#and when my goddess tells me to look in her the eyes as she judges my soul i will not be able to meet her gaze | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 2 months ago

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Ludos Imperiales III

Summary: Saving your mates may cost more than you bargain for, but how far are you willing to go to save them?

Content Warnings: Branding; Mentions of Slavery/Abuse; Vomiting

Pt 1 / Pt 2

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Fables had largely been forbidden in the Empire, starting in the early reign of my Great Grandfather Hybern II. Fables and fairytales had no use in the practicality of his Empire. Stories and fables gave people ideas, it made them hope and dream of better worlds than this one. The Empire could not thrive on the backs of dreamers. And so books burned in the streets, and the oral traditions of many people died in the following years. Schools taught with books written by Imperial Scholars, all edited and fact checked by the Emperor himself. The world became what he saw fit to shape it as.

To him, the fairytale idea of mates was a weakness. He declared all mated pairs cursed by the Mother. A bond was a manifestation of a weak will. If you could not thrive on your own without needing another to carry you, then you were not fit to be in the Empire. He removed all mated pairs from service, both within the palace walls and in military service. Mated pairs were not allowed to own land within the Empire, Temples were not legally allowed to recognize or perform a marriage ceremony. They were shunned as lepers and regarded as subpar beings. The bond made them loyal to each other first and foremost, and that was an allegiance torn in his mind. He made sure everyone else saw it that way too.

Father would not have such an obvious weakness. In his earlier years, he’d scoured the Empire, searching every village he ravaged and town he conquered for signs of that supposed weakness. He’d felt a pull, to a small ocean village in Elfhaven, and that pull had led him to a healer’s cottage, tucked into the ocean cliffs. He’d stood on the threshold of her doorway, cursing the Mother, cursing whatever weak will he had managed to leave unchecked, and then, he’d tossed her into the sea. His father had thrown a city wide celebration in his honor. Finally, a son who could master himself and his weaknesses. He used to tell me that story at bedtime, when my Mother tucked me in. Love was for children. Mates were for lesser beings. Mother had never argued with him about it either, this was simply a fact in their marriage. Theirs was of convenience, a mutually beneficial contract, and I often wondered if that story was also a means to remind her that she too could be disposed of if a weakness revealed itself.

But, I had been a lonely, and curious child and would often sit with the Nymphs that lived in the bubbling brooks and streams around the River House, and would ask them all the questions I was afraid to ask my Father. They whispered their own tales of mates between the bubbling rocks and rolling waves and I’d latched onto their ideas of a bond so strong it could bridge a soul together. Perhaps it was my loneliness, my need for affection I couldn’t easily find at home, but I clung to that little piece of what everyone else swore was fiction like my life depended on it. It became my lifeline. I’d pray to the Goddess every night for something like that; for someone who could love me beyond reason.

A dream that slips through my fingers as I step into that cell.

Cassian, chained against the wall with a gorsian collar around his throat, spits at my feet as I enter. I’ve seen hatred enough in my lifetime to understand the fire that blazes in those hazel eyes.

All the air in my lungs leaves in a rush, as if he’d thrown a fist directly into my stomach. He hates me. Hates me for what I’ve done to him; hates me for what I allowed to happen in that arena. Hel, judging by the way he sizes me up next to Father, he hates me purely because I look like him in the eyes.

My chest aches like it just might crack open and spill my heart out onto the floor.

For the slight, one of the guards slams the butt of his spear directly into Cassian’s gut, knocking him to the floor.

Despite the obvious malice, I have to physically lock my knees to keep myself from moving towards him; have to bite the inside of my cheek to not tell them to leave him alone. Maybe it’s not his fault he hates me. Maybe I deserve it.

“Charming as ever, Cassian,” Father says.

Cassian glares through the locks of sweat slicked hair falling over his forehead, “Fuck you!”

The butt of the spear slams into his temple and it takes every ounce of training not to let the dark, obsidian power trying to unfurl from my clenched fists turn the guard to ash. It would be so easy, a mere flick of the wrist and the only evidence that he’d ever lived a bit of dust left to mingle in the dirt coating the floor. I want to. Damn me, I want to splatter all of them across the dingy walls; hear the last, sharp intake of breath gurgle out of their chests for putting their hands on my mate. There’s a possessive, ugly thing that rises in my chest, threatening to choke the life out of me if I don’t move, act, on this base instinct. The bond rattles against my rib cage, a beast in its own right. It demands action, swift and immediate. It demands blood.

“You sure you can handle this beast, daughter?” Father sneers.

Cassian regards me with the disdain of someone who stepped in shit while wearing new boots.

“I’m sure,” I say with more confidence than I feel, but I’m too much of a coward to look him in the eyes when I say it. My gaze flicks to the others instead, hoping against reason that I will not see the same hatred on their features.

Azriel remains tucked in the corner, where he can use his body to shelter his broken wings. There isn’t the same malice in his own hazel eyes, but there is a cold indifference that cracks me open just the same. His earlier appraisal must have told him enough, because there is no lingering curiosity, only apathy. I am not asking him to throw himself into my arms; hell, I don’t even need him to smile, I just need something, any hint that my name alone hasn’t ruined this before it even starts! But there is nothing.

I try to keep my shoulders back, try to stop my body from curling in on itself. I want to curl up on the floor and wait until the old stones absorb me.

“I am curious,” Rhysand says, the s slurred like he bit his tongue when he hit the wall. “Why keep us alive?”

“Why let you be a martyr?” Father counters.

Rhysand studies me, violet eyes--glassy from what’s certainly a head injury, especially with the blood still flowing freely from an inch wide gash across his temple--rove over me slowly, starting at my hairline and working down. His head tilts quizzically when his gaze reaches my cheek. He shouldn’t be able to see anything in this light, but I find myself shifting my stance just enough to block the view all the same.

He frowns as his study goes lower, to the singe across my skirts, and the dirt stains from my stumble down the stairs.

“I’d rather be dead than dragged around like a dog!” Cassian spits.

Rhysand won’t stop looking me over, like he’s calculating something. Not exactly the acknowledgment I want, but I will take the intrigue of his study over apathy and hatred as if it is. Curiosity is better than nothing.

“You will honor your word, and send aid to my people?” He asks.

“If anyone is stupid enough to bet on you,” Father counters. “And if it makes it past the highwaymen and looters that have been waylaying my caravans. Your people might have more food if they weren’t attacking supply lines.”

My stomach twists. So Rhysand hadn’t been lying then, things have truly become that bad? Or have they always been that bad, and the sheltered nature of my upbringing had kept me from truly seeing it?

“Do you have supply lines that run through Illyria?” Rhys counters, not rising to the bait. “I can’t recall.”

“You will be branded,” Father says, jaw ticking as he doesn’t get the results he wants. “You will remain in chains and fight when called to fight. Any attempts at escape, and I will drag your people into the arena in droves. They can’t all be as adept at fighting wargs and Giants as you.”

Azriel’s gaze darkens at the threat.

Cassian’s lips pull back in a sneer, teeth flashing.

But Rhysand nods, gaze still on me, like he’s deciding something. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what.

“Keep your end of the bargain, Highness, and we will keep ours.” He says.

“Rhys!” Cassian seethes.

“Quiet,” Rhysand returns. Briefly, his gaze leaves me to go to Azriel, and the other male nods, just barely.

“How noble,” Father sneers.

“We will do what we must to save our people.”

Father waves the guard at the door in. Another follows, holding a glowing hot branding iron in his gloved hands.

“On your knees!” The doorman barks.

The contents of my stomach rise in my throat. I can’t let this happen! I can’t let them do this to them!

Rhysand kneels first, well technically, Cassian’s still down from the blow to the stomach; Azriel follows, grimacing against the pressure it puts on his wings.

I cannot beg for them. I will give myself away. I will doom all of us.

I can’t let this happen either. I can’t stand here uselessly!

“You’ll do it,” Father says to me and my panicked train of thought slams to a screeching halt. What?!

The guard holding the iron snorts out a chuckle. “Doubt she can hold the damn thing.”

Father turns to fully look at me and I do my best to keep my chin up. I have to keep the mask up; I cannot let him see.

“You wanted this. You’ll do it.” He doesn’t think I have it in me; that much is obvious. He thinks me weak and spineless and meek, unable to do what is necessary. I have always known it, but I have never felt it so clearly as I do now.

And maybe he is right. How can I do this, even for the sake of protecting them? How can I raise a hand to my mates?

I swallow the lump in my throat. If I reach out to take that iron, my hands will shake and give me away. If I stand here and refuse, I give myself away. There is no winning; how did I think I could play a game like this? He wins; he always wins.

Not today, a voice whispers in the back of my mind. My body moves without my consent, as if I’m a puppet on a set of strings, being moved by an invisible hand. When I reach out for the iron, my hand doesn’t shake, even though it feels like every part of my body is trembling. The iron is heavy and warm in my hands, I have to use both to lift it, and though I should struggle to keep a grip on it, the invisible grip on me holds it steady.

Two guards move to grip Rhysand by the shoulders, pinning him in place, even though he offers his right arm willingly. His right arm that’s shredded from elbow to wrist from the wargs, blood still trickling onto the floor. The wound is deepest on the outside of his forearm, with enough space above the inside of his wrist to mark. This is cruel enough as is, but to add further to the injury…

One of the guards grabs the torch to reheat the rapidly cooling metal and my stomach is once again back in my throat. I can’t do this to him!

Don’t let him win, the voice whispers again.

My body is still not my own, still moving despite my best efforts to not. It feels like I’m watching myself from outside my body as the iron is pressed to his skin. I can’t even gag against the horrible smell of burning flesh, like someone locked the ability to react behind a wall of adamant.

