Red Son was *very surprised* to learn that they'd be an older sibling, but was nonetheless excited.

This version of Paramita - likely named something else unless Ironbull want to be funny - is born within the next eight months. He's the Demon Bull family's treasure held to the same level as his slightly-older nieces.

#pregnancy tw #the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk ironbull #lmk princess iron fan #lmk pif #lmk demon bull king #lmk dbk #lmk demon bull family #shadowpeach

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nine-of-words · 1 year ago

Text

Something Borrowed (Part Five)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 5134

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup, Drinking (Reader)

This one being a day late may or may not have to do with the fact I've finally started playing bg3...

Today, so far, has been one of those days that everything just feels wrong.

The midsummer wedding rush is in full swing, you’re baking the batters for a wedding cake off in the morning and finishing a different one for pickup each afternoon. And that’s on top of every birthday and pool party and every other sort of occasion under the sun, all demanding sweet, celebratory confections.

“Ugh, I just don’t get it…” Kirby grumbles and snaps the old tome closed, an uncharacteristically gloomy pout on their face. They lean their head on their hand, their palm squishing their cheek.

“Something I can help with?” You’ve told them pretty much everything you think may be pertinent, and happily entertained any of the failed spell purging attempts they’ve tried on you so far, but you still want to assist in any way you can.

“Not really- I’ve had no luck with leads at all. And none of the methods in this book that operate without knowing the origin of the curse look very promising. But there’s, like, definitely a curse here! The vibe in the shop and on you- The energy is there, it feels like it’s yours…but it can’t be from you! You’re a numan!”

“Yeah, imagine how frustrating it is on my end.” You chuckle.

“Ohh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that… No offense!!'

"None taken."

“It’s not your fault at all!” They sigh. “It just… doesn’t make any sense… y’know? I'm like, really good at breaking curses. Even the sneaky ones. It’s kind of my thing. But this one is like, hella hella HELLA sneaky!!!"

“Well, here, try one of these.” Doing what you know best in terms of soothing frayed nerves, you carefully pick up a cupcake from the case- Kirby’s favorite flavor, you've learned- and set it down in front of them. You hear yourself echoing the words your own mother told you growing up countless times: “It won’t fix the problem… but it might help you feel a little better.”

They let out a small, strangled gasp in glee.

“Oooooooh gosh! You're so good to meeee!” The faun takes the cupcake into their hands immediately, holding it like a small treasure. “I’m really going to need to hit the gym after this case, hahah~”

They devour their little treat and seem a bit less bogged down by the weight of your case afterwards, back to their normal peppy self. Helping to lighten their mood at least makes you feel slightly less guilty that your curse is the reason they’re having a hard time in the first place.

Kirby ends up heading out for the weekend not long after, deciding that fresh air and a change of scenery might help jog their investigative thinking.

You find yourself heaving a sigh as you look at the clock,clock, that closing time is creeping ever closer.

It's been so busy you haven't even been able to bake anything for when you see Carlyle later…

You go about the rest of your tasks, a little nervous about the tasting the closer it looms. Devin is pleasant enough, but working for someone you know socially is always a bit of a roll of the dice, unless you really know them well. You can’t imagine her being a problem client, though…

So, what could go wrong?

Nothing, you decide.

This tasting will go well, and even if it’s painful to be reminded of your past for a little bit, your reward for getting through it is getting to go on a date with a wonderful, kind, handsome man later this evening.

Any anxiety about the tasting seemingly disappears as you go through the motions lost in your smitten daydreaming.

Finally, you tidy up a little bit, taking care of what you can of closing while you wait, the table setting for the tasting already set.

Not too long after, Devin appears, all pastels and sunshine.

“Hi, hello there!” She chirps and all but flutters over. When she gets to the table, she grasps your hands and gives them a gentle squeeze with her small, graceful hands, still clearly brimming with joy. “Thanks so much again for fitting us in!!”

“You’re very welcome. Go ahead and take a seat- Oh, and where’s your partner?”

“Pookie will be here in a minute! He’s on his way.” She daintily takes a seat, tucking her ornamental bag in the sill of the window. “He had to stop by the music store before it closed. Lost all his picks again, hehe.”

“Oh, that’s funny.” You snort, reminiscing a little. "My ex used to lose all his picks all the time too, haha."

"It's the worst! I cleaned out one of my old purses once and found twelve at the bottom! Twelve! Then this one time-"

Devin continues to chatter excitedly about anecdotes involving her partner, most of which you relate to with your own stories. It seems you and her have dated similar types of men, for sure.

The conversation is enjoyable enough, but you can't help the strange sense of foreboding weighing on your chest.

"If he'll be here soon, I'll just go ahead and fill these, if you don't mind." You say, motioning to the flutes and the iced bottle of champagne in the bucket. You just want your hands busy to assuage some of the inexplicable nerves. "He'll miss the lovely pop, though."

"Oh, sure, go ahead! I don’t think he’ll mind." Devin assures you with a nod, so you grab the bottle and a cloth napkin.

After neatly removing the foil and the muselet, you cover the cork with the napkin and twist until it goes.

POP-

Devin laughs happily, clapping. The noise drowns out all the sound of the shop door opening, up until the end of the door bell jingle tapering off. A bit of champagne foam drips down the bottleneck and over your palm, then down onto the table.

You look up just in time to see your other guest- your body freezing in place as soon as your eyes fall on them.

You know this person anywhere, down to the tiniest details. A familiar lanky grey elf man; long brown hair tied back in a lazy half-bun, a worn band t-shirt with a flannel wrapped around his waist, and wrists wrapped in braided cord bracelets that move towards calloused fingers.

He looks the same as ever. He was wearing that t-shirt the day you moved out.

It’s Trevor.

You just look at him, speechless. He looks just as shocked- pale as a ghost, and frozen in place just past the threshold of the shop.

There is a loud maelstrom of emotions churning in your chest; you can hear it as blood rushing in your ears. Part of you is just so happy to see him again- but it’s quickly drowned out by months of suffering and grief and anger-

But before you can get so much as a ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ out, Devin speaks up, confirming the worst possible reason to be true.

“There’s my Pookie!”

"Hello." You force out. Finally reacting, you clean up the bottle and take the champagne flute from in front of her, turning your focus on filling it, trying to maintain some facade of normalcy as your heart starts racing.

“Oh… Heeey…” Trevor says awkwardly, seeming to find his ability to speak and move his limbs as he creakily approaches the table.

“What are you doing standing around, silly?” She pats the pink cushion on the seat of the metal chair beside her. “Come sit, you can finally meet my sweet friend!”

He finally takes the seat next to his new fiance, timid and flighty as if you’re going to jump up and sink your teeth into him at any moment. The expression is only made more intense when Devin leans over and gives him a large affectionate peck, the septum ring in her nose smooshing flat against his cheekbone.

“Let me introduce you! So,” She says your name. “This is my fiance, Trevor, and Pookie, this is my friend-”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to…” Trevor cringes slightly at hearing your name.

“Oh… um, do you two already know each other…?” Devin puts a polished finger to her lips, tilting her head quizzically.

“Yeah, Pookie,” You barely manage to keep from spitting the word out like venom. You pick up the second flute to fill it, your fingers pressed forcefully into the stem. “We do, don’t we?”

“Uh. Yeah, Dev. We know each other.” Trevor rubs the back of his head, that little motion of self-soothing that you’re not sure he picked up from you over the years, or vice versa. “We used to date.”

Used to date? That’s it? That’s how he’s going to describe you devoting almost a decade of your life to him, and him tossing it away when you needed his support the most?

You expected to be sad. To be utterly devastated. And while you are certainly feeling heartbroken… You in no way expected this level of indignant anger bubbling in your gut in addition to that stabbing, crushing sadness in your heart.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s so sweet you two can still get along.” Devin says, and you try not to scoff at her absolute failure at reading the room. “If you’re already friends, that makes introducing you a whole lot easier!”

“Yeah. Sooo, uh… You moved the shop and changed its name, huh?” Trevor asks, daring to address you directly for the first time since he meandered in.

The quiet part: This would’ve never had the chance to happen if I knew it was you.

“Yes. It felt necessary at the time.” You say through your clenched jaw, filling your own flute of champagne.

You can’t even look him in the eye while you speak to him. Looking at the familiar hazel of his eyes- it just hurts too much.

“It… looks nice in here, man. I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

Doing okay?? You're most certainly not- or at least you weren't.

Either way, what would he know about it?! Like you haven’t been struggling to crawl out of a deep pit of sadness and self-loathing over the last year… Spending so much time blaming yourself for getting cursed. For not being good enough…

But… at the end of the day, you are a professional. You mentally pull yourself together, remembering your customer service voice and mustering all of your strength to get through this tasting on your raw charisma and goodwill towards Devin alone.

“Thanks.” You say, neutralizing the emotion in your voice to a smooth, pleasant tone. “Let’s get those cake samples out for you to try, aye…?”

You mercifully move away from the table, grabbing the plate of small, delicately cut cake samples from the front cooler. Some of these samples are flavors you always include, while others are ones Devin asked for specifically.

You set the plate down on the table- each neat square of cake accentuated with flower petals.

You watch as they try the cake samples, talking amongst themselves. You provide guidance and offer information when prompted, but you mostly just sit and drink your champagne, trying not to scowl or otherwise provide bad service.

…They're not agreeing on any flavors.

You've been in this business enough to know that's a bad sign. Not that they have completely different preferences itself- that can be worked around, and you've made multiple split cakes, or had people opt for different flavored batches of cupcakes in the past. It’s not uncommon, but it’s the way that the couple comes to that agreement that’s important. It's the way that they're addressing, or in this case, failing to address, those differences of preferences that's the bad sign.

"I like the pistachio creme, oh!- and the apricot curd- but the rose filling is nice too… and the marble cake is so good! All of these are so yummy, how are we supposed to ever choose?" Devin sighs happily, holding up the tiny fork as if trying to defend herself from having to make a decision. She has a point- not being able to pick which cake flavor is better is probably one of the best dilemmas you can think of to have. "What do you think, Pookie?"

“Whatever you want is good, babe.” Trevor bobs his leg under the table in rhythm, the way he does when he's bored. If he wasn't acutely aware of how bad it would look, he'd probably already be scrolling.

Awkwardness aside, he could at least try to act involved… Some things never change, you guess.

“Oh… I don’t know. What do you think?” Devin turns to you with a bright smile, practically wriggling in her seat in child-like excitement. “You’re the expert after all, hehe.”