Rhysand, to his credit, doesn’t even wince, just draws a sharp breath in through his nose. He holds eye contact with my Father the whole time in another silent challenge and I cannot decide if he is the bravest or stupidest male I’ve ever met.

The guards reheat the iron as my body moves away from him, and I’m sure they make some sort of snide comment, but it sounds like I’m hearing it from underwater as I take in what I’ve done to him. The blistering skin forms a perfect circle, with the Imperial emblem stamped in the center. It will be a crude scar and hard to hide. My heart clenches painfully in my chest. What have I done?

The guards move to hold Azriel next, and if I was unsettled before, I’m downright ready to throw myself on a blade now. The apathy has left his eyes, replaced now with barely concealed panic. He pinches his lips together, trying not to make a sound as I approach, but his chest rises and falls rapidly, scarred hands clenching and unclenching in front of him. Shit those are burns on his hands and I’ve got something on fire held out to him.

“What’s the matter?” One of the guards leans down to hiss in his ear. “Scared of a little fire?”

“You motherfucker!” Cassian shouts, trying to stand to get to Azriel. He’s quickly knocked back to the floor with the butt of a spear again.

“Do it!” Azriel hisses at me.

My body is still not my own as it moves to comply. The whole cell reeks of burnt flesh and it is by the sheer force of whatever will moves my limbs that I haven’t heaved up the contents of my stomach on the floor. What kind of mate am I?

Gods I am as bad as my Father! Cassian knows it too; when it’s finally his turn, the look he gives me is one I’ve seen thrown at the Emperor a thousand times. There is nothing but venom and hatred there and the bond in my chest feels raw and thin, like it has been scraped and worn down to a single, solitary thread. And yet my legs still move and my hands still hold the iron steady.

He won’t ever forgive me for this. Even if I can get them out of the Empire, even if I can save them from dying in the arena, it will never be enough. I’ve ruined my chance before it even had a chance to start.

Cassian growls when the brand touches his skin, but he doesn’t scream. None of them did. This displeases my Father, who frowns, even when it’s done. At least he is not proud of me; that would be the final nail in the coffin.

The invisible hand still won’t let go of me, I feel it holding me upright, like it knows, given the chance I’ll crumple to the floor and never get up again. How could I have done this?

Father turns to the guard closest to the door, “Go ahead of her to the River House, make sure the place is secure. Post extra guards.”

The elven male bows with an exaggerated flourish and disappears. I suppose I should feel relieved that we are almost out of this godsdamned arena, but dread settles in my stomach. It is not like my Father to make this quick, not for a convicted rebel, and not for anything I’ve shown an interest in. Taking them home now feels too good to be true and I am not inclined to believe luck or mercy have ever been on my side.

“The arena will have to be fixed before we can proceed with the Games,” Father muses. “I expect you to bring your new toys with you to entertain our guests at Amarantha’s celebration tomorrow.”

They’re throwing her a whole parade for her exports over Illyria, of course she’d want them there to see it. I doubt they’ll be the only Illyrians in attendance.

Cassian growls at that. I’m inclined to share the sentiment.

“As you wish,” I say instead. Hopefully, if I can manage to not let the guilt clawing its way up my insides to consume me, I can remain upright long enough to find us all passage out of here by the morning. This will all be a terrible dream. Even if we have to part--the bond roars in my ears at the thought--at least I will have saved them. It might be the only thing I have to give them.

Father leaves first. I don’t let myself look at my mates as I follow. The guards untether them from the wall and push them out after me, keeping a guard in between us, just in case they attempt to attack while my back is turned. I wouldn’t blame them if they tried; I’d attack me too.

I can’t get the smell of their burnt flesh out of my nose. Every time I blink I can see their blistered skin behind my eyelids. I branded my mates.

The way out of the tunnels beneath the arena is a blur, it doesn’t even register that we’re out until the sudden flash of harsh summer light sears my eyes.

There are horses waiting, and a wagon. At least he’s not forcing them to walk behind my horse, as some of the lords and councilmen make their sponsored champions do.

I don’t remember swinging into the saddle. I don’t remember urging the horse forward, or when my caravan of guards split off from my Father’s. We rode together until we didn’t. Starlight, my childhood horse, does all the directing, taking me home on instinct. The house I grew up in, the house I sequestered myself in with the curtains drawn for months and months looks foreign. The staff coming out to greet us swim in and out of my vision. I must answer their questions, because they move things around for our new guests, instructing the guards to take the wagon around to the back of the house, where there’s a guest wing turned into a cell for them. All this sounds like it happens under water.

I hear the wagon roll that direction, and even though I feel eyes on my back, I don’t allow myself to turn. I cannot bear what I will see.

Someone helps me to my rooms, holding me by the elbow, telling me I look pale and sick. I feel like I’ve stepped outside my skin. The tether in my chest feels raw. What have I done?

The sizzle of the iron on skin echoes in my ears. I can’t stop seeing the smoke. Can’t stop thinking about the panic in Azriel’s eyes. I hurt my mates.

I hurt my mates.

Whatever invisible force had been holding me together in the cell gradually releases me. Inch by inch I become aware of my body again. And I make it to the toilet just in time to hurl the contents of my stomach up. It’s the wine first. Then breakfast. And the acidic burn of bile out my throat and nose.

After Mother’s execution I hadn’t been able to stop crying for days. I’d laid in my bed with the covers over me, hiding in the dark where no one could hear the ugly sounds of my wrenching sobs. I’d thought I’d never weep that hard again. I was wrong. This is far worse.

When I no longer have the strength to hold myself up over the edge of the toilet, I curl into a ball on the floor, the tile cool and smooth against my flushed cheeks. The tears won’t stop flowing and the thing in my chest coils and tightens until it feels like a rock. What have I done?

Eventually the tears run out. The thin slit of a window in the wall bathes the room in varying shades of orange, then pink, then purple as time passes by, uncaring to my turmoil. I still can’t bring myself to get up, even as the heat of the day turns to a cool, evening chill. No amount of cold could move me now, a little suffering is what I deserve.

Someone knocks on the bedroom door. I don’t remember closing it behind me.

I shut my eyes against the noise. All this crying has given me a headache, the echo of the door against the tile makes my head throb. Good. I deserve that too.

Another knock, more insistent this time.

Why should I answer it? I should just lay here until the earth swallows me.

Another knock, followed by a muffled, “Highness?” Anise, my maid. Anise had come with my Mother, a gift from her father as she travelled here for the wedding. Mother had freed her from her servitude and Anise had asked to stay as part of the staff. She loved my Mother like she was her own; I have always thought of her like an Aunt.

“Don’t make me kick the door in!” A grumpy Aunt, granted, but her temper is always warranted.

Shakily, I manage to maneuver myself onto my knees. She really will kick the door in and her joints are old and worn, she’ll likely break an ankle, or a hip, trying. It’s for her health that I manage to get up and get to the door, not because I feel well enough to get up.

She pushes her way in as soon as I turn the handle. “You look awful!”

I feel awful. “Thanks.”

“What the hell is all of this?” She demands, waving a hand towards the hallway. She’s half Dryad, her skin like tree bark, her graying hair made of vines and leaves. Though she is old and weathered, her emerald eyes are still bright and shining. “And why are you so distraught over it?”

She paces as she speaks, not letting me get a word in as she wrings her gnarled hands together. “What’s with all the guards? And those… winged males? They are strange and gruff and I don’t like the looks of them. Which reminds me, why the Hels are they asking for you?”

My heart skips a beat in my chest. “What do you mean, Anise?”

She stops her pacing to come take one of my hands, a gesture for a Dryad that is closer to a hug. Her other hand pushes some hair off my cheek to see the yellow tint of a blooming bruise. “Did they hurt you?”

I’m going to be sick again. “No, Anise, they didn’t.”

“You promise?”

“Trust me, if anyone did any damage, it was me.” And I’ll never forgive myself for it.

She nods. “Ok, then, I will tell you.” Dryads, like Ents, are known for their long winded conversations. They never know when to get to the point. I am used to her extra long pauses and rambling tangents.

I am not, however, prepared for her to say, “Well they were brought food and a medic, as the guards ordered, but they refused it.”

Why the hell would they do that?! Was this some kind of hunger strike? By the Mother did they think I was trying to poison them?

“They said they wouldn’t touch it until they’d spoken to you.”

I think the heat has gotten to me. Did she just say they asked to speak to me?

“It’s very strange,” she continues. “Males in that bad of shape usually fight for a chance to see a medic, but they said they wouldn’t let anyone touch them until they’d talked to you alone.”

Alone? They wanted to talk to me alone?

“Are you sure that’s what they said, Anise?”

“They were very adamant about needing to see you. Rude if you ask me. Who demands to see the head of a household like that? They’re trouble, I’m telling you now.”

“They didn’t say why?” I ask.

“No. They wouldn’t say it around the guards either. I don’t like this, Highness. It’s a bad omen if you ask me. The winds have been whispering all day. Bad, very bad things will come of this, mark my words.”

Bad things had already come, couldn’t she see that? They were not the issue; I was the issue. This whole damn Empire was the issue. We ruin everything we touch. They knew that better than anyone, so why ask for me? What did they want? It certainly can't be the bond.

I absently rub my knuckle against my breast bone. The bond feels like a bruise. No, they can’t be asking about the bond. If they know it’s there, they’re not tugging on it. There is no curiosity, only pain. I’ve ruined the chance for anything more, of that I am certain.

This has to be something else, but how can I face them? There is only so much I can bear.

“You’ll make them wait, won’t you?” Anise continues. “You certainly should. It’s improper for a host to be asked for this late into the evening.”

They need medical attention. Their wounds have to heal. And they need to eat. They have to be starving, I doubt they were given a last meal before being thrown into the arena. Raw and damaged as it is, the bond still prompts me to move, even if I’d rather hide from it for the rest of my life.

“No,” I might as well rip the bandaid off. Maybe they need to tell me to my face that they hate me and never want to see me again. It can be arranged for us not to interact, even with me sponsoring them.

If that is their wish, I will honor it. Whatever it is they need, I’ll find a way to make it happen. I owe them that. “I’ll go see them.”

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@hjgdhghoe, @krowiathemythologynerd

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #azriel x reader #Cassian x reader #poly!bat boys x reader #bat boys x reader #gladiator!bat boys #gladiator!bat boys x reader #acotar #acotar au #acotar fic #my writing #my fanfics #bat boys x reader angst

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helvegen-s · 10 months ago

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Rage, rage | three

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: heavy injures, description of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, bad language, english not being my first language

They look at each other, adrenaline boiling and screaming in everyone's veins. Nimue doesn't take her eyes off Rhysand, but she feels everyone looking at her.

She feels naked, unprotected.

She blinks to get used to all that light. She had never seen so much light and it's beautiful.

Her senses come to life as she lets go of Rhysand's hand, which she had unknowingly been clinging to. She breathes over and over, trying to calm herself, but involuntarily she begins to tremble.

What has she done, what has she done, what has she done.

Father is going to kill her.

Amidst her frenzy of thoughts, Rhysand starts barking orders. She doesn't hear them well, only scattered words: healer, help, house.

Nimue glimpses a huge house to her right, and realizes she has brought them all to the courtyard of a mansion. Around her, everyone seems to spring into action.

The blonde female runs into the house, and seconds later comes out accompanied by another woman, shorter and slighter. She can't tell if she's fae or a creature. When Nimue and her lock eyes, it's like they're looking in a mirror. Both frown but decide to ignore each other.

For Nimue, it's as if everything is happening in slow motion: when she wants to realize, there's another person there, attending to the two injured Ilyrian. A glow emanates from her hands, its warmth reaching the princess's face. A healer, she supposes. She had never seen one.

She fights against her own panic, trying to get used to all the hustle and bustle and all those sounds. The birds flying above her head, the sunlight, the smell of the sea, the smell of pine and cedar, the voices around her, the poor Ilyrian screaming in pain...

She lowers her gaze, and without thinking, she starts speaking: "I can help."

Everyone looks at her again, judging her. They scan her from head to toe.

The two females who were thrown into the Cauldron are to her left, crying and hugging the one who was with Rhysand. Are they sisters? They looked so much alike...

"I can help," she repeats, this time firmer. She starts walking and sees how Rhysand prepares to attack her, "I can heal both of them, if you let me."

She analyzes the High Lord's face, and sees how little by little he is giving in. No one articulates any words, with a simple nod of the male's head, he grants her permission. He has nothing more to lose.

She kneels beside the one with the shattered wings and begins to do what she does with herself and the wounds she has ever suffered: with her magic, she grasps every little nerve ending, every small piece of skin. She pulls them and threads them, weaves them, joins them and separates them as if making a tapestry. So little by little, she shapes the wings of that Ilyrian. It's all pure instinct, what her nature dictates to her.

Father always told her she was his Goddess of Destruction, but Nimue knew deep down that she was capable of fixing, of healing, of bringin good to the world.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, she was piece by piece, shred by shred, joining and repairing the broken wings of that male. When she reached the bones, she simply imagined how they should have originally been: she ordered them to return to their form, to be soldered, and they obediently complied.

With a final grunt from the male, Nimue finished her work. But before she could get up, he grabbed her arm:

"Thank you," he whispered. Nimue is stunned. Thank you?

Had anyone ever thanked her for anything? Had anyone shown her gratitude?

No, her real doubt wasn't that. Had she ever done anything worthy of others' gratitude?

She swallowed her fear and terror, kneeling on the ground. She watched as the male limped away from her and enveloped the blonde female in a hug, how he squeezed her tightly as they both cried on each other's shoulders.

She was so, so lost. Where was she? What was happening around her?

"What a miracle of a girl," the healer whispered. Standing between Rhysand and the slighter female, the more aged-looking woman never took her eyes off her, "You are a Cauldron's blessing. When you're done, I'll need you to teach me how you do that. You are a–"

"Silence, Madja," Rhysand's voice resonates under her feet and in the very mountain, as if he had spoken those words inside Nimue's skull. She shrinks, intimidated. That's the power of a High Lord, "Now him. Heal him.”

She looks away from Rhysand and sets her gaze on the last remaining male.

Kneeling on the ground beneath him is a pool of his own blood and something that seems to be shadows, moving frenetically back and forth. She had never seen anything like it, those... beings, moving around the man. Nimue hears faint noises that she can't quite understand.

Behind her, she feels a presence moving. Rhysand looks down at her, those violet eyes so deep that Nimue feels hypnotized, "Don't just stand there gaping and do what you did to Cassian. Now. Or I'll cut off your head, you filthy Hybern rat."

She nods, and when she turns back to the winged male, he looks back at her. His amber eyes follow every small movement she makes: from the slight tremble of her lower lip to the way she raises her hand.

When he tries to speak, a trickle of blood runs down his lip to his chin, "Touch me and I'll cut off your hands, traitor."

Nimue trembles.

What the hell is she doing? Where has she gotten herself into?

Before she knows it, two streaks of water run down her cheeks. Is she crying? She had never cried before, what a strange sensation.

Her gaze travels to the hands of the male in front of her. He grips a beautiful black dagger, its tip directly aimed at Nimue's chest.

She swallows hard and, in a quick motion, grabs the arrow he has lodged in his chest and pulls it out with all her strength. She has been so fast that the male collapses forward, falling on top of her.

Rhysand and the healer, Madja, take care of getting him off her, and when Nimue tries to touch him again, the High Lord growls at her, "I told you to heal him, not to open up the damn hole in his chest further."

By pure instinct, Nimue snarls back at him, "I am healing him, you idiot. Back off."

Where she found the courage, she doesn't know. But they obey her, and she gets back to work.

The male is lying on his back on the ground, and Nimue places her hand on his chest, where the arrow was previously lodged. She begins to weave again, slowly, thread by thread.

Her gaze rests on his face, which, with closed eyes, lets out the occasional groan between his teeth.

Azriel feels like his chest is on fire. He feels the edges of the wound burning, he feels combustion from within. He takes gulps of air as he struggles not to lose consciousness, and blinded by the pain, he reaches his hand into the air and grabs onto the first thing he finds.

Nimue startles when his hand grabs her elbow, but she lets it be, the touch of his glove is a new, pleasant, and different sensation. She looks back at his face, and in a low voice, she speaks to him, "I'm almost done. Just making sure there's no trace of the poison that the arrow was coated with."

Azriel lets out a growl. He couldn't care less about the explanations. He just wants it to be over already.

The pain reaches the core of his bones and he opens his eyes abruptly, looking at the girl in front of him.

What is that?

Around her, he sees a thread, a small golden rope encircling her: it descends down her shoulders and arms, caresses her wrists and fingers, and wherever her skin meets his, he sees how the thread enters his own body.

Is he hallucinating?

Hasn't he had enough with the arrow between his ribs, that now the poison is making him hallucinate?

Behind the girl, he sees Rhysand, Amren, Cassian, Mor, even damn Madja. He sees how in slow motion their brows furrow, he sees how they lean forward, looking puzzled at something that makes Azriel scared.

"What's going on?" he asks agitated. He tries to sit up on his elbows, but although the pain has already diminished, it still doesn't let him breathe properly, "What are you all looking at like that?"

Nimue furrows her brows as she pushes the man back to the ground so he stays still. She frowns, as she begins to feel something on her fingertips...

Something is not right.

The sensation travels up her forearm and shoulder, and settles in her chest. There inside, like a caged bird, that sensation starts tumbling, back and forth, faster and faster.

She removes her hand from the man's chest and he sits up in front of her, like a spring.

Azriel feels like he's going to explode. What has that witch put inside him? What kind of magic has she used on him?

"What the hell have you done to me?" he shouts. Azriel brings a hand to his chest when that pressure keeps growing.

Nimue mimics him, feeling like her chest is going to burst.

What has she done? Has she made a mistake? Perhaps her magic has betrayed her now for the first time...

She's hyperventilating, and when she feels that, indeed, she's going to explode like a firework, she looks into the eyes of the male in front of her.

And then everything suddenly calms down.

They stare at each other, stunned, not knowing what to say. Their breaths come together, equally fast and choppy.

And when their bodies stop vibrating and calm down, she feels it there.

There's something, something pulling her towards...

Towards him.

Azriel jumps to his feet, as if they hadn't just removed a poisoned arrow from his chest or he hadn't just lost liters and liters of blood. He finds Truth Teller in its usual place and with a practiced motion after years and years of battles, he grabs the girl by the collar of her clothes and lifts her up like a feather. The dagger rests comfortably against her neck, and she does nothing but look back at him, wide-eyed.

"Azriel!" Rhysand shouts. He ignores his High Lord, although every fiber of his being tells him to obey him, "Azriel, let her go!"

Then, Nimue comes to her senses. With a practiced movement, the winged male is kneeling on the ground again. The pretty black dagger is now in her hand, while with the other she pulls back his hair.

Azriel doesn't know when all this happened. He just knows that he blinked and now he's the prey. He clings to the girl's hand pulling his hair and tries to break free, but he can't understand how such a small woman can have the strength of a thousand men.

"Now I'm going to let go of you and you're not going to attack me. Understood?" She utters each word slowly, as if speaking in another language.