“Well, I could’ve saved us some time if I had known… He won’t like any of these three- definitely not the marble, he hates chocolate cake.” You lean over and say, pointing to a few of the cake samples. “Regular white’s his favorite, but you probably didn’t like it much. It’s the most popular for weddings, but it's a wee bit boring, if I’m being completely honest. And he’d prefer the Elven berry compote filling with it.”

Trevor looks pale, like he’s going to be sick. He doesn’t protest, though- you already know you’re right.

“Oh! Wow, you’re really amazing!” She says, impressed. “How did you know all that?”

“Dev…” Trevor cringes, but doesn’t say anything more.

“Oh you know." You brush it off with a bitter smile. "Years of experience."

"Hmm…"

"Not to overstep too much," You can feel the champagne starting to influence your commentary just a tad. "If his parents are going to contribute financially to the wedding, they'll probably appreciate something classic, like that combination. They're sort of traditional. Might help you get on their good side."

Devin looks at Trevor, who nods weakly.

As you expected, they end up going with what Trevor (and ultimately his parents) would enjoy, over the less common combo Devin preferred. You can't help but feel a little bad, seeing a lot of your past self in Devin while watching that compromise take place.

You take down the details of the order on your datapad, desperately holding onto your sanity because you're trusting relief is coming soon.

"You'll still come to the wedding, won't you?" Devin asks you, puppy dog eyes already engaged. "I've got the save the date right here-"

She retrieves her bag and digs through it for a little box filled with twee, flowery wedding announcements printed on nicely textured card stock. She hands you one.

"Sure. I'll be there." You say, reflexively placating without giving it much thought.

Ugh, why did you agree to that…? Surely you could've thought up some excuse.

Trevor seems to be having much the same thought as you, brows almost imperceptibly twitching through his sheepish expression.

"Oh, good!" She claps.

A small bit of gleeful small talk and Devin’s profuse gratitude later, they finally leave.

Somehow, you managed to get through the entire tasting without making a scene, no matter how badly you wanted to.

You plop down in the stool behind the counter, not even bothering to lock the front up or turn the sign off.

As soon as you’re sure they’re gone and absolutely won’t be coming back for any reason, you let yourself become undone- bursting into raw, pained sobbing in the silence of the empty shop.

It’s like a knife in your chest, seeing him with something else and doing well, when you’re an absolute wreck, still struggling to pull together the broken pieces of your life.

As much as you’re hurting and never want to see him again, on the other hand, a small, weak, part of yourself still wishes that he would change his mind, come to his senses, show up and ask you to come back. Or that you would wake up one morning and all of this would’ve been a particularly long and excruciating dream…

You know you would take him back in a heartbeat. And it disgusts you.

It’s hopeless. It’s pathetic.

But…

It’s not fair.

That was supposed to be your wedding.

Once you’ve had a good cry and drained most of the remaining bottle of champagne by yourself, you’re staring down at your shop counter, zoning out.

Your eyes drift from the wedding announcement, instead choosing to fall on the vased bouquet of flowers still sitting nearby. They’re doing well still, not wilting yet at all. You've been taking good care of them.

You're hit with the sudden, shattering recall of the fact you have a date in less than half an hour.

Carlyle!

You jump up from your seat, then are forced to sit back down at once as your world spins nauseatingly.

… There’s no way you can let him see you like this.

You pull out your device, and desperately hammer out an admittedly sloppy message.

< Canb we rain check? Had a v bad dday today

You decide that will suffice and take another long glug from your champagne flute- the last of the bottle.

Carlyle, bless him, is punctual as ever, and responds to your message with concern before you’ve even put the glass back down on the counter. You would’ve noticed this if you weren’t completely lost in your own spiraling thoughts.

When you finally wipe your bleary eyes on the inner elbow of your button up to get a more clear picture of your device’s screen, you see a bundle of messages waiting. He must really be worried, because it's not in his nature to send multiple messages without waiting for a response first.

> Already on the train to the restaurant

> Are you okay?

> I'll change lines

> Be there in a few

“Dammit,” You swear, hanging your head in your spread palm, staring down the screen.

Great. Perfect.

You tried to spare him the sight of you, and managed to summon him here instead.

Not only did you have to see stupid Trevor today and agree to make his stupid wedding cake for his stupid wedding with someone new, but now the amazing man that has somehow managed to show interest in you is going to see what an absolute trainwreck you actually are.

You didn't even bake him anything!

…You really are cursed.

And maybe you're to blame…

You’re stuck in that same loop of catastrophic thinking until the bell chimes, taunting, above the front door that you couldn’t be bothered to lock earlier.

“Hey.”

It's hard to stay devastated when you see Carlyle walk through the door, wearing a subtle, well-concealed look of concern that you may not even have noticed if you were less familiar with him.

"Sorry." You say in exasperation, voice hoarse, trying not to burst into tears again. "I'm fuckin' tossed."

He takes that as his cue to approach the counter.

"Hah- It’s fine." He glances around at the half-closed state of the shop with raised eyebrows, then back to you. "Bad day, huh?"

"Awful. Terrible. Dogshite."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No!" You whine, and then immediately launch into talking about it. You explain the awful day you’ve had even before the event, and he listens attentively.

"And it was fuckin' Trevor of all people, because of course it was-" You seethe. "One of my clients is marrying my bloody ex! Of all the people in this city!"

Carlyle nods to confirm he's listening, so you take that as the go ahead to just spill everything.

"You should have seeeeen them- He hasn't changed at all. He still leaves his stupid guitar picks everywhere! And he sucks at guitar. He was always better at drums. And she just coddled him n’ doted on him n’ babied him the whole time. Just like I always did- He didn't deserve it then, he sure doesn't deserve it now!"

"I knew he was going to pick the vanilla sponge and the berry filling. I knew it! He is so predictable. You know she picked the marbled sponge and the pistachio cream? There is no way they're going to work out. I make a lot of wedding cakes, Carlyle! Those flavors don't work together!"

"And she calls him Pookie." You gag.

At some point during your rant, he removed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves and sat down on one of the metal stools across the counter from you. A glass of water has appeared within arms reach, and you didn’t even notice him going to find the sink.

"You should drink some of this." He taps a dull, stony claw against the trim of the glass. "You'll feel better."

"Ah, bless." You gratefully sip at the liquid, only now realizing how parched you were.

"Sounds like you've had quite the day indeed. At least it’s over?” Carlyle tries to reason.

“I agreed to make their wedding cake. AND go to the bloody wedding.”

“Spirits.” Carlyle laughs softly, cringing and rubbing his neck with his palm. "You could always say something came up."

"Yeah, but my… Client? Friend? Client-Friend? Devin- she’s lovely. Absolute sweetheart. She was so excited to invite me and… I just don't want to hurt her feelings."

“Oh. That is pretty rough.”

“Right? It’s downright tragic, is what it is!" You find yourself quickly becoming all giggles and giddy bubbles."That's why I'm such a mess- well no, I won’t lie, I'm a mess anyway- but tonight I am a HUGE one. We were supposed to be on a date right now, but instead you're here listening to me blubber and winge on about my ex."

"Believe it or not, I've actually been enjoying listening to you. Moreseo than I already do." He smiles at you warmly, fingers flexing where they're laced together on the countertop.

"An' why's that?" You ask, putting on your best attempt at a flirty tone, given your state. You’re convinced you’ve nailed it.

"For one, your accent seems to be stronger when you're intoxicated. It may not be the most appropriate time to mention it, maybe… but it's too cute to not point it out."

You laugh giddily, suddenly filled with a surge of confidence.

"Cute, eh?"

"Very." He affirms, obviously genuine through his amusement.

Your face flushes, and you beam with glee.

"...You wouldn't like me better with a twee septum piercing?"

"That's awfully specific…" Carlyle taps his fingers on the countertop in thought, a soft clicking of stoneskin on marble. "I suppose if you wanted one, it's your choice and I can't really complain… It isn't something I would personally find aesthetically pleasing. …Though I could get used to it…"

You crack into laughter, giggling until you're wheezing and dabbing at the tears in your eyes.

"Oh… that's such good news, hahah…"

"Right. …Maybe it's for the best that we get you upstairs?" Carlyle rises, then comes around to your side of the counter, where he idles beside you.

"Oh? You want to leave so soon?" Your hands find his tie, gently but clumsily fiddling with it between your fingers. "But I'm really enjoying your company."

"You can enjoy my company whenever you like." Carlyle smirks. He does not stop you from playing with his tie. "But for now, you could probably use the rest. Allow me to help you upstairs."

You pout, giving the striped pink fabric a few gentle tugs, but he has a point. You are so exhausted and drained from the day already and now with the intoxication on top of it- you're barely holding yourself upright.

"I don't think I need much h-" Shifting your weight to get down off the stool, you fail to find your balance and stumble. The stool clatters and wobbles behind you, and your hands fly out, grabbing at his shoulders.

But a set of firm hands is there on your sides to keep you from collapsing into a puddle on the floor.

"Careful."

You laugh breathlessly, and let your full weight rest against his form in relief. You let your hands twine at the base of his neck and sigh, relaxing against him.

"Okay. So. Maybe I do need a tick of help."

"Just a bit. But everybody needs a bit, sometimes."

You scoff appreciatively.

"You are so nice to me and so handsome and you make me smile so much." You start gushing words with your face pressed to his solid stone chest, lacking any filter or shame at this point. You're so happy your heart could burst- in stark contrast to the absolute emotional pit you were just languishing in earlier. "Kirby said that's a low bar, but nobody makes me smile like you do. I like it- it feels good to really smile again."

"Hahah, you're flattering me here. …But I'm pleased you feel that way." Carlyle says, seemingly not in a hurry to escape your hug. You can hear the hollow rumble of his laughter in his chest through the thin cloth of the button-up, with your ear flush against him like this. "I would be remiss to not admit I feel similarly.”

You’re too happy for words. For a brief moment, nothing else matters.

“...You probably don't want to sleep in this."

You feel his hands migrate back around your waist, delicately picking the knot of your apron loose with his claw tips.

Despite your strong desire to cling onto him indefinitely, he eventually helps you put your weight on your own feet again. Then, after you've worked together to remove your soiled apron, you wobble towards the stairs, guardian gargoyle in tow.

"Those stairs are a hazard for someone in your condition. So I'll be right behind you. If that’s okay?"

"Yes." You mutter in agreement.

You feel a heavy, reassuring hand place itself on the center of your back, keeping you steady as you climb the narrow stairs up to your loft.

Somehow, you manage to crest the stairs without incident.

"Nice little place.Very stylish, but not too visually loud." Carlyle says as he looks around the space, hand still lingering on your back as you stumble towards your bedroom. "It suits you."