Nimue takes a step back, releasing the dagger, which falls to the ground with a dull thud.

Azriel stands up, and in a leap, he's next to Rhysand in an attack position.

Before Nimue, everyone present is on high alert. Some in attack position, others simply ready for whatever may happen.

The first to speak is Azriel, with the same accusatory tone as before, "What have you done to me? Undo it." He's trembling, and Nimue can't tell if it's from fear or from the pure rage she sees in his face.

Even if she wanted to, she couldn't undo it, because she herself doesn't know what has happened.

What is that pulling her? What is that feeling in her chest, an anchor dragging her toward that winged male?

Everyone remains silent, looking at each other.

However, it's Rhysand who speaks first, the voice of reason in a desperate situation, "Let's all calm down."

Because he doesn't know if he's the only one who sees it, who feels it. That sudden change in the air. It smells like cedar and mist, like Azriel. But if he pays attention, he smells the sea salt and the sweetness of poison in the air. The scent that the girl in front of them emits. It's intoxicating and chilling at the same time. He couldn't say.

What he can say, however, is what he sees crystal clear. Azriel's essence, mixed with that of the unknown girl. He sees how both mingle in the air.

And then, Rhysand would swear that he stopped hearing Azriel's heartbeat next to him.

"My mate," his friend whispers. His face, a complete expression of surprise, something that the Shadow Singer rarely showed, "She's my mate.”

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @donttellthecats

A/N:I really hope you are all enjoying it. Every kind of support is greatly appreciated, and thank you so much to those who already support it!! If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know 🥰

#azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhysand #cassian #azriel fanfic #azriel fic

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blueishspace · 3 months ago

Text

Hero, Villain God 24

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

It's three days before the official introduction of Cuteguy to the city that you meet... her. Well, not exactly "meet" and more "encounter" if you want to be specific about it.

You are out as Poultryman when you do, you never really stopped but you can admit you have been going out less frequently as of late, you plan to pick up the pace soon enough.

In the corner of your sight you see a red hood, It's only for a fraction of a moment but you can't help but follow ir and It's when you go to do so that you recognize a familiarity... Coming from the villain known as Scarlet.

You don't know much about the villain, barely heard about anything outside of what Hotguy told you about her and she rarely seems to be out and around... A stealthy villain of sorts, mostly working in the shadows... She looks at you in silence, like she's judging you. Or perhaps like she's thinking about something.

"Not even a bit of banter huh?"

She doesn't answer asshe quite literally jumps at you. She is fast, you give her that, her hood becomes a flash of red moving towards you faster then you expected... Then she takes out a very very big scythe and you have to admit how badass of a move that is...until she swipes down and you have to worry about not being decapitated. You can live without your head but it would be an annoying thing to fix...

Once you open your eyes again... she's gone, a trick you have used multiple times as well... So that was the villain Scarlet...Of course you do not recognize her a such, no, in front of you was not only a villain. That was the saint, goddess of wisdom, playing as a villain much like you are when playing the role of Mother Spire... and that brings up many questions you want to ask her...

Of course you follow her, you don't worry about showing divinity to her...she likely has her suspicions already...You manage to corner her and wow, she really plays the the part of a disgruntled villain.quite well...but once she realizes you know her demeanor changes and she relaxes.

"Poultryman... Xelqua"

She looks down at you, impassive, no time to pretend it seems. Boooring.

"Pearl"

She nods, then looks to the side and speaks.

"We have much to talk about it seems... Perhaps somewhere away from prying ears"

You smile behind the mask, as she motions for you to take her hand you know she's offering to bring you somewhere different for this conversation.

"I agree"

And like that the two of you are teleported to the plane of wisdom, her domain. Then you see her in her true form and-

"What in the world, mate? Why are you in the mortal plane? Why now?"

Oh right, how silly of you, you didn't tell any of the others about you doing this. In your defense you are more of a "do now and apologize later" kind of person.

"The better question is why you, miss the goddess of wisdom, are acting as a villain."

She narrows her eyes for a few seconds and then she sighs and responds.

"Listen, I know how you are so let's make it fair. You tell me and I tell you. How does that sound? Easy peasy."

That does sound pretty fair you reckon, you nod and start.

"I was bored"

"What?"

"Things have been slow and like, I'm chaos, I cannot deal with boredom."

"So you have become a vigilante? To combat boredom?"

"And a villain, and an hero, and a singer and also a civilian and a singer"

Pearl looks you with pure judgement om her eyes.

"You have problems you know that, right?"

"Oh yes, I really do."

Then realization flashes in her expression.

"Wait... Hero? Do you mean to tell me that hotguy's new sidekick is-"

"Yep! Me."

This time she looks like she doesn't know wether to laugh or cry.

"... Why? How did that even happen? You know what... don't answer."

You laugh a bit at that, It's more of a giggle really, then you decide to remind her of her part of the deal.

"Well I told you why I did this, your turn!"

"Your answer was boredom"

"It's the truth though, you know me enough to know it really is! Not my fault."

"...fine, you did give me a lot of extra information anyway."

"Finally, why is the goddess of wisdom playing the role of a supervillain?"

"... It's a bit complex., do you want it right now?"

"I can do complex"

"Alright, if you say so"

And you listen as she begins to explain.

#trafficblr #traffic smp #hermitblr #hermitcraft #grian #poultry man #pearlescentmoon #santa perla #hero villain god au

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lenacosse · 1 year ago

Note

HEEYYY, thankyou so much i saw ur post. so basically reader and twins work together on occasion and she gets on really well w them and is basically another version of tan but when tan and reader get a long they are like partners in crime but on this mission they need an extra person so this new girl is constantly flirting with tan the whole misiion and reader is like really jealous and lemon his just having a wonderful time observing this play out and laughing his arse off asking reader if shes alright and stuff. tan is just completely oblivious and finds the new girl kind of annoying. Hope you can write this :))

stake out

(im so glad you saw the post! i hope this is okay, it didn’t really pan out as I thought it would but you can be the judge of that)

pairing: tangerine x reader (sort of)

cw: strong language and violence

word count: 3,991

————————————————————————

You phone rang, Tangerine and Lemon were outside waiting for you. Dragging your suitcase with you, you locked your house and made your way to the car. You took a minute to admire the car, Tangerine had a thing for sport cars. Usually you didn’t care much for them but you had to admit this one was nice. Lemon got out and put your suitcase into the boot.

“Thank you Lemon, what a gentleman you are.” You smile and get into the car. “Nice car.”

“All my cars are nice.” Tangerine replies. “I forgot to tell you, we needed a fourth member for this task. So we’re on our way to pick up Stacey.”

“Stacey? Who the fuck is Stacey,” you queried.

“Our fourth member,” remarked Tangerine . In his usual flat tone.

“I had no idea.” You roll your eyes and settle into your seat.

The car pulled up to Stacey’s place, it was a fancy apartment complex Tangerine blared the horn practically making you jump out of your seat. A few minutes later you see a gorgeous blonde woman walk out of the apartment complex with a bunch of luggage, you watch her walk towards the car, her hips swaying as she walked. You and Lemon shared a glance through the mirror and once again he got out of the car, putting her luggage into the boot.

The car door opens and you’re hit with an overwhelmingly sweet perfume, you clear your throat and look over at her. She looks you up and down then gasps when she sees Tangerine.

“Oh my goddess!” Her shrill voice squeaks.

“What?” Tangerine turns around to look at her, you sit there flicking your eyes back and fourth between them watching the painful encounter.

“Oh nothing,” she winks. You involuntarily pulled a face of absolutely disgust, you didn’t have to look at Tangerine to know how unimpressed he was by this.

Lemon gets back into the car and Tangerine starts talking about the mission, telling everyone his tactics and game plan. Stacey nods along to everything he says whilst twirling her hair in her fingers, you watch her absolutely baffled at the idea of her being in this career field. How the fuck was she supposed to kill someone?

“You didn’t introduce us.” Lemon says to Tangerine.

Tangerine sighs. “You do it then, fuck sake,”

Lemon turns to Stacey and you in the backseat. “Im Lemon, this is Tangerine you already know that and this is (Y/N).”

“Cute name.” Stacey smiles.

“Thank you! It’s-” she cuts you off.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“…right.” You scoff and look out the window, for the entirety of the journey you listen to her flirting with Tangerine. However you can’t tell if he’s not picking up on it or it’s just that he doesn’t care, regardless it was doing your head in and taking everything in you not to stick a knife in her neck.

You arrive at the hotel and check in, you are almost taken back by how fancy it was, you felt extremely out of place in your clothes. So you made Lemon come with you to buy fancier clothes.

“How did you forget to tell me to bring pristine shit?” You laugh whilst looking through a rack of dresses for your size.

“I told Tangerine to sort everything.” Lemon shows you a dress, you screw your face up at it.

“Wayyyy too many ruffles fucking hell.” You find the dress in your size and put it into your basket. “He didn’t forget to tell Stacey did he?” You scoff.

Lemon squints his eyes at you. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?! Me? Jealous?! What?! Absolutely not! Fuck me youre on something.” For the rest of the shopping trip you go on about how there’s absolutely no way you’re jealous and that Lemon is crazy. He thinks it’s the funniest thing ever, you however are not so pleased.

———————————————————————

“Hey (Y/N)? Is Tan single?” Stacey asks batting her eyelashes at you. You two were in your shared hotel room, Tangerine and Lemon were staying in the room next to you.

“Why?” You question. For some reason your stomach drops as she asks. Especially now that she was saying the nickname you always call him. But no. You weren’t jealous, absolutely not.

“Can you not see the chemistry we have? I mean god I’m already picking out our children’s names. I’m thinking Beatrice for a girl and Christopher for a boy.”