"Oh, you're just so sweet…"

You cross the threshold into your room, the full weight of the day starting to bear down on you. You plop down on the edge of your bed, completely spent, and kick your shoes off.

"Ugh, I can't sleep in these, they're covered in flour." You gripe and gesture to your work clothes, not wanting to get up as soon as you’ve sat down. "I'll get my bed sheets fully dusted… But I don't think I have it in me to stand."

"Not to be too forward, but I can assist. If you feel comfortable with it."

"You're keen on stripping poor defenseless me down?" You tease.

"I meant I could retrieve some sleepwear for you." His dark eyes clearly fix on where your hands are working off your shirt buttons, obvious to you even when the alcohol has dulled your awareness. "Nothing untoward."

"I would like that." You continue to unbutton, a smirk settling on your face. "Or I could go without completely…"

Carlyle's lip twitches into a wicked smile too, but he quickly turns around and disappears past the hanging pink curtain, into your small walk-in closet.

"So. …In here, then?"

"First drawer on the left." You call.

He returns by the time you've partially removed your shirt. It's proving more difficult than expected, and you've somehow got yourself tangled in the process of pulling it off. Clearly a failing in the design of the shirt, and not a reflection of your ability.

Carlyle sets the folded set of pajamas next to you and stands for a moment, assessing the damage caused by leaving you alone for a moment.

"Hahah, here." He pulls it the rest of the way off. You can't help but appreciate the sight of his exposed forearms flexing to maneuver the twisted fabric free from your body. It makes your heart start to race.

"I thought it might end up like this- I was hoping," You look up at him with slightly glazed eyes and say, with what you are absolutely sure is a very sultry, alluring tone. "Tonight was supposed to be a date, after all."

"Hmm."

Your hands reach out, brushing against the edge of his leather belt.

"Don't you want me?" The words tumble out before you can stop them.

"...I do." Carlyle smiles warmly at you, letting out a breath he was seemingly holding. "But not like this."

"Probably for the best." You laugh in agreement, not even offended- you're far too pleased to have that confirmation to be upset. "Thought it was worth a shot."

Carlyle proceeds to help you change the rest of your clothes, mostly acting as a glorified handrail, as he stands firmly in place with his eyes averted.

Eventually you're fully reclothed, and let yourself fall back against the mattress.

"On your side, please-" Carlyle instructs, holding your bedding up while waiting for you to settle.

"Look at you, in here tuckin' me in and everything. You're such a stand up fella."

Carlyle doesn't say anything, just laughing and shaking his head, slender dreadlocks swaying as he pulls the quilted comforter up over you.

"...You're not mad, are you? I'm sorry, I went and mucked things up tonight."

"No, I'm not. It’s no trouble." He leans over with one knee resting on the mattress, constructing a wall of the available pillows on your bed against your back. "Things are still fully unmuckable. We can always reschedule."

You're so giddy, you can't stop yourself, and your hands reach up to affectionately touch either side of Carlyle's face where he hovers over you.

His cheeks are hard underneath your fingertips, like a marble baking table surface before it’s been dusted with flour. But instead of being cold stone like you expected, they're pleasantly warm and soft to the touch. The porous, sculpted surface of them feels good on your skin.

"You… You marvelous man. You still wanna take me out?" You whisper hoarsely. You'd jolt up and kiss him right here if you had any energy left. "After all this?"

"Yes." He finishes securing the pillows to his satisfaction, patient enough to allow you to continue drunkenly cradling his face.

You chuckle, and manage to raise yourself up, just enough to press your pursed lips square in the middle of his stony forehead in a quick, affectionate peck. Then, you release your hold on him and settle back down, snuggling into the bedding.

"Goodnight, Carlyle." You say, already starting to fade off to the sound of him quietly humming in amusement and shifting his weight off the bed.

"Goodnight."

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mxm #mlm #male monster #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

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aemondslefteyeball · 1 year ago

Text

In the Flat Field (2)

[Future!Aemond x Fem!Reader]

[Warnings: Limited sexual content, violence, car crash, implied death]

[Summary: The Reader and Aemond find themselves in unfamiliar territory, with limited knowledge and a healthy amount of angst.]

Word Count: 9K

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Mirrors multi-reflecting this

Blistering waves of heat rose from white pavement. A yellow star shone high in the sky, oriented in the northeast. It was still morning, yet sunlight scorched every exposed surface of your body. Cars barreled down pothole-filled streets, errant honks filling the air. Across the block a dead cactus sagged under its own weight. Curses and screeching of brakes filled the sweltering air, but it was a comfort to know that everybody seemed to feel as cranky as you did right now. Aemond stood beside you, looking annoyed. He panned his gaze out to the street, while you turned around. Behind you, a large building stood. Panels of metal and glass reflected the light, with a symbol resting at the upper right corner of the building. ‘ASU’ It read, with no other indication. “What do you think it is?” You took a step back, your hand coming to rest against a large metal pole before recoiling at the heat. People appeared to be in the buildings, walking around, congregating in rooms. They were mostly younger looking. “An academy?” You questioned out loud. Raising your wrist, you scanned the structure quickly. With any luck your watch would be able to send an emergency beacon to the Guild with the coordinates of this planet. You let out a sigh when the error ping sounded. “No dice on the distress signal.” It was then he grabbed your arm, turning you so that you faced what had captured his attention so thoroughly. You turned to see Aemond’s face. Except that it wasn’t his face. The man on the billboard had short, quaffed hair and a reptilian smile. An immediate unease gripped you as you looked at Aemond– your Aemond– in shock. “Uhh…” You sucked air in through your teeth before shaking your head. “Yeah no, sorry I got nothing. The academy did not prepare us for this level of mindfucking.”

Aemond snorted, shooting you a terse glance. “You say that like it’s your face up there.” He shook his head distastefully, his fingers coming to brush up against the Valyrian steel melded into his face. Your gaze shifted back to the Aemond on the poster, a black eyepatch rested on his left eye. You laced your fingers into his, squeezing his hand gently. When you first met him you– like most other people– assumed that he got his cybernetic implant as an upgrade. A rich boy who wanted a permanent status symbol stitched into his body. The truth was much darker, but he had only told you once when he was so drunk he couldn’t walk. Unsure if he remembered telling you, or would be horrified you found out you pretended it didn’t happen. Pretended that you knew he got the implant when he was ten, but not that it was because his nephew shot him with a phaser.

You wondered what happened to the billboard Aemond, and brought your thumb to rub against his hand. Aemond for the most part looked uneasy, a sneer pulled across his aquiline features. “Hey, at least you know that haircut wouldn't suit you.” Your tone was unsteady as you joked but Aemond’s expression didn’t shift and he kept staring at the billboard. Targaryen: To keep us on track for a brighter tomorrow #Reelect2028. A strange flash of light emerged from your peripheral vision, and you instinctively put your hand up to shield your face from it. Some person held a small rectangle in their hands, pointing it at you while they talked adamantly. When Aemond noticed the same thing you did, he turned on his heels and stormed away. You were dragged along beside him, awkwardly working to meet his lengthy stride. “Okay I understand we need to get out of eyesight.” You half jogged to keep up with him. “Please try to remember that you’re a fuck of a lot taller than me.”

“Sorry.” His pace slowed to a much more manageable level and you shot him a small smile. “We need to find something to cover my face.” His tone was flat, dark. What was a convenience in your world, could be a scarlet letter here. Nodding, the two of you stepped into a building for a moment and pulled your backpacks off. Aemond peeled the leather jacket off himself and replaced it with a simple black hoodie, pulling the hood as far over his face as he could. You on the other hand stripped off a few layers, grateful for your tank top amidst the blistering heat. Folding the items of discarded clothing and shoving them into the bag, you dug around for the small red box. After pulling it out, you held it up towards Aemond. He nodded and the two of you made your way down the hallway. A chemical smell filled the air of the hallway as the two of you continued on. Between the smell of exhaust, tile cleaner, and the brutal heat your head was starting to throb. The two of you stepped foot into the library, fluorescent lights cast boorishly across the room. Despite the situation, a smile was pulled across your face as your eyelids shut. The scent of old books hung sweetly in the air, the wooden rows stacked from one vast wall to the next. “You’re adorable.” Aemond chuckled, pulling you out of your memories.

Your eyes rolled in response, smile refusing to budge from your face as you neared a door. You raised your hands over your brow to block out the glare and tutted approvingly when you saw it was empty. “This looks like the perfect one.” Your hands fell and the reflection of Aemond’s face greeted you in the glass.

You reached for the knob but Aemond beat you to it, opening it before inserting his body between yourself and the doorway. “Not on your life.” He insisted, giggles erupting from you as Aemond held the door open.

“I love when you maliciously do nice things for me.” Aemond chuckled as you stepped towards the table propped off to one wall. Setting your bag on top of it, you pulled out the currency generator and hesitated over the controls. The star on this planet rose from the east, the natives appeared human, and you had yet to see any magic. Your hand rose to rest against your chin, knuckles brushing against the crease of your lips. Bringing your gaze up to meet Aemond’s, you glanced back down at the machine. “Earth?”

Aemond considered for a second, a blue light flashing from the left side of his face before it blinked yellow twice. “Print out some of Meutian bills as well.” He concluded. While you leaned over the table inputting the data into the generator Aemond’s footsteps shuffled off behind you. “You alright?” When you glanced back at the blonde his hand dropped from his face suddenly. Clearly having witnessed something better left alone, you let out a dry chuckle. “Seven hells, Aem, still picking your nose?”

You were met with a weary look in response, Aemond coming to lean against the wall. “I’m trying to think of how to get the hell out of here.” His gaze landed on the wall to your right, feigning indifference. Ah. The billboard.

You shot him a reassuring smile, lifting yourself onto the table to sit and crossing one leg under yourself. “Well, if things keep going how they have been we won’t need to worry about finding a way out of here.”

“I don’t think that’s as reassuring as you think it is, Y/N.”

“No, but it is the only thing we really have to go on.” Your head shook for a moment, your hand raising. “I mean, yeah. Shit is really scary right now. But where’s your sense of adventure? Nobody else that we know of has had the oppor-”

“We don’t know if that’s a good thing, Y/N.” Aemond barked out, a guilty look immediately softening his face afterwards. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” His right hand came to rub against his temple.

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright.” Your eyes met as you offered a small smile. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was dismissing you.” As hard as you were trying to find the silver lining, you could barely make sense of your ass from your elbow. “Is it him?” You blurted out before being able to stop yourself.

“No.” Aemond’s flat response whipped out as soon as you had finished speaking. A lie, but you knew Aemond was as academically intelligent as he was emotionally unintelligent. You nodded, considering for a second before a ping interrupted the silence between you two. You made quick work of pocketing the bills before refolding the generator and placing it back into your backpack. Zipping up the rucksack, you tossed it over one shoulder and smiled at Aemond.

Aemond shut the door behind the two of you and you ventured back out into the library. You stuck to the walls of the cavernous room, passing through rows of books before the two of you came to rows with a bunch of boxes in it. You immediately diverted from your path, beelining towards it. Picking up one of the boxes, you turned it over in your hands. It was made of plastic, with a portrait of a dancer covered in blood on it. “What do you think it is?”

“Something we can worry about after we get out of here.”

You rolled your eyes in response, glancing over it a second longer. “Suspira? Suspiria? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a book like this.” Aemond audibly sighed and you placed the box back onto the shelf before putting both hands up in a ‘fine’ gesture and following him. The two of you walked throughout the silence of the library, before intermittent gurgling from Aemond’s stomach interrupted.

After the third straight grumble, you couldn’t help but giggle. Aemond shot you another bored look, and a man paging through a book shot the two of you a dirty look. Now past the boxes, the two of you came to your personal paradise. Rows of vinyl records were stacked taller than Aemond, and a smile pulled across your face at the sight of it.

“Really?” Aemond grumbled while plodding behind you towards the rows.

“D…D…D… Can you help me find the D’s?” You were met with silence before turning back towards Aemond. One silver brow was raised, an amused smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“All you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you glanced at the ground.

“I think it’s the next row down.” He murmured. You nodded before stepping into the next row, tracing your finger along the rows until finally getting to the D section.

“Da, Da, c’mon Da pull through for me.” You muttered out loud. Aemond chuckled softly and leaned over you to grab a record off the shelf. A wide grin split across your face at the sight of the record. STATIONTOSTATION was printed across the top in red, and you dropped to your knees. Unzipping your backpack, you snatched the record from Aemond’s hand and put it into the bag.

“Really?” His eyebrow quirked.

“Fuck you, you got a sextant.”

“Fair enough.” His stomach grumbled yet again as you smirked at him.

“Let’s stop and get something to eat.”

Aemond shot you a hard look. “I can wait until we’re back.”

“Back where?” The silence hung between you two for a moment. Another reminder of the clusterfuck you’d been thrown into. The only sounds in the library were your boots shuffling on the carpet, and the errant clicking of computer keys. Your knuckles brushed against Aemond’s for a moment before he moved them. Swallowing your disappointment, you raised a hand to fiddle with your watch. You set it to analyze the data you had gathered about the building. Your finger hovered over the file you had recorded in the creepy room, unease rising in you before you submitted it to be run through the translator. Lowering it back down, you kept your gaze planted solely ahead of you, not wanting to give any indication that you cared about him brushing your hand off. It was stupid anyways, you had wasted over a decade of your life pining after somebody who just didn’t feel the same way about you. No matter how hard you had tried to move on, how much distance you tried to put between your platonic and romantic life, he hung over it. Over you. A bloodless form of self harm, but self harm all the same. The brick walls opened up into a little cafe, a single student waiting for their order at the counter. You glanced back towards Aemond, who sighed as he gave in to the grumbling of his stomach.

After the two of you ordered you sat down at a little table next to the window. Rust-colored mountains rolled off into the distance, palm trees lining streets that were shimmering with lines of heat. Aemond waited at the counter for your guys’ order and you pulled up the screen on your watch. Glancing around quickly to make sure there was nobody else at the tables, you pulled up the hologram before leaning over the table so as to hide it. Taking a deep breath, you pressed play on the dreaded file. ‘Advances are not made by gradation, such as can be represented by motion in a straight line; but rather by ascension of state…’ Well that was… strange. But there were certainly more ominous things to hear from a creepy mist filled bottle than somebody’s soapbox about physics. You glanced up to see Aemond arriving with the food, and you shot a grateful smile up towards him. “Ugh, you’re a star.” You lifted your coffee towards him in a cheers gesture, taking a sip. It tasted burnt but that was of little importance to you. It was a chance to catch your breath. After the two of you had eaten a little, you set your croissant down on the paper wrapper. “How should we get out of here?”

Aemond had been looking out the window, lost in thought before he snapped to meet your gaze. “Everywhere it’s…changed… there hasn’t been anybody but us.” His jaw set briefly, before he continued. “If we get away from all the people we might at least go back to the house. From there we can get back to Vhagar.” You nodded. It relied on a lot of what-if’s, but it wasn’t like you had anything better to suggest. His implant flickered yellow twice. Aemond’s gaze shifted over towards the tail end of the cafe, where the barista was following a customer. Your gaze lingered on the implant for a second before he looked back at you and you shrugged in response.

“Sounds like a solid plan to me.” A lie, but one that he needed to hear. You took a bite of your croissant, savoring it for a moment before swallowing. This planet’s coffee sucked, but at least they knew their way around a pastry. Aemond smiled at you and you tried unsuccessfully to shove down the fluttering in your stomach. Over a decade and you still couldn’t grow up and accept his feelings for you were solely platonic.

Avoiding the rising discomfort within you, words erupted before you could think. “Do you think there’s another Y/N here?” You shot Aemond a nervous smile but to your comfort he let out a small chuckle.

“Yes, you’re probably my VP.”

“Oh, right.” You let out a dry laugh. “That’s how we know this isn’t our world.” You teased, taking another sip of your coffee. Behind you glass shattered, panning across the tables and onto the floors. Your arms instinctively shot up to cover your head before you looked over at Aemond, who returned your look of shock. You glanced over at the object that had been thrown through the window and brought your tank top to cover your mouth and nose at the sight of the gas released from it. Every instinct screamed at you to run but you found your body growing heavier by the second. Within moments lifting your eyelids became a herculean gesture and the last thing you registered was the sensation of the croissant against your cheek.

Harsh yellow lights peeked in through your eyelids as they sleepily fluttered open. Your stomach was turning and you felt as if your eyeballs were going to burst out of your head. Wincing, you reached to rub your eyes before finding yourself blocked from the measure. Looking down, you groggily shook at the restraint on your wrist before squeezing your eyes shut a few seconds longer. “Are you feeling alright, love?” Aemond’s voice cooed out from in front of you.

You shook your head no, eyes still shut as you tried to will away the pounding in your head. “‘Headache from the hells.” You croaked out, voice hoarse as you started to blink. “Where are we? Who restrained us?” You mumbled, pulling your right hand against the restraint as you looked down at the leather cuff holding your wrist in place.

“We uhm.” Aemond gathered himself as you hazily tried the left hand. “We know this is probably all very confusing and wanted to make sure that you didn’t hurt yourself.”

“What?” You muttered, your gaze rising to meet Aemond’s, your stomach dropping when your line of sight came to rest on a black eyepatch sitting over his left eye. You leaned back in your seat, unsuccessfully putting distance between yourself and the strangely familiar man who stood before you. “Where’s Aemond?” You questioned, eyebrows knit together as you tried willed yourself to disappear through the seat cushion. If there was ever a time for shit to shift.

The Aemond before you let out a soft chuckle, a loving smile etched onto his face as he reached a hand out to cup your cheek. You flinched away from his touch but were unable to move far in the chair. Aemond tutted and brought his hand to your cheek once more. “I’m here, love.”

Okay. He had some weird… affection for you. You could work with that. “Where’s the other Aemond?” You mumbled, coming to your senses more but feigning confusion. You didn’t shy away from his touch now, but didn’t lean into it either, simply did your best to shoot him sleepy doe eyes.

“You don’t need to worry about him love.” Aemond cooed, leaning down to press a soft kiss onto your forehead. He inhaled sharply, lingering for a moment. “You have no idea how hard I’ve prayed to see you.” His voice cracked as he spoke, lips hovering inches over your forehead.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you froze. You waited a moment to collect yourself. “Thank the Gods.” You pulled your lips back over your teeth, looking away before looking at every corner of the room. “He was a bounty hunter.” Make him feel like he’s saving you.

Aemond’s fist clenched as he took a step back, a hard expression drawn across his face as he shook his head. “I saw the livestream from that boy.” He spat. “I saw the way he was dragging you into the college.” Huh, so that’s what that was. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he inhaled deeply before looking away. “I don’t know how or why you’re here, but there’s no chance I’m letting you go again.” His voice cracked, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could hear the tears in his voice. “I need you. We need you.”

“We?” You asked, your brows knit together but a pleasant expression still glued onto your face. Aemond turned back to face you, eye brimmed red but his expression turned back to neutrality.

“It’s better if I show you.” Aemond leaned over to unlock the restraint, following it up with the next. He gingerly examined your wrists, pressing a gentle kiss to it before reaching out a hand to help you to your feet. After doing so, he placed a hand on your waist gently, guiding you towards the door. Of course. You mused. Just my luck that the Aemond who wants me is the one who takes me fucking captive. The two of you were guided through a large building, guards stopping to give Aemond an intermittent “Mr. President.” Shocked glances landed in your direction enough to make you feel uneasy.

“What happened to me?” You blurted out. Everybody’s reaction so far could only mean one thing. His crying, the looks.

“Car crash.” He said, swallowing hard as he looked down at his feet momentarily. “Your brother had just gotten divorced from Maya.” My brother is gay as the day is long. “The two of you were taking your niece and nephews sledding but a pickup spun out into you.” Alex hates children.

“I’m sorry.” You said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “That had to have been horrible for you.” Not a reason to take me hostage, but that does sound awful.

“The girls took it a lot harder.” You stopped in the hall for a moment, unsure if you heard him right.

“Girls?”

“We have two daughters.” So that’s what this was. You were here to be the replacement wife and mother. Even in the world where Aemond loved you, you were the silver medal.

“Uhh…” You laughed nervously, still trying to keep a polite smile on your face. “I’ve never had any children.”

“Their names are Lyra and Daella.”

“Aemond I think I would remember splitting my vagina open spawning a human being two separate times.” Aemond looked down for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head.

“Yet you still have such a way with words.” This time it was your turn to chuckle, and Aemond resumed walking. The halls were lined with portraits of what you could only assume were previous presidents, with Aemond’s father being visible down the hall.

“Ew what the fuck you guys elected him?” Aemond laughed as soon as you finished your sentence. “Well at least there are some constants.” You mused out loud. “It seems your Dad is an asshole in all worlds.”

“Not much better can be said for your Dad though.” He mused as you raised a brow.

“Maybe this version of my Dad was, but my Dad is fucking awesome. We threw potassium in a retention pond before I left for Juliet Quadrant.” Aemond paused for a moment before shaking his head and saying nothing in response.