You give her a strange look. “Tangerine would not like those names.”

She walks up to you, hand on her hip and tries to assert the power in the situation, you cross your arms and look at her.

“You are a real bitch. You’re just jealous of me and Tangerine. I’m telling you by the end of this mission he’ll want me.”

“I don’t care at all.” You scoff and grab your clothes. You get changed into your new dress, it’s a classic black dress that compliments your figure perfectly.

You, Tangerine, Lemon and Stacey head down to dinner and sign in with your fake names. You sit opposite Tangerine and next to Lemon.

“I was thinking we need to solidify our cover stories,” you say taking a sip of your drink.

“What were you thinking?” Tangerine asks, one thing you appreciated about him was the way he didn’t diminish your intelligence like most men did who work this job. They find it wild that a woman could be smart enough to pull off an elaborated plan, but that was ballsy considering you thought you were pretty good.

“We’re here celebrating an engagement between two of us-“

“Me and Tangerines engagement!” Stacey cuts you off. You pinch the bridge of your nose and Lemon starts laughing beside you, you kick his ankle under the table and Stacey looks confused. “What?”

“Yeah. What? You two are children and if you don’t stop you’ll get us sussed out.” Tangerine tuts as he finishes off his drink.

“(Y/N) is just being-“ Lemon starts.

You elbow him so hard in the ribs that he flinches. “Shut the fuck up.” The food comes and you guys start eating, as you’re eating you notice a group of men bunch together and head towards the kitchen. Luckily your seat gives you a clear view of them and you watch them walk into the kitchen.

“Tangerine. Play along with this.” You say, he agrees, you pull a hair from your head and set it on your plate then and you stand up acting disgusted. “Filthy! Absolutely disgusting.”

Soon a waitress comes over, worried at your behaviour. “Im sorry is everything okay over here?”

“No everything is not okay. My fiancée has a hair in her food, this is ridiculous.” Tangerine stands up, you can’t help the smug look that falls onto your face watching Stacey look offended. You hear Lemon snickering beside you, you glare intensely at him then you smile sweetly at Stacey and turn to the waitress.

“I want to speak to your chef.” You demand. And so the waitress leads the way, Tangerine walks with you. His hand resting on your lower back. You felt your stomach doing flips as he placed his hand there.

In the kitchen Tangerine talks with the Chef as you scan your eyes around the kitchen looking for where these men could have gone. That’s until you see a man fully suited walk out of the stock room. Tangerine and you walk out of the kitchen after clearing everything up.

“Fiancée huh?” You tease.

“Improvisation,” Tan replies, a smirk apparent on his face.

“Stacey won’t be happy.” You playfully tut.

“What do you mean?” Tangerine furrows his brows.

You laugh until you realise he’s being serious. “My god you’re blind.”

You reach your table as you said that. “No tell me what do you mean?” He asks.

“Tell you what?” Stacey interferes.

“None of your business Tracey.” You suck your teeth.

“My name is-“

“Jesus christ! No one cares.” You snare.

Lemon can’t hide his laugh and you turn to him, shaking your head. “Seriously what is up with you today?” You ask.

“I think you have to ask yourself that question (Y/N).” Lemon replies

“You know what I think? I think you’re all being fucking weird today.” Tangerine grumbled.

You all finish your food. However you feel your stomach churning as Stacey starts sliding her hand up Tangerines arm, she whispers something in his ear and he doesn’t seem fazed by it at all. You didn’t realise you were gripping your glass until it shatters in your hand.

“Fuck.” You gasp, you look at your hand. You had glass shards stuck in your hand as the blood dripped onto the white table cloth.

“Tan you and Stacey sort the bill, we’ll go sort (Y/N)’s hand.” Lemon suggests. You all agree and you follow Lemon back to his and Tangerines room.

Upon walking in your hit with the familiar scent of Tangerines cologne, a scent you found yourself drawn to. You didn’t quite understand why, but anytime you smelt something similar your heart would skip a beat. But you didn’t care about him like that.

“What is up with you?” Lemon asks as he removes the glass from your palm, you hiss in pain.

“Nothing.” You grunt.

“Im not stupid. I’ve know you for three years now and never have I ever seen you so jealous.”

“Im not jealous!” You practically shout, the pain from your hand didn’t help the matter. This time Lemon didn’t laugh, he just sighed as he cleaned your hand.

“You know if you have feelings for Tangerine that’s okay. I don’t know why you’re so reluctant to admit that.”

“Okay maybe I find him attractive but I don’t have feelings.” You mumble.

“There we go one step closer to the truth. If we’re speaking truth I’ll admit these next few days are going to be the most entertaining days ever. I can’t wait.”

“Oh yeah this is so entertaining.” You scoff, “you’ve no idea how fucking annoying she is, and to make things worse I share room with her.”

“I do know because Tangerine was pissed off earlier because she wouldn’t shut up the entire car ride.”

You find yourself smiling once Lemon said that, you felt a little bit more relaxed. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. Lemon finishes fixing your hand, he stitched it and bandaged it up. He told you he was used to doing this, especially considering Tangerine is usually always fighting with someone. That was the polar difference between the two men, Lemon was calm but Tangerine was not, once that man gets pissed off he just goes off on a rampage. You’ve witnessed this multiple times, however it didn’t scare you. You secretly found it hot. But that fact you would carry to your grave.

Soon after Tangerine and Stacey come back and you guys sit to come up with a game plan for the next day. You agreed to spilt into pairs of two, you and Tangerine, Lemon and Stacey. Poor Lemon was all you could think. Anyways, you all would go to breakfast, but you would leave the table to go to the bathroom. But really you’d try get into the Casino area. If you got in successfully you were to look for whatever you could find that would identify the men you needed to assassinate. You’ll then come back, after breakfast Tangerine and Lemon would go inquire about said Casino, Lemon said there was a code name for the Casino and that was how you’d get in. And at dinner time Stacey and Lemon would go there, play a game of poker or whatever. Whilst you and Tangerine get dinner. Then once Lemon and Stacey had identified the men you would go in and kill them. Then on the third day you guys can use the spa.

———————————————————————

You get up from the breakfast table and head towards the bathroom. Since the restaurant at the hotel is a separate part there’s bathrooms there for customers. And thankfully they were opposite the kitchen, you walk up the hall and slowly open the kitchen door. You peep your head in to see only one man in there who’s back is to the door, you take your time sneaking in and walk into the stock room. At first you think you’re wrong until you look around and realise the back wall is fake, you find the hatch and walk in. And just as you thought there is the casino, you were actually surprised to see it as a legitimate full blown casino. Using the flash of your phone you look around. Quickly you come across what you assume to be guest book, it had ten names of it, three of which matched up to the names you were given by the man who hired you. He had said there were eight members to assassin and three members whose identities he knew. You take a picture and sneak back out again.

You sit at the table with a smug smirk on your face. “Well ask me how it went!”

“How did it go, love?” Tangerine chuckled. Your cheeks flushed as he said that, it wasn’t a new thing to hear. Tangerine called all women love, but for some reason it had you internally screaming.

“Amazing. I found a guestbook with ten names on it.”

“It’s not like you had much to do.” Stacey scoffed. “Tangerine here..” she squeezes his arm “found the room in the first place.”

“No, (Y/N) did. It was her that got us into the kitchen and it was her that spotted the room.”

Stacey let go of his arm and finished her food silently. You glare at her with a smug look on your face and crossed your arms. She looked pissed off, but you weren’t bothered or intimidated in the slightest. And of course Lemon was laughing into his hands.

After breakfast the four of you go to you and Stacey’s hotel room. That was after Tangerine and Lemon had gotten access cards to the Casino, everything was going smoothly. You and Tangerine were debating whether or not killing these men would be hard, you said it wouldn’t, Tangerine said it would considering we’re massively outnumbered. It was all lighthearted until Stacey buts in.

“It won’t be hard Tan don’t worry darling. I know you’ll protect me.” You hide your hands in your face to control the unbearable second hand embarrassment you just got. You peak over at Lemon through your fingers, hes laughing into his hand and Tangerine just awkwardly laughs to what she has to say. This makes her get confident and sit beside him leaning into him to the point there wasn’t even a slither between them.

You felt your blood boil as you bit your lip. She was seriously getting on your nerves. But there was nothing you could do about it, she was important to the mission and therefore you had no choice but to suck it up. The next few hours until dinner were complete utter hell. Genuinely awful. Stacey seems to be getting worse by the minute, anytime Tan just tolerated her god awful flirting it encouraged her to get more and more into it. You had to leave the room once she playfully punched his arm.

You lean against the wall feeling nothing but pure envy. You weren’t envious that Tangerine didn’t care to flirt back, but you were envious that she had the courage. Admitting you’re jealous in turn made you aware that you did in fact feel something for Tan. It wasn’t simple, and you knew loving someone like him wouldn’t be straightforward. It’s not like he’s the most loving man to walk the planet, so you wouldn’t even be guaranteed commitment, and you also acknowledged that you couldnt watch him leave for work and not worry sick. But that wasn’t the point. The point was you had been too proud and now some brainless fuck is there all over him, all over your Tan.

“Everything okay?” Lemons voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“Yeah, just can’t sit through that. It’s painfully embarrassing.”

Lemon laughs in agreement, he also looked as traumatised as you. You couldn’t understand how Tangerine couldn’t see right through it, it surprised you how such a smart man could be so fucking blind. On that thought the door opens and Tangerine walks out.

“What are you two doing. Planning some fucking dance party?”

“Exactly what we’re doing.” You respond. Tangerine shakes his head.

“Seriously though what are you doing?”

“Talking about your girlfriend.” You respond.

“My girlfriend?” Tangerine pulls a puzzled expression. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Fuck me you’re so stupid.” You put a hand to your forehead. “Do you not see how badly she wants to fuck you?”

“Jealous?” Tangerine raises his brows.

“…no.”

“She’s a proper diesel.” Lemon adds.

“What did I fucking tell you? Hm?” Tangerine sighs, Lemon shrugs in response. “No fucking Thomas talk for fuck sake.” Tangerine throws his arms up in exasperation. You and Lemon share a side glance, someone wasn’t happy.

———————————————————————

You strap you knife to your thigh as you readjust your skirt. You fix your outfit and reapply your lipstick, just as you do that you get a knock on the door. You open the door to see Tangerine, you smile and step aside to let him in. He walks in and sits on the foot of your bed.

“Just let me get my shoes on.” You say, you slip your shoes on and grab your bag.

“You brush up well.” Tangerine teases.

“Can’t say the same for you,” you taunt him as you both walk out the door.

You walk down to dinner together, you arms linked. You couldn’t help but smile the entire way there, it felt stupid to be so into him but at this point there was no denying it you just thanked your lucky stars that you weren’t around Stacey. Poor Lemon you thought, you wondered what they would even be talking out. You two arrive at the restaurant and like a true gentleman Tangerine pulls your chair out for you, you can’t help but laugh and he even cracks a smile.

“Aren’t you a joy.” You tease.

“Only the best for my fiancée.”

“Everything but a ring,” you tut, he rolls his eyes at you and you get halfway through your meal when Lemon sends you the code.

“Come on. Lemon wants us,” you both gather your things and walk towards the kitchen.

Getting in this time is much easier considering Tangerine knows the code, the chef is more than happy to welcome you two to the casino. The smell of cigars and whiskey hit you like a brick, not pleasant at all. You hold onto Tangerines arm and you walk to the Poker table. You sit across from Lemon and Stacey, on your right are two guys and on Tan’s left is another pair of men. You start to play a game and you’re surprised to see Tangerine is good at this, or at least that’s what you thought considering you’d never played poker before and had absolutely no idea what to do. So you let him do it all. Tangerine gives the indication and all four of you stand and go behind a guy. You lean down and whisper into his ear.

“What’s your name?” Your breath cool against the warmth his skin radiates. He tells you his name, and hum contently in response then slice his jugular. Killing him instantly. You wipe the blood that you got onto your hand on his suit jacket. The other three also killed their men, and without drawing attention to anyone else in the room. There were another five guys.

“(Y/N) go to those two, show them your tits or something.” Tangerine says, pointing to the men sitting at the jackpot slots.

“Oh how charming are you.” You scoff and make your way over to the men. You sit in between them and like the creeps they were they seemed not to mind at all. You leaned into the guy on your left, “what’s your name?” Another one on the list, “and yours?” You ask the guy on your right. Again on the list. “Great!” You smile.

You listen to them mansplain the odds of winning and how gambolling was a thrill. You nodded along, batting your eyes at them. That was until you killed them both. You walk to Tangerine, he killed the seventh guy. Only one left on the list, but you had to kill the other man there of course. You hear some struggling and look over your shoulder to see Stacey being choked up against the wall. You sigh and go over there, you floor the man who had her up against the wall. Straddle his chest and slit his throat.

Lemon takes care of the remaining man and you all walk out untouched. You liked jobs like that, easy and non-problematic plus you were getting paid a fuck ton for this. The four of you went back to the men’s room with a celebratory bottle of champagne.

“Wait.. how won’t we get caught?” Stacey asks, you sigh as you’ve explained this four times already. Apparently two glasses of champagne has her incoherent.

“For the fifth and final time. Our names were not on the guest book. Only one man’s name was. Of fucking course he’s going to be blamed for this.” You snap. This made her cry. She tried to get reassurance off of Tangerine but he didn’t even respond to her wails. Ten minutes into her diva meltdown she walks out of the room and into her own. You could cry in relief.

“Thank fuck.” Tangerine remarks. You look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Thought she wasn’t so bad?”

“Changed my mind, she’s a fucking nightmare.”

“A true diesel.”

“Whatever makes you happy.” You reply to Lemon.

The three of you finish the bottle and spend the next hour talking, mainly ripping into Stacey but not just. Eventually you left their room and went to bed, Stacey was already asleep.

———————————————————————

Tangerines car pulls up outside your place and you get out of the car. This time instead of Lemon helping you with your stuff Tan does. He gets your stuff out of the boot and walks you to your door.

“Thank you Tan.” You smile as you unlock the door.

“I’ll set your stuff inside.” He walks in with you and sets your suitcase on the marble floor.

“So Stacey..?”

“Stacey what?”

“Are you following up with it or?”

“…are you having a fucking laugh?”

You roll your eyes in response, a grin cracking at your lips. “She’s not really your type anyways.”

“Yeah? What’s my type love.” Tan smirks.

“You need someone like yourself, someone who’s not over the top and annoying.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” You look down at the ground as you bite back a smile.

Tangerines hand lifts your chin then all of a sudden he’s grabbing your hips and then his lips are on yours, passionately kissing you. You slide a hand into his hair as you open your mouth, his tongue enters your mouth, fighting your own for dominance. You tug on his hair causing him to bite your lip, you groan as he pulls you closer. The sound of the car horn blaring startles you and you pull back. You let out an airy laugh as his hands release your waist.

“You should go.”

“Yeah, Lemon must be pissed.”

“Alright. Bye Tan.”

“Bye love.”

He walks out the door and you take a moment to stand there and process what just happened. You weren’t sure what this meant for you both but you could only hope it would turn into something, and your hoping came true.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine fic #tangerine #tangerine and lemon #bullet train #jealous reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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eastwindmlk · 5 months ago

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Okay this is a long one again. Oops! Day 12 of @jilytoberfest is a continuation of this Jily week drabble. It is 200 words if you want to read it, but you don't have to. Prompt: "sometimes I wonder if you're in love with me." Word Count: 1138

With a little encouragement from his friends and a healthy layer of bravado to cover his nerves, James strode along the Gryffindor table towards Lily. She was looking particularly pretty today with a mulberry-coloured scarf in her hair. Even from where he sat James had noticed how the colour complimented her auburn hair, making her look like an autumnal goddess and how it brought out her eyes even more.

Something that struck him like a tonne of bricks when those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes found him approaching and he swore they lid up for him. James lifted his hand in greeting, “Alright Evans?”

Lily rolled her eyes at that, but the corners of her lips seemed to twitch up affectionately, her body turning his way, giving him her full attention. “How can I help, Potter?” Her tongue caressed his name fondly, something it had not always done and it made his stomach do… Something. It wasn’t quite lurching, but not unlike it either.

“I just wanted to come over to chat with my favourite girl,” he paused for just a moment and realized what had just come out of his mouth. He wasn’t sure how they’d made it past his filter and no matter how much he wanted to stammer out a correction. Tell her he meant Head Girl, he could not get himself to form the words. Like his tongue was physically refusing to lie.

At this, Lily’s eyebrows slid up her forehead, her arms crossing under her chest in a way that made it impossible not to look at the way the buttons on her shirt started to strain. “Favourite girl?” she repeated a hint of amusement in her tone.

James took a deep breath to start again but the carefully selected words twisted right before they left his mouth to a more truthful version. “Yes, you’re the most intelligent, beautiful and terrifying woman I have ever met. Whenever you’re near something snaps inside of me and I say and do the stupidest things. I should probably apologize for that,” he rambled and cursed his loose tongue.

To her credit, Lily maintained her mildly amused look. She did not seem to be judging him too harshly. Her eyes flickered past him for a moment and he twisted his torso to follow her gaze. There he found his friends were too interested in their interaction, even more than usual, their full attention on the pair of them. “Think they’re up to something?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in the direction of the boys.

“They usually are,” James agreed, though normally he did not think too much of it. His friends often were up to something. His hands tapped various places on his body to check if they’d managed anything odd. Not particularly fancying having something like a cat tail or a poorly transfigured moustache. It seemed, though, that it was nothing like that. “I am not sure what it is this time though. Do I look weird?”

Lily hummed thoughtfully before shaking her head, the tension ebbing off his shoulders. “Maybe on your back. Turn around,” she commanded and James was happy to oblige. “Why do you think they would do something?” Her arms relaxed and she leaned toward him to get a better look.

He pulled up a shoulder, not meaning to say anything else but the words tumbled from his mouth before he could do anything about it. “They encouraged me to go and talk to you and frankly that should have raised some concerns.”

“So, you wanted to go talk to me but you didn’t? Why?”

James knew he shouldn’t be saying anything but the words spilled out again without his permission. “I always want to come talk to you, but I had nothing much to say. Well, I had plenty I wanted to say but nothing I should be saying, really. Like now.” He could smack himself for letting his words get away from him. He’d never been quite this bad.

James could practically see the wheels in her head turning, working towards a conclusion that he was starting to reach as well. The answer was on the tip of his tongue but unlike his words, it did not want to come out.

Lily’s eyes sparkled at him mischievously, dangerously as her gentle smile turned devious smirk. “You just came to see your favourite girl, then?” she posed like she was trying to see if he would incriminate himself once more. And he did.

“I would do it every meal, but I am pretty sure that you’ll bite my head off,” he admitted and let his fingers tangle into his hair, hoping to clear his head from whatever made him unable to keep the truth off his lips.

There was something going on, he knew that much. Between his verbal incontinence and his friends giggling like a bunch of morons, it wasn’t hard to connect them to whatever was going on right now. They’d done something if only he knew what he might be able to stop himself.