The cherry wood clicked under your boots, and the two of you came to stop before a large burgundy door. Aemond stopped and looked at you before reaching for the knob. “Are you ready?”

You paused a moment, taking a deep breath in through your nose before nodding. When the door opened you were greeted by the sight of one blonde little girl playing with a tablet on the couch. Another sat at a table at the other side of the room, head buried in a book. The one at the table seemed entirely uninterested in the door opening, flipping the page of her book. Yup. That was definitely Aemond’s daughter. The little girl on the couch took notice of you first, her eyes wide as she dropped her ipad. “Mommy?” She yelled out. The little girl tossed the tablet carelessly off to the side and you winced as it clattered against a snowglobe. The girl rushed towards you, wrapping her arms around your legs as tightly as her little arms could. The girl at the table snapped her head to you as soon as the younger one rushed over but she regarded you with a warier eye. She was the spitting image of Aemond, with her long silver hair and piercing gaze.

“How are you our Mom?” She asked, picking at her thumbs as she shifted back in her chair. “Our Mom died.”

The little girl clutching onto your legs giggled. “It was my birthday wish.” She insisted. “My birthday was three months ago…” The little girl lifted three fingers. “That’s this many.” While you nodded and beamed at her. “And I wished that you would come back.” She rambled, her little arms coming to wrap back around your legs. “And Daddy said that if I didn’t tell anybody my wish would come true.” The little girl looked up at you, her lilac eyes massive in her skull. Her face was framed by a halo of soft curls, a cherubic sweetness etched into her pudgy cheeks. “And so I didn’t tell Lyra even though I really wanted to.” She insisted. You idly brushed curls out of her face before Aemond cleared his throat.

“Girls, I’m sure your mother is very tired.” He stated, giving them the Dad tone. The little girl– Daella– squeezed your legs once more before she grabbed her tablet and followed her older sister out of the room. Lyra shot a furtive glance at you before they shut the door and you were alone once more with Aemond. Your hand came to rest on your neck as you held onto your elbow with the other. “What’s wrong?” Aemond asked. Oh, nothing aside from you casually holding me hostage.

“It’s the bounty hunter.” You lied. “I’m just scared he’ll get out…”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” Aemond insisted, “We have him locked up.”

“He’s a cyborg, how do you know he won’t escape?”

Aemond sighed as he shook his head. “He’s locked up in our basement level, there’s extra security, and next to nobody has access to the room.” He stepped behind you and pulled you flush against his chest, his arm wrapping around you. “Stop worrying about it.” He murmured into your hair, pulling his arms tighter across you. “Just enjoy the moment.” He muttered, his hand dropping to lightly graze over your torso. He paused at your navel, watching to gauge your reaction. You inhaled deeply. The only way out was through, and you had to get his guard down. You nodded as you leaned into his touch. Aemond brought his other hand to undo the button on your jeans and pulled the zipper down. Your heart raced but your gut twisted with guilt.

“Wait.” You muttered as he cupped you over your panties, applying just enough pressure to make you second guess your decision. “I want you now.” You covered, shooting him a lustful gaze. “The couch, please.”

Aemond snickered but pulled his hand away and started moving towards the sofa. “Patience has never been a strong suit of yours.”

“Not when it comes to you.” You said with a sultry grin, moving to straddle him on the couch. Your lips clashed seconds afterwards, the taste of bourbon and cigarettes on Aemond’s lips. His teeth bit into your bottom lip and you moaned, pulling back to undo his belt. After it was unlatched and you undid the button Aemond closed his eye and leaned his head back. As soon as he did that you grabbed the snowglobe and cracked it as hard as you could against Aemond’s head.

Once he was out you checked his pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when it was still going steady. Standing up, you redid your zipper and searched Aemond’s pockets. Upon finding them you picked the globe back up before walking to the door and taking a deep breath. Exhaling, you pressed the button on the intercom. “He said he needs to see you, like. Right now.” You waited for the rattling of the doorknob. When the guard stepped just into the room you brought the globe down onto the back of his head. As soon as he went down you grabbed the gun from his holster. Standing back up, you watched for the rising and falling of his chest before setting the globe down on the ground, grabbing your backpack and shutting the door behind you. You walked down the hall as casually as possible, acting as if you were any other person on a tour. As you neared an elevator you were grateful for the lack of people boarding with you. When it finally dinged, a decrepit old man stepped off and shot you a leer that made your skin crawl. Stepping onto it, you selected the button for the basement before the elevator made an error noise. Trying it once more, you cursed before pulling the keys out. Finding one that looked small enough, you inserted it into an unmarked keyhole and tried pressing the B button again. This time the light around the button lit up blue and you descended to the basement level. You held your breath after the doors opened, almost expecting to be greeted by armed guards. When none were immediately visible you let a breath out. You weren’t out of the woods yet though. Harsh fluorescent lighting cast the hall in a strange yellow glow, and you followed the left hand path towards the cells. Footsteps rang out from across the hall and you immediately ducked behind an alcove, waiting until the footsteps were well out of earshot and ducking your head out to check if it was all clear. Seeing that it was, you smiled softly before heading back towards the cells. You sped down the hall, analyzing the face of every prisoner. It seemed every type of person was in here, except the one that you were actually looking for. Two voices rang out in the distance and you cursed. Pulling a wad of bills out of your pocket, you shoved it into the hand of the prisoner closest to you. Pressing a finger up to your lips, you ducked into the supply closet. Your heart pounded in your ears as the footsteps grew ever closer and you clapped a hand over your mouth and nose to try and cover as much sound as humanly possible. You waited for the prisoner to shout out, fearing the betrayal was inevitable. To your shock the sound of voices started to grow more distant, until it was out of range. Listening for another few seconds, you gingerly opened the door and crept out. “Thank you.” You nodded to the prisoner you had bribed, who smiled before pulling the wad of bills out and flipping through them.

“I wouldn’t have told either way.” He stated. “Fuck these people.”

“Oh, well, uhm.” One hand came to rub against your neck. “That’s understandable. I hope you get some good uh.. Contraband with that.” You shot the prisoner a polite wave and he responded with a grin, light bouncing off a gold tooth. With that you continued on further down the maze of cells, thankful that they weren’t heavily patrolled. A few prisoners made comments you brushed off, quickening your pace to search for Aemond and then get the hell out of there. Eventually you came to a new wing of cells, LEDs illuminating the dirty tiles. Ducking behind a corner, you peeked your head around and saw guards practically crawling up the walls. You cursed for a moment before pulling your lips back over your teeth. Only way out was through. Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of your corner and held your head high. You walked down the hall as casually as possible, gaze still fixed on the cells.

“Ma’am?” A young man stepped forward, both hands on his hips. “I-”

“Oh, an escort. Thank you.” You said with a warm smile, quashing down the rising anxiety in your gut. “Aem has always been thoughtful like that.” The guard paused for a moment, gears visibly turning in his head. “I always get lost trying to navigate around here.” You laughed off, waving your hand. The guard still stood tense, hesitance painted across his face. Suspicion rested in the back of his chocolate brown eyes as his hands came to rest on your hips. “What’s your name?” You prompted, cocking your head to one side and shooting him a small smile.

“Brenning, Mrs. Targaryen.” The guard paused for a moment, still shooting you a reticent glance. “Why are you down here?”

“Well,” you began, “I’m sure everybody down here has heard about what happened by now.” You explained, letting your smile drop for a second as if upset. “I have business with the prisoner.” You stated simply.

“I don’t think I can let you do that.” He said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Right.” Passive aggression seeped out into your words. “Well we could go ask my husband right now if you want?” You said, gesturing back the way you came. “I’m sure he won’t mind being disturbed.” The guard stiffened after that.

“Ma’am I don’t think tha-” He ran a hand through his straight brown hair, and despite his massive size he looked more like a scolded kindergartener.

“No, let’s go. We can go ask him right now.” You took a step back in the direction you came, an indignant look on your face as you prayed he wouldn’t call your bluff. To your relief the guard relented and started walking in the opposite direction.

“Right this way, Mrs. Targaryen.” Why would I inherit his last name? This planet is weird.

“Thank you, Brenning.” The man shot a nervous smile at the ground, and pangs of guilt hit you. Aemond was the one who had been holding you here, he was just caught in the cogs like the rest of you. “What got you into this job?” You asked, offering an apologetic smile to him.

“Well, originally I wanted to be an FBI agent but my son’s mother got pregnant.” He said, his face softening at the mention. “And he’s a little bit older now.” The man continued as you nodded. “But you know that’s out in Quantico…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I can’t move out of the state because of our custody agreement but I can’t afford to have it renegotiated in front of a judge, you know?” He asked.

You nodded as you listened. “It’s crazy how expensive it is.” You covered, musing once more on how strange the customs of this planet were. “I think you would be a good FBI agent though.” You smiled. “I’ll see if I can talk to Aemond about working something out.”

Brenning beamed at that before he caught himself and looked flat ahead of him. “I would appreciate that, Ma’am.” The two of you came to a door where Brenning scanned his badge, and a green light flashed before it opened. “If you don’t mind me asking Ma’am, what are you going to do when you’re in the cell with him?”

The smile dropped from your face as you considered your words. “We’re going to have some choice words.” You replied flatly, with Brenning raising his eyebrows before looking back off towards the wall.

“It’s right this way, Ma’am.” The brunette continued, placing his security badge over the scanner once more before waving you in. “I’ll be waiting out here.” He said with a polite smile, leaning his weight back on his heels as he crossed one hand over his wrist.

“Thank you, Brenning.” You replied with a wide smile, mentally cursing. You needed to draw him into the cell so Aemond could get his gun and you could get his badge. Aemond looked over from the other side of the room, caught mid-pace. Shooting a wide smile at you, he pulled you in for a hug.

“How?” He questioned, pulling back for a minute to look at you, hands gripping your arms.

“Knocked the other Aemond out. Listen. I have one of the guard’s guns, I want to lure the other one in here so you can get his.”

Aemond nodded, a thoughtful look on his face before his implant flashed. “Shoot the gun.” He commanded, closing the gap between you in seconds before coming to stand at your side. You looked at him in bewilderment, but it did have some merit. Brenning was bound to come in. Nodding, you aimed for the opposite end of the cell. You turned the safety switch off before racking a bullet and firing. Looking at Aemond, he moved to the blind corner of the cell while you stood in the middle. Your heart raced in your chest and your hands shook, but sure enough Brenning bounded into the cell. Aemond struck as soon as he entered the cell, punching him and knocking him down in one fell swoop. Aemond lowered himself methodically, undoing the strap and removing the Brenning’s pistol from the holster.

“Sorry, Brenning.” You whispered, Aemond raised his eyebrows in your direction. He then waved his arm, gesturing you to fall in behind him. You followed as he peeked his head out, nodding as he stepped through. You breathed out a sigh of relief upon sight of the empty hall, but the nagging worry of other Aemond ate at you. You didn’t have much more time before he was awake and alerted the guards. Rounding the hall, your face lit up with a smile and you bounded towards it.

Aemond lunged forward to grab your arm. “What are you doing? The elevators are the first place they’ll look, and after they shut them all down we’re sitting ducks. We’re basically sitting ducks here anyways, it’s a prison.”

Wrenching your arm from his grasp, you pressed the button before stepping in. “I have no plans to ride the elevator. Besides, the point of a prison isn’t to be impenetrable. That’s impossible.” You stated. “It’s centered around stopping you until you can be detained and returned to your cell.” Pressing the button for the main floor, you stepped out of the elevator before the doors could close and pursed your lips. “Oh ye of little faith.”

“Rȳ issa quba.” You rolled your eyes in response as the two of you stood in front of the elevator. You pulled up your watch, scanning the map on the wall into it and overlaying the schematic over your pin. Seconds later, a klaxon sounded and the lights on the walls blinked red. You locked eyes with Aemond before the two of you stole off towards the direction of the maintenance stairways. Hearing the pounding of boots on tile, the two of you ducked behind a wall.

“The elevators were accessed, Charlie team is meeting us there.” You smirked at Aemond. Once they had passed the two of you continued on your way until you reached the stairwell. Taking a few steps up, you peeked up the winding path, relieved to see nobody was there. You and Aemond bounded up the stairs, getting to the third floor before you stopped, raising your arms above your head for a moment.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You panted out. “I’m out of shape.”

“Then we’ll walk, it’s a better way to recover anyways.” You rolled your eyes but acquiesced, plodding one foot in front of another as your calves burned. As the two of you reached the fourth level the door opened, and a surprised janitor walked out. His eyes widened in horror for a moment before he started to reach for a small radio on his hip.

“Wait!” You exclaimed as you raised your pistol. “If you try to call them I will shoot but I don’t want to do that.” You paused for a moment, trying to remember Earth history. “Do they give you dental insurance?” You asked. The janitor looked taken aback, and you looked at his nametag. “Brandon. Do they? He shook his head no, his hand still hovering over the object. “Don’t die for an employer who won’t cover a root canal, Brandon.” He nodded before walking towards you, taking care to squeeze past on the opposite end of the small platform with raised hands and a pale face. You breathed out a sigh of relief before looking at Aemond and running back up the stairs. When you reached the sixth level, the two of you grinned. The parking garage.

Aemond pushed open the door and the two of you bounded inside, Aemond raised his gun and pointed it at a valet driver sitting inside a car. “Get out of the car.” He commanded, pistol trained on the valet driver’s face.

The man laughed, puffing his chest up with fear in the back of his eyes. “You don’t scare me, man.” Aemond aimed the pistol at a nearby column and fired. The man’s expression dropped and with his bravado out the window, he obediently stepped out of the car.

You and Aemond moved for the driver’s seat at the same time and you shot him a look. “You have enhanced aim, in case we need it you should be the one to shoot at people out the window.” Aemond considered for a second before nodding, moving to the other side of the car. As soon as he got in you buckled your seatbelt and shot him a pointed look when he didn’t follow suit. Aemond shot you a weary look. “Okay but cybernetic implants won’t stop you from smearing all over the asphalt.” You pointed out as he rolled his eyes and buckled. As soon as he did, you peeled out of the garage and onto the street. “Alright this can’t be harder than flying Vhagar.” You muttered to yourself, the car lurching forward unevenly as your foot pressed on the accelerator.

“Well now I see your point about the seatbelt.” Aemond quipped before you shot him a glare. You pulled out of the garage onto the street, checking the mirrors that seemed to serve as guides for the blind spots.

Pressing on the pedal, you cursed at the cars ahead of you and slapped the wheel. “By the Seven get out of the wayyy.” You whined as Aemond snickered. Merging into the furthest left lane, you sped up before weaving through traffic.

“Y/N. We have admirers.”

You cursed as you sped up, merging across two lanes and cringing as a loud honk sounded behind you. “Sorry.” You mumbled. Before the large black cars could merge behind you, you swerved off onto a separate road. This one led to a larger road with four separate lanes, and you pressed the pedal all the way down, weaving and speeding through the traffic to avoid the cars. Despite this they started to gain on you, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you shifted into the left hand lane in front of a car that was approaching a massive truck with a huge box on the back. Your car was smaller and you sped around the curve of the treacherous mountain road. Looking in the rear view mirror, your heart raced as you saw three of the black cars riding behind the car further behind you. Slowing slightly, you pulled along another curve and sped up as soon as it straightened. In the rear view mirror the black cars had passed the gray one behind you and sped around the curve. The larger car on the left spun out on the narrow path, slamming into the one in the right lane as the two bounded over the metal fence on the edge. Metal crumpled and ground with a screech as it reeled off the cliffside, and you gasped. Staring back ahead of you at the road, you gripped the steering wheel with shaking hands. “Do you think they’re okay?” You whispered out after a second.

Aemond paused for a moment, contemplating. “No.” He answered, staring at the road ahead of you before clenching his fist. You drove along the road, foot still flooring the accelerator as your attention flickered between the road and the cars behind you. You took an exit onto another road, breathing out a sigh of relief at the empty road. Continuing on, something approached off in the distance. Metal shone in the harsh sunlight, and you two drove further into the red desert. Cactuses passed along the side of the road as you two approached the fence, but Aemond froze in his seat.

“Do you see that?” He pointed at a spot further past the fence you were approaching. An opalescent borealis danced in the sky, and you slowed, approaching the gate before speeding up and driving past it. Looking in the rear view mirror, you winced at the sight of three more black cars behind you. They gained speed as the two of you drove and you shot a look at Aemond who pulled out his gun and lowered the window. Aiming behind him, you cringed at the deafening firing close to your ears and checked the rear view mirror. Behind you, the deflated tire of the car popped, leading the vehicle into a tailspin as it slammed into the other one. You took a deep breath as the other car accelerated and the gun fired two more times. The car came to a halt behind you, the blood splattered on the shattered windshield. You paled and drove in the direction of the patina. A cave approached in the distance and you slowed as you approached it, another car gained speed in the distance as you finally came to a halt and the two of you sprinted into the cave. Tires screeched behind you as nausea pulled at your gut and suddenly you two were in the hall of the house again.

Bricks morphed into concrete before your eyes as you braced yourself against the wall, clapping a hand over your mouth as your stomach turned. “I don’t think that will ever get more pleasant.” You groaned before dropping your hand. “But I’m glad we’re out of there.” Aemond nodded, his lips pulled into a tight line before he reached a hand out to rub against your arm. You smiled at him as you took a step towards the room, pushing the ajar door further open and entering. Feeling Aemond’s annoyed glare boring into the back of your skull, you rolled your eyes. “Be quicker.” You walked towards the bed and sat down before laying back on the bed with your legs dangling over the sides. “I’m just gonna say it.” You stated, staring up at the ceiling. “Other you is the fucking worst.”

Aemond chuckled at that, and you sat up to see him shaking his head. “I don’t like him either. I hated that world.” He said with a shaking head.

You patted the spot next to you on the cot. “Pop a squat, tell me about it.”

Aemond stiffened for a moment before closing the space between you two and coming to sit on the bed. “After the accident they tried to regrow my eye but my body rejected the new one.” He admitted. You reached out to hold his hand. “It was worse than losing the eye… and I was a freak without one.” You nodded for a moment. With medical technology where it was, perceived deformities were more anomalous than ever. “Then we were back in that world and everybody was staring at my implant.” Dejection laced his tone as he continued, “And I was a freak again.” He finished.

You squeezed his hand, reaching the other out to turn his chin towards you. “You have never been a freak.” You stated, eyebrows wrinkling as you stared into his eyes, real and robotic. “I have loved getting to know every season of you… and anybody who’s too shallow to want the same is the real freak.” Aemond wrenched his face away from your hand, staring off into the corner with a sober expression. Your heart dropped as you pulled your hand away, shifting further to the left of the bed before covering your eyes. A sunbeam shone through the window, reflecting off a mirror right into your eyes. You winced before raising a hand to cover your eyes. After a minute of heavy silence, you finally spoke. “Fuck that mirror.” You whined, glancing at it for a moment. A hinge? You stood up, approaching the mirror with a furrowed brow.

“What is it?” Aemond asked.

You didn’t reply, glancing across the room where another was positioned slightly lower. “Do you remember that ancient civilizations course we took in our third year?”

This time it was Aemond’s turn to furrow his eyebrow. “Yes, why?”

You stepped closer to the mirror, adjusting it so the sunbeam shone into the other mirror, which directed it to the floor. “Remember Egypt? The Earth civilization? Those mirrors in the pyramids?”

Realization dawned on Aemond’s face as he nodded, one finger pointed as he glanced around the room to another mirror. You walked across the room to adjust the second one so it shone into the third, which shone onto a vent near the top of the room. You and Aemond shot each other a confused look before Aemond grabbed a chair and grabbed the cover of the grate. Pulling it off, he reached inside, pulling out a small, weathered box. You shot him a curious look as he set it on the table, opening it to see a journal. You pulled it out, flipping through it idly to see scrawled handwriting. The seventh page held a rough map of the room, with a few X’s marked. You made a mental note to check them out later. You shot a confused look at Aemond, who was holding a large piece of paper. “Keplan March 24th. The Lords haunt me day and night. To see the wonders of the universe unfolded, creation itself wrought into view for infinitesimal beings such as ourselves. This room is a prison, a cell keeping me here until I can return to the embrace of the library once more.” You whistled after reading it raising your brows with a chuckle, Aemond shot you an amused look as he glanced up from his piece of paper. Flipping through the pages, you glanced through more crude maps of a large room and more. “Avoid the whistler at all costs.” You continued, adding a spooky lilt to your voice as you mock shuddered. “They reform.” The handwriting started to trail off into indistinguishable scribbles, nonsensical loops bleeding out of the margins. “Maiden. Stay mine. ”

“Fascinating.” Aemond said flatly, staring back down at the piece of paper he was holding.

“What’s that?” You dug through the box, brushing aside some pencils.

“A map.” You moved closer to him, peeking over his arm to look at it. The Library of the Lords was printed across the top in flowing cursive, and you gave it a quick once over before shifting your attention back to the box.

“Wait.” A few gemstones lay scattered across the bottom of the box. Pulling one out, you held it up to the light.