The penny was in the air if only it would drop. Preferably before he would say something more. Before she could make him say something more. With her half-lidded eyes and fluttering lashes that made his heart race.

“You don’t bother me nearly as much as you think you do,” she assured him, though her words did nothing to soothe his worries, not when the words were already stumbling towards his lips, ready to dive off his tongue before he could stop them.

Even knowing, well strongly suspecting, that there had been veritaserum in his pumpkin juice did nothing to stop him. “Sometimes I wonder if you're in love with me,” he admitted and to make things worse was that his sentence did not stop there. “Because I am. In love. With you. Not myself, I am not that narcissistic, not that I thought you’d think that any longer. A year or two ago maybe.” He cut himself off by biting down on the heel of his hand.

In his silence, he learned that it was not just them and their friends listening in, but most of the school as well. There was a wolf whistle from the Ravenclaw table and gagging sounds from the Slytherin one. Everywhere in between there were whispers and giggles. James’ cheeks heated and he offered Lily a pained smile.

He had thoroughly made a fool of himself and it was then and only then that his friends decided to come to his rescue. Firm hands on his shoulders as they steered him away. “That’s enough out of you,” Sirius muttered, apologizing to Lily and marching them down the table.

“Potter?” Lily’s voice carried over the din and he craned his neck to look at her. “Sometimes I think that too!”

#jily #james potter #lily evans #jily fic #jple #jilytober2024

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stevieharringtonwifeguy · 2 years ago

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after my post about steve being just as obsessed with eddie as he is with him, i had to write something for it. with a little extra transfem!stevie flavour bc i have a serious problem

also on ao3 here

Robin has had enough. She’s spent all this time telling Stevie she’d always be there for her, but this is where she draws the line.

Stevie’s staring at Eddie Munson again.

Robin looked up from her shitty cafeteria food when she heard a dreamy sigh come from her best friend. Stevie had that look on her face again, the hopelessly besotted one that made Robin sure cartoony little love hearts would start popping up next to her head. Robin followed her eyeline and, yep, there was Eddie Munson, super-senior leader of the dungeons and dragons club, sticking carrot sticks up his nose to the uproarious laughter of his group of nerd friends. Robin shook her head in appalled fascination.

“Stevie. Babes. Why.”

Stevie turned towards her, tilting her head in confusion. “Huh? Why what?”

Robin waved a hand towards Eddie’s table. “Your obsession with Eddie Munson. It baffles me.”

“Wh- I mean-” Stevie flushed, looking back across the cafeteria with a shy little smile. “Just look at him, Robs.”

“Yeah, I’m looking. He’s trying to sneeze out a carrot stick he got stuck in his nose.”

Stevie giggled. “I know, he’s so funny!”

Shaking her head, Robin placed a delicate hand on her friend’s arm. “You don’t have to do this, y’know. I know pickings have been slim since you came out, but like. You’re still a catch! You have options!”

Stevie frowns. Robin hadn’t wanted to say it, but she knew Stevie had taken her ‘fall from grace’ after she transitioned pretty hard. She’d gone from King of Hawkins High to near social untouchable, and the whiplash had her privately confessing to Robin that sometimes she felt unlovable, like no one would ever want her again. It was ridiculous, but Robin understood that insecurity. She combatted it by complimenting Stevie whenever she could. And now by trying to dissuade her best friend from falling ass over tits in love with the first weirdo to be nice to her post-transition.

“It’s not that. He’s just so…” Stevie waved her hands around vaguely, searching for a word to accurately describe the apparent wonder that was Eddie Munson. Across the cafeteria, Eddie finally got the carrot stick out of his nose. He threw it towards the bin a foot away and missed, spectacularly. “He’s himself. It’s nice.”

“He’s himself.”

“Yeah! Like, he’s passionate about everything he does, and he’s not afraid of being judged for anything. It’s nice! Most people aren’t like that.”

“Most people are definitely not like Eddie Munson.”

Stevie rolled her eyes at her friend’s flat tone. “Plus, he’s super hot. And you can’t say anything about that one- you’re too gay to be an accurate judge.”

Robin groaned. “Steph, he dresses like an 80s vampire.”

“He has a distinct style!”

“It’s distinct alright- hey!”

Stevie had apparently had enough of Robin’s bitching, reaching over and trapping her in a loving sisterly headlock. They scrapped for a couple minutes, nearly knocking both their lunches off the cafeteria table, before being interrupted with a light cough.

Both girls looked up, Stevie immediately blushing a gentle pink as Eddie Munson appeared before them. He seemed nervous, fiddling with his rings and chewing on his lip. Robin watched the two stare at each other, and oh god. Eddie was down just as bad as Stevie was. He giggled a little manically at Stevie’s attention, pulling a lock of hair in front of his face and hiding behind it.

“Hi, Eddie,” Stevie said in a little breathless tone that had Robin about five seconds away from face-palming. She considered pulling out her phone and recording this conversation, just so that next time Dustin implied Stevie was some kind of goddess of romance Robin could show him the dumb little face she made as she stared at Eddie Munson’s chapped lips. “What’s up?”

Eddie smiled, shuffling his feet a little. “Um, so, my band is playing this Thursday- oh! Wait, I got you something-” He rummaged around in his bag for a second, cursing under his breath, before he finally pulled out a slightly crumpled looking sunflower and presented it to Stevie with a flourish. “A sunflower! Just reminded me of you- because you’re so sunny. Also it kind of matches that sweater you like.”

Stevie’s grin was blinding. She took the flower like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Oh my god! This is- Eddie this is beautiful!”

Eddie grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet a little bit, as if Stevie’s acceptance of his gift had filled him with so much happiness he was in danger of floating away. It was, unfortunately, the cutest thing Robin had ever seen.

“A beautiful flower for a beautiful girl,” he said, and the cringiness of the line had Robin taking back every positive thing she’d ever thought about him. Stevie seemed to enjoy it though, if the pleased blush that spread over her face was any indication. “But I wanted to ask you- totally cool if not, I know it’s not really your style- but I’ve been practising some new songs for y- I’ve been practising some new songs. So, yeah, if you wanted-”

“Eddie,” Stevie interrupted, smiling up at him and placing a gentle hand on his arm. Eddie turned bright red. “Thursday, right? It sounds fun, I’d love to come watch you play.”

“Really? Great! I can pick you up at seven?”

Stevie nodded happily, bringing the sunflower to her face and turning back to Eddie with another besotted grin. “Seven sounds perfect! I’ll see you then! Just let me- I’m gonna go put this in my locker so it doesn’t get squished, but- yeah, I’m really looking forward to it!”

Stevie stood up, grabbing her bag, and hurrying out of the cafeteria. When she reached the door, she turned back and gave Eddie a happy little wave, which he returned with a sort of dazed look on his face. As soon as she was out of the door, he did a weird little jump/fist-bump combination with a loud whoop that had everyone in the immediate vicinity looking over at him.

Robin cleared her throat pointedly.

Eddie looked at her with a sort of deer-in-headlights expression that honestly she appreciated. Let him be scared of her. “So,” she said. “You’re taking my best friend out.”

Eddie blushed a bit, smiling despite his apparent survival instinct. “Yeah,” he said, dreamily. “God, she’s so out of my league.”

“She is.”

“She’s just so… wow.”

“Eloquent.”

“One time I saw her bodily lift that curly-haired kid she babysits out of the way of a car. Like fully carry him a foot off the ground for five steps. And then yell at him for like ten minutes for being a dumbass. What a woman.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, shit,” he said, looking down at Robin with a panicked look on his face. “You’re like, her sister basically, right? Was I supposed to get your permission to ask her out? Wait, no, that’s marriage. Later, then.”

“Okay, that’s enough of this,” Robin said, throwing her hands up and stalking out of the cafeteria, leaving a befuddled looking Eddie behind her.

They were just as bad as each other. Robin had a feeling she’d be cringing at those two at their wedding.

#steddie #transfem steve harrington #stevie harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #also keen eyed readers may notice how much i stole from the notes of that post everyone is so right and hilarious #my fics

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ginnsbaker · 2 years ago

Text

Maybe You Were The Ocean

Summary: Wanda was... an open-ended chapter in your life.

Word count: 6.3k+ | Tags: Heavy Angst, Character Death, Bittersweet ending

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by @gingiesworld:

Y/N and Wanda have been together for a while and Pietro calls Y/N one night, needing a lift home from a friends party. On that night they get hit by another drunk driver and Pietro dies on impact. As time goes on and the other driver is arrested, y/n still blames themselves for Pietro's death. Even though Wanda continuously tries to tell them otherwise but they won't listen. They then yell at her "why don't you blame me? You should hate me for your brother dying." Before walking out. Can be either a happy or sad ending buddy. Whichever you decide

Author's note: I changed some minor details in the request, hope you don't mind Gingie. Thank you for this gut-wrenching monster, it allowed me to practice writing in past tense (so out of my comfort zone lol). Title is from "black flies" by ben howard, listen to that as well when you read ;)

Masterlist

Now

You haven't been to something like this in what seems like ages.

That something being a wedding.

And if you were to keep count, you'd realize you've been to more funerals than weddings in your lifetime so far.

Your best friend looks like a goddess in her white dress—and anyone with eyes can see that the groom is the luckiest man on earth.

You’re fixing your hair in front of the mirror when she approaches, wearing a smile that you’ve never seen on her, a smile you’d never be able to put on her lips yourself. It’s a smile reserved for him—that lucky bastard.

She gently taps on your shoulder. “You’re going to make me cry if you keep looking so stunning,” she teases, her voice light with laughter.

You chuckle, your eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “It's your day, and nothing can overshadow how beautiful you look.”

“Promise me something,” she says suddenly, her bright eyes locking onto yours.