“Madeira citrine.” Aemond echoed, his implant pinging yellow.

“Arcturus.” The script was neatly engraved into the bottom, and you furrowed your brow. Gems relating to stars? “What the hells is it for?” You mumbled.

Aemond picked up another stone. A sapphire glittered in his hand and he turned it over in his large hand. “Vega.” He stated, before walking across the room. The blonde’s gaze panned across the room to the walls. After that he looked towards the ceiling, pointing one digit at it. Pockmarks lined the ceiling, and you turned back towards the box in confusion. Twenty-three gems of varying colors were scattered throughout the box, and you rummaged through them. All correlated with stars.

“I think we figure out the rest of the constellations.” Aemond nodded, grabbing a chair and stepping up to place the gem marked Polaris in the northernmost spot. You nodded, grabbing a chair and helping him to make the map reflect the sky from Earth’s sky. Nothing happened. You stood with arms on your hips as you glanced at the ceiling. “Maybe we did it wrong?” You asked.

Aemond nodded, pacing back and forth. “Ancient civilizations.” He mused. “If the mirrors are Egyptian, maybe the constellations are too.” You nodded eagerly, pointing at him with a smile.

“Then Thuban needs to go there.” You pointed at the spot Polaris sat at. “Earth’s north pole shifts location over time. The Egyptian’s north star was Thuban, their architects based the design of the pyramids off it.” Aemond nodded before complying, placing the gem into the spot before arranging the others into the Draco constellation around it. You worked on recreating the female hippopotamus as Aemond worked on the last one. When the two of you finished, a sucking sound filled the air as you turned towards the source of the noise. At the opposite wall, a void opened into an oil spill darkness. The two of you looked at each other hesitantly before you opened the journal again. “I think we found the entrance to the library.”

Aemond nodded silently, reaching out to reassuringly stroke your back. “Yeah.” He mumbled, staring at the portal in biblical awe. The two of you looked at each other hesitantly before you crossed the room to empty the contents of the box into your backpack and threw it over your shoulder, Aemond shooting you an annoyed glance.

“I can take that.” He quipped.

“It’s my backpack.” You said with a dry laugh. “Come on.” Aemond started to move forward, reaching out for your hand. You smiled as you laced your fingers into his and the two of you stepped into the portal. Your heart dropped as soon as you smelled it. A dank, musty odor overpowered your senses. When your eyes adjusted to the darkness they were met with rows as tall as skyscrapers, old books lining each of the shelves. “I was here.” You whispered, terror gripping you as you looked at Aemond. He squeezed your hand. The mist in the bottle. It hadn’t been a random soapbox about physics, it was a recording of a lecture. You took a deep breath as you stepped into the Library of the Lords, primordial terror steeped into your bones.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @chainsawsangel

#aemond x reader #hotd x reader #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen x you #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon aemond

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afreakingdork · 2 years ago

Text

Above Table

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot

Warnings/Tags: General Audience Rating, Secret Crush, Love, Love Confessions, Confessions, Characters Play Dungeons & Dragons, Dungeons & Dragons References

Synopsis: Donnie always took the game too seriously. That's why when his sorcerer is fatally injured, you come to find that he he's been harboring something that far exceeds the game.

Also avaliable on Ao3

Huge shout out to @kathaynesart 's Dungeons and Drama pitch and my darling DM for always inspiring me with incredible content! 💞

The dice clattered and rolled across the table as a collective breath was held.

As it stopped, Donnie scrambled through his various stacks of notes. The flustered rush caused them to cascade across the table. Each found purchase by the other players, but no one of them moved to help return them.

“I can-!” Donnie choked on the idea as his spell sheet crumpled underhand.

Unable to see the dice from behind his screen, Mikey had to stand before he sullenly slunk back down to record the roll. “That’s a two…”

April moved next and offered a weakened smile. “At least you still have one more to go, right?”

You couldn’t take in Donnie’s response as you stared down at your own worn character sheet. The egregious zero you had doodled out after marking out the last of your healing HP glared back. You sent a meek look towards the perpetrator.

“Yeah, yeah, Donald rolls on his next turn.” Leo hadn’t noticed you or anyone else. He simply waved off the doomed aura of the table with his eyes glued to his phone.

“Leo!” Raph scolded.

“Pay attention, fool! That was his second death-saving throw! If he fails the next one, aka the last one, then he’s dead dead!” April shot to her feet and used the momentum to slap Leo’s phone straight down onto the table.

The indignity at the action caused the words to click in the slider’s mind. “Wait what?”

“There’s… nothing we can do?” Raph turned to Mikey.

From behind his DM partition, the box turtle grimaced. “Uh… so you and Leo are too far after the cliff situation. April’s attacks missed and she closed out her turn by moving towards you guys. Y/N had the healing juices once, but… again, cliff.”

It wasn’t intentional on anyone’s part, but you took it as a painful reminder of your failings.

“So this is happening all because you had to swing from that vine!?” Raph turned his worries into vengeance and zeroed it in on Leo.

“I thought I could jump on the dude’s back!” Leo folded his arms as if he couldn’t be swayed on the matter.

You knew how reckless Leo’s bard was. It was you who used all the HP from your pool instead of reserving some for a case like this.

Raph tried to match it with a glare, but Leo’s stubbornness won out. “Potions… Potions! W-we had potions, didn’t we guys?” In an attempt to snatch up his inventory sheet, Raph knocked his dice clean off the table.

From where he was once a boiling pit of nervous lava, Donnie had shifted to a chasm of ice. “I won’t allow retroactive moves.”

April rolled her eyes away from the soft shell to watch the way the snapper bumped the table as he tried to gather his bobbles back up. “It doesn’t matter anyway; Leo used his eating that green sludge in the cave. Raph, I think you used yours when we fought the Cloakers on the sky ship and I… didn’t pick any up from the merchant because I didn’t trust the way that fool sang. Y/N whatcya got?”

“I gave my last one to that raccoon when it got injured during the communion with the deity.” You sighed, slinking further down into your seat of failures.

Set back once again, Raph’s little mumbles were the only sound.

“I just thought…” Mikey murmured under the pressure of silence and tried to sneak a glance at Donnie.

“Thought what?” Donnie gave an chilled hiss. “That you would destroy your established enemy curve on a whim? How very on brand.”

Mikey jolted with a bitterness stinging his eyes. “Well, excuse me! I was just trying to make sure you were having fun since it seemed too easy for you!”

“I was having fun because I was winning!” Donnie growled and slapped his spell sheet back to the table. “And now…”

“Got ‘em!” Raph popped up and took in the air. “Oh…”

It also seemed cruel that none of them seemed to acknowledge that this stemmed from you. It was your whole paladin’s identity to help the team in any way possible. You were supposed to be the shield and the failsafe. Now, there was an ever growing chance that you’d never see Donnie’s sorcerer again.

From where you were wringing your hands in your lap, you squeezed your fingers until they stung from the force.

April gave a sigh. “Let’s just...” She gave a long once over the group and the brothers settled indignantly into their seats. “Priorities! The real issue is The Reaper is about to go.”

“… And he’s still targeting Donnie.” You mumbled nervously. You tried to reason that it was totally normal and not biased that you knew that since April had mostly kept track of potions.

“How’s that work again?” Leo held up a hand as if he were whispering to April though he used his regular voice.

She placed a fingertip to the appendage and gently pushed it until it squashed back into the slider’s face. “I’m banning phones if this keeps up!”

“You have no authority!” Leo threw a finger out at Mikey in demonstration.

The box turtle opened his mouth to respond.

“But you can’t because that’s where my sheet is!” Leo sang the phrase out and scooped up his phone to snuggle preciously to his chest.

April rolled her eyes. “This is the last time I’m catching you up! Donnie’s the only one that’s managed to hit the guy and he’s been agroing him ever since.”

There wasn’t enough room for hope to bloom in your chest, but if April caught that then your observation was absolutely in the clear. You squirmed in your seat as you tried to deal with the concurrent thoughts you had on the matter. It had to be nothing but the usual intrigue and guilt that was making you obsess over the soft shell.

“But isn’t he like… bleeding out or something? Why’s he want to beat a dead horse?” Leo twisted out of one display for another that mimicked a dying blow and subsequent collapse. He side eyed Donnie the whole way down to the table.

Donnie bared his teeth, but before he could say anything, Mikey spoke.

“Actually…” Mikey stamped a sticky note with a halo on it right to his forehead. “Y/N goes next.”

Still wriggling, you halted as the attention rounded on you. You winced with a question on your lips; Donnie despised how you verbally talked out your plans. “Uh… Okay… I was… how far from whoever?”

“Let’s see!” Mikey chirped and ducked out of sight.

You felt a sense of déjà vu.

More sessions ago than you could count, April had invited you to join a this very D&D. After meeting her at a pro-mutant rights rally on campus, you’d chatted over coffee afterwards and shared your other mutual interests. She’d been playing far longer than you and you bemoaned your lack of experience. She’d had an odd look on her face before she softly mentioned how she’d be helping out a newbie DM start a new campaign. You tried to temper your excitement as she explained how accessible the affair would be for what was essentially a first time player such as yourself.

You’d followed April down some old subway entrance that next week with immediate wariness. The space transformed from dreary to homey in an odd shift that felt like entering another world. She had stopped at a large wooden table where a set green heads in colored bandanas were parked. In quick succession, you were introduced to the brothers with Donatello being last. It was a moment that stuck out to you with a painful prick. You weren’t sure what you had done, but he took one surprised look at you before coldly introducing himself by his sorcerer ’s name. April smacked the back of his head and explained that he took the role-playing aspect a bit too seriously.

She then sat you across from him and ever since it had become your assigned seat. With each session, the lot of you strengthened your bond as you fought back corruption and greater evil. That was, all except the soft shell who seemed to be glaring at you at any given moment. He harshly judged every creative strategy you tried to employ. His sorcerer was constantly either using you as bait or a test subject for unknown items that he picked up. You carried on, both because of your paladin’s shining disposition and because he was extremely good at the game.

Despite his attitude, you often found yourself in awe of how easily he could recall the intricacies of every single person’s spells, attacks, and bonus actions. He was theatrical to a fault and his monologues easily hypnotized you when he was given a chance to shine. Though he often interfered with the rest of the party to ensure he’d make the killing blow, the loop holes he’d exploit made it so watching him was like being in the presence of a master craftsmen. It made complete sense why he’d been banned from DMing, but it was also something you wished you could go back in time to see. It was unfortunate he loved getting in his own way so much.

Your eyes lit up.

Mikey reappeared before you could voice what was forming in your head. “Alright, so Leo and Raph are like 200 ft. away from you. April is 150. The Reaper is still airborne, but has been coming down so let’s say 60 with Donnie’s wounded body at 50 because you’ve been heading towards him since he collapsed.”

Donnie clicked his tongue.

You gave him a tepid scowl. He was so infuriatingly petty. “I get it! Despite how much your character hates mine, my paladin is compelled to help whoever is hurt!” You weren’t sure why you felt the need to defend your character’s actions, but across from you Donnie refused your gaze to instead bore holes into Mikey’s screen. “I’m going to Donnie’s sorcerer and I want to do a medicine check.”

There was a collective hiss as almost everyone sucked a sharp whiff of air through their teeth.

“Uh…” Raph anxiously reached out before retracting his fingers.

Leo leaned into the snapper with a crazed face and a harsh whisper. “Do you still want to complain about my vine swing?!”

“Y/N…” April was barely able to mask her wince with a broke smile. “That won’t…”

Donnie moved to collect his papers.

“I have to. It’s all I can do.” You turned to Mikey and gave him a nod to go ahead.

Mikey gave a sympathetic look and gestured for you to roll.

With a clack, you double checked your sheet. “21.”

Mikey made a note and then gave a grave look. “You run to the sorcerer’s fallen form as The Reaper looms overhead. Blackened wing flaps echo as he draws closer and closer. You drop to your knees and put your hand to the sorcerer’s chest. His clothes are singed away and you feel nothing from his cold form. You know his wound is magical in origin and, even though you reach as deep as you can, there just isn’t any magic left within you…”

“Y/N, you’re in The Reaper’s attack line…” April gave you a small reminder.

Looking at the abysmal amount of HP you had left, you used a chip bag to cover the number up. “I want to stand over his body and shield him.”

Donnie smacked his gathered stack of notes harshly against the table to align them.

Mikey sunk down, defeated. “The Reaper lands with a billowing gust of wind and a scythe of bone slowly protrudes from his arm. Swinging it around to attention, black ichor spatters the area from where it oozes off the weapon. He then rears back to strike…”

Within two moves your HP drops to zero and the table ignited. The sound barely reached your ear as you numbly brushed the snacks away to note that. You heard April’s turn happen and her desperately shouting something. The commotion was confusing static and you lifted your eye to look across from you. You assumed Donnie would still be giving you his icy shoulder, but instead you found him staring at you evenly. It didn’t shake you out of your funk, but you surfaced long enough to part your lips to translate a silent question. He took it in with a flick of his eyes, but chose to watch you until something brought his eye to the head of the table.

“Alright, Donnie! You got this!” Mikey was on his feet.

The lair rushed back to you and you realized everyone else had gotten to theirs as well.

Palming his dice, Donnie took a deep breath before letting it cascade off his palm and down his fingers. It rolled against the baited breath and rocked as it landed.

Leo gave a pained screech.

You tried to remind yourself that you did all you could to rectify your wrong.

“You find yourself floating in a broken land…” Mikey addressed Donnie with energy waning within each word. “You know this to be the Astral Plane…”

Leo draped himself over April and gave a synthetic sob. “I’m writing an ode to him as we speak! It should have been me!”

“Come on, dude…” Raph huffed.

“Literally didn’t even realize he was dying two seconds ago.” April pinched Leo’s forearm.

“You know you are not long for this world either. Do you want to reach out to your gods or ask the questions you’ve always sought?” Mikey continued on as if unaware.

“I reach against the veil to the paladin.” Donnie responded without hesitation.

You snapped to attention and wildly searched him.

He ignored you to wait for Mikey’s response.

Following his gaze, you moved to catch the last moments of surprise pass over the box turtle’s face before he gave a sad, but understanding smile.

“Y/N.” Mikey turned to you.

“Yeah?” You whispered and came to realize that the other conversations had halted in favor of watching the exchange.

“Everything is dark and you are somewhere in-between. You haven’t felt anything since The Reaper’s blade pierced you, but now you sense a familiar presence ghosting over you.”

“What…?” You searched your tablemates to find all but Donnie just as confused as you.

“Roll a D20 for me.” Mikey gave you a reassuring bob. You didn’t miss the mischievous air to it.

Your hands felt heavy against the small bobble as you gave it a little shake before casting it out. “18.”

Mikey nodded, his eyes down to whatever pages he had behind his partition. “You know it to be the sorcerer who has been by your side for many moons. You cannot see or hear him, but your eyes widen as some of his knowledge enters your mind.”

A piece of paper slid across the table.

The fingers on the edge of it trailed back to Donnie who wore a troubled frown and refused your eye.

You leaned forward to look and he gave it a shove. The page then delicately floated until it landed perfectly in front of you.

“Read paragraph 3 to yourself.” His voice had a calculated stillness to it.

Still lost, you gave him one last look.

He continued to deny it, but you caught how his expression had shifted with a tinge of pain.

Looking down at the paper, you immediately identified it as Donnie’s backstory. He’d touted its length but hid its direct content many times since the game started. The gazes on you heated up in a way that said you’d be the first to see it. You swallowed hard as you picked up the page. Counting down as instructed, you started at the third indentation:

“He never imagined much past his plans for global conquest. Knowing knowledge would be the key, he planned his whole life based on this pursuit. He would think very little of the paladin that he’d be forced to party with. They were too selfless and had sworn an oath that he would make a mockery of. All that changed, when they smiled and introduced themselves. The emotion he’d felt in that moment would pain him and he didn’t know then what it meant. He’d secretly tried to dispel any sorcery, thinking something was cast. As time went on, he’d try to remind himself that the paladin was everything he hated; the exact opposite of his type. They were dumb and easily fell for the most ridiculous schemes. They were too happy and smiled even under the worst circumstances. They were kind to a fault and haplessly threw themselves in harm’s way to protect the other members of what he begrudgingly considered his family. He had a goal, a larger purpose. He didn’t have time to give in to petty things like feelings. Still, they wormed their way in. With a heavy heart, the day he acknowledged his love for the paladin was also the day he decided it would be best to carry that emotion secretly until his dying breath. He would not believe himself worthy of their love.”

The paper felt both too heavy and too light. You worried if you moved at all that it would simply cease to exist. Scouring back over the paragraph, you tried to figure out when he had written this. There was no way he could have known this from the get go. He’d come to session zero with his stack already transcribed.

Eyes watering from disuse, you attempted to blink.

The writing was typed out which meant Donnie must have updated it. He had clearly been adding the contents from each consecutive meeting. It was just vague enough, but a reel of actions outside the game cycled through your mind and seemed to parallel the text.

You remembered the shame that burned in your cheeks the day Leo had gotten you by saying the word gullible was written on the ceiling. It had only been matched by the humiliation you’d felt when your paladin had been obviously duped into buying a cursed piece of armor.

You recalled the day you’d arrived to a session having plastered a smile after being present during a bodega robbery. It clipped with the time your paladin had been hit with Moan, but maintained a grin for the party’s sake.

You hadn’t forgotten the day you’d mistakenly stumbled upon the brothers mid-battle and had thrown yourself in Raph’s defense after he’d been struck. It easily contrasted the any number of times you’d used Interception in player combat.

It all felt so surreal. The sea of coincidences barely tipped the scales from where you thought you it was just your imagination. In a crawl, your gaze lifted from the page to the soft shell that had passed it to you. His eye was still shoved to the side, but he now wore guarded expression that screamed a preparation for rejection.

Shifting away from a dazed watering, your vision now blurred with further realization.

He was the stupid one.

He was the one that got swept up in his excitement.

He was the one trying to be self-sacrificial.

The first fat tear formed in your left eye and threatened its plummet. You put the paper back down on the table and as soon as you did, you heard Donnie’s voice.

“I let go.”

Mikey began to talk, but your chair clattered to the ground as you shot up.

“You can’t!” It wasn’t a single droplet, but a dozen that flooded your cheeks in a stream.

Someone gasped.

“I’ve done all I’ve ever wanted.” Though his voice was even and you could barely see him, you could tell Donnie’s expression was wounded. He’d accepted a multitude of fates.

“No!” You were already rounding the table.

In a counter move, Donnie flew to his feet, ready to sprint.

“Stop!” Mikey commanded, a sharp spark of orange energy crackled through the air.

You both complied.

“Y/N, roll your last two saving throws. Now.” Mikey tossed a D20 at you instead of letting you walk back to your spot.

“But-” Leo choked on the syllable as a chain wrapped around his mouth.

“Now? Mikey, it’s not my-” You tried to reason but the zip of golden hue around Mikey’s pupil throttled your voice. You stared down at the table helplessly and rolled. “6… and 3…”

In stark contrast to his previous tone, Mikey’s watery voice reached your ears. “You find yourself floating in a broken land…”

It was like hearing a starting signal and you shot around the table. Donnie flinched as you stalked up to him. You stopped just short and he stared back at you with impossibly wide eyes.

“Did you mean it?”

“I play the game as it is meant to be played; a full immersion of oneself.”

“No!” You snapped and he shuddered again. “Above table! Did you mean it?”

His cheek hollowed out as he took a sharp breath and he forced his mouth into a tight line. For a moment, he tried to look everywhere but you before the reality of the situation seemed to sink in. His body language said he was still put out and he spoke out the corner of his mouth. “In my zeal, there is a chance I committed to the part a little too well.”

“Idiot.”

“Hey-!” The insult died on his lips as he saw a new river of tears rushing down your cheeks.

“Stupid! Dummy! Jerk!” You reached up as if you were going to swing, but he caught your wrists.

He leaned in close and dropped his voice for only you to hear. “Fine. Yes, you’re right, and, as much as it pains me to say this, we are not actually alone in the astral plane right now.”

“You’re dead…” You hiccupped and he released you.

“I am…” He mumbled in a way that spoke to the many volumes that simple phrase had before stepping forward. It just barely allowed your head to touch the pointed edge at the breast of his plastron. You resisted the urge to collapse into him and shook slightly as the last of the tears were ripped from you. One of his arms slung around your back and the tense muscles you felt said he was holding back more than he let on. He cleared his throat and you felt him straighten. “The… game, yeah that’s it, the game was quite a lot for Y/N. I’m going to take them to the kitchen to make some tea.”

You wormed an arm out of view and pinched him.

He put on a smile to hide the wince.

“You got it!” Mikey gave a chipper wink and then clapped his hands to gather attention. “Alright, we’re still in initiative people!”

“Are you kidding me right now!? I’m just gonna swing my lute at a literal death god after watching whatever that was!?” Leo gaped.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Mikey shrugged as if that were obvious and rolled his dice.

Fading counter murmurs argued as Donnie’s arm tightened the further away you got.

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