“Anything,” you reply without hesitation.

“Promise me that you won’t stop looking for this kind of happiness. Promise me you'll find someone who puts that same smile on your face,” she whispers.

Your throat tightens, words caught somewhere between heartache and hope. “I promise.”

Then

You were eight years old when you moved to a new neighborhood.

At that age, it felt like the scariest thing that had ever happened to you. Your parents divorced, your mother got full custody, and once the judge made that call, she packed up everything familiar and moved you to a new state: New Jersey.

It was what she could manage back then. This place was nothing like the spacious suburbs you remembered, and your new apartment building seemed no bigger than your old living room back in California. The place had just one bedroom, and it was hard to tell where the dining area stopped and the kitchen started.

You resented her in the way a child might, not fully grasping responsibility or consequences. You were upset she took you away from your friends and the comfort of your old life. You didn’t see back then the bruises hidden beneath her shirt, the ones your father left. You only learned about them when you turned eighteen. By then, your resentment had faded long ago.

A week after moving into that aged building, you encountered the twins next door, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. Initially, you met Pietro when his mother sent him over with some food to welcome you and your mom to the neighborhood. It wasn't until you and Pietro became inseparable friends, spending every possible moment together, that you met Wanda.

When you did meet her, you weren't fond of her. She seemed aloof and mostly kept to herself. Unlike her expressive brother, Wanda seldom voiced her thoughts, making conversations with her feel uninspiring.

You and Pietro often clashed with Wanda over the television. You both wanted to play video games while Wanda preferred her sitcoms. Pietro would let Wanda watch her shows briefly before forcefully switching channels just to annoy her. Eventually, Wanda would retreat to her room in tears, and Pietro would steel himself for a reprimand when their mother returned home.

You would give Wanda a piece of chocolate because you felt bad, but you never asked Pietro to stop, fearing he might stop being your best friend. In return, Wanda would lend you her pocketbooks you’d never quite finish.

You hadn't realized it back then, but that dynamic would continue well into your teen years. With Pietro stirring up trouble left and right, you being caught in the middle, and Wanda, from a distance, observing you with cautious interest—perhaps wishing it had been her who brought the welcoming food instead of her brother.

Now

The wedding isn’t going to start for another hour. There have been delays due to the weather.

With the archways and open corridors adorned with blooming flowers and drapes, the venue looks nothing short of magical, even with the looming clouds. From where you stand, you extend your arm, letting the light drizzle kiss your skin. Each droplet feels like nature's way of playing with the day's emotions—adding both melancholy and charm.

Someone nearby remarks, “You know it's considered good luck when it rains on one's wedding day.”

You merely smile politely in response.

“Are you a friend of the bride’s or the groom's?”

“The bride,” you reply.

“Oh, fantastic! Maybe you can convince her to finally see she’s way out of his league!”

You shake your head at the joke. It’s not even the first time you've heard it today.

Then

It wasn't until you were fifteen and Pietro, seventeen, that the troubles you found yourselves in became more serious.

It had also been a few months since Pietro introduced you to drugs other than weed. At first, it was just an occasional joint passed around at a party or behind the school building. But Pietro wanted to try riskier substances. You weren't as keen but didn't want to be left behind by your best friend.

One evening, after trying something a bit harder than usual, you and Pietro were wandering the streets, laughing way too loud. In his intoxicated state, Pietro suddenly swung at a parked car with his bat, smashing it. Almost immediately, patrol lights shone bright, and stern police voices could be heard from almost everywhere. Pietro got cornered, but sheer panic made you bolt. Ditching your best friend felt terrible, but the terrifying thought of jail—especially knowing the mess it'd be for your already stretched-thin mom—made you keep running.

Still shaken, you made your way to Pietro's apartment, knowing you had to be the one to tell his mother. Her reaction was a storm of emotions—anger, fear, desperation. She demanded you stay with Wanda while she went to confront the nightmare at the police station.

“I think I'll just head home,” you murmured to Wanda, not wanting to impose any further.

She glanced at you, her eyes searching. “Have you had dinner?”

You hesitated, then lied. “Yeah, I ate earlier.” The truth was your mom had been away for work for three days, and the fridge was almost bare.

The small home you came to know felt overwhelmingly spacious as you sat alone, burdened by the guilt of having left your best friend behind. But mere minutes after sinking into your worn-out couch, a knock came at your door. Opening it, you found Wanda, a bowl of steaming paprikash in her hands and a soft smile on her lips.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

Your face lit up in relief at the sight of the food, more grateful than you could express. Just as you were about to thank her, your stomach betrayed you with an embarrassingly loud growl. Wanda let out a genuine laugh, and for a brief moment, you felt like a burden had been lifted.

“Guess I was right,” she teased, handing you the bowl.

As you eagerly began eating, Wanda settled opposite you, her expression growing serious again. “What were you two even thinking tonight?” she asked softly.

Swallowing, you sighed, “I tried to stop him, Wanda. But I couldn't talk him out of it.”

Wanda looked down, her fingers playing with a loose thread on the couch. “I don't blame you,” she finally said, her voice gentle, “I never do. In fact, I sometimes wonder how much worse he might've been without you around.”

A moment of silence hung between the two of you before Wanda whispered, more to herself than to you, “I'm so worried about next year.”

Curiously, you looked up from your food, "What do you mean?"

“Pietro's turning eighteen. He was supposed to get a baseball scholarship, but with this run in with the police, that’s probably hanging in the balance now…” she trailed off.

Your heart sank. You had known Pietro had big dreams tied to that scholarship, dreams that now seemed to be teetering on the brink. "And what about you, Wanda? What's your plan?"

Wanda took a deep breath, and her face lit up slightly, “I got accepted into Columbia. It's amazing, really. But…” She sighed, looking down, “Even with the scholarship they offered, I can't afford it. Plus, with everything going on, I think I need to be here, help Mom out, you know?”

“That's tough,” you whispered, feeling a pang of sadness for the bright future she might be putting on hold.

She nodded, “I'm thinking of starting work and maybe attending community college for a bit. It's not Columbia, but it's something.”

“That's... that's just unfair,” you whispered, setting down your bowl, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “If there's anyone who deserves to be at Columbia, Wanda, it's you.”

Wanda looked up, her eyes filled with something you didn’t recognize.

“I wish things were different,” you continued. “I've always thought of you as one of the most intelligent people I know. And not just smart, but kind... genuinely kind.”

She took in your words, the distance between you two closing slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving yours.

Then, with a flash of resolve, she inched closer. “There's something I want to do,” she began, her voice a whisper. “Something I've wanted for a long time, but it never seemed right. I don't think there'll be another perfect moment, another chance. Not after tonight.”

Before you could process her words, she was leaning in, the space between you disappearing. Your eyelids dropped, and for a heartbeat, everything else melted away as her lips met yours.

For the longest time, nothing made sense to you. That was, until Wanda Maximoff kissed you.

Now

Your best friend's walk down the aisle feels like the longest part of the ceremony–at least to you. The sight is so magical that time seems to stand still. When you snap back to reality, the priest is asking if there's anyone in the crowd who wishes to object to the marriage.

Nobody breaks the silence which lasts a mere two seconds. It's a rarity these days for anyone to object. They only happen now in movies. Modern weddings are more intimate, almost closed-door affairs. The guest list is meticulously curated, ensuring anyone with a complex history with the bride or groom remains absent.

You watch the ceremony unfold, every word, every shared glance, making you feel more trapped by the promise you made earlier. You'd promised to chase that very kind of happiness, the kind that was unfolding right in front of you. Yet as you watch, there's this nagging feeling at the back of your mind, asking if you ever really will.

What they have feels like a world apart from where you're seated.

You try to be genuinely happy for your best friend, and on many levels, you are. But you–you’re the last person to believe you deserve even a fraction of such a miracle.

Then

The kiss, as Wanda had promised, never happened again.

At least not for the duration they remained neighbors. Soon after, she and Pietro moved to another town for their studies. As for you, you and your mother also moved shortly after their departure, to a nicer neighborhood that’s closer to Manhattan where you also transferred schools.

For five years, you didn't see either of them. No calls. Nothing on social media. But that didn't stop them from occasionally drifting into your thoughts. Especially that memory of your first kiss.

That was until one night, while dining alone in a midscale Soho restaurant, you looked up to find Wanda as your server.

She wore a simple black uniform that most servers donned, but she carried it with an elegance that made her stand out. For a moment, you thought she didn't recognize you, as she professionally presented the menu and described the evening's specials without missing a beat. But then, as she was turning to leave your table, she paused and looked directly into your eyes.

“It's been a long time,” she said, her voice becoming more familiar as she shed her professional facade.

You nodded, struggling to find the right words. “Yeah, it really has. I didn't expect to see you here.”

She smiled, a little sadly. “Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes. I... well, I needed a job while I finish my degree.”

You both chatted briefly, catching up on lost time, but Wanda was called away to attend to other patrons. As she bustled about, you found it difficult to focus on your meal, your gaze repeatedly drawn to her fluid movements around the room. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and she'd offer a fleeting smile, a touch of color rising to her cheeks.

After a while, you signaled for the check. Wanda was quick to bring it over, her fingers brushing against yours as she handed it to you.

“How's Pietro?” you asked tentatively.

Wanda hesitated, her eyes betraying her composure. “He was released from prison about a month ago,” she began, taking a deep breath. “It was tough, but he's doing better now. Trying to change, you know? And he... he misses you.”

Baseball never happened for him. College too. You wished you hadn’t lost your connection together. Perhaps you could have made a difference.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured. “Life just... took over.”

Wanda nodded with understanding, but remained silent.

As you prepared to leave, Wanda slipped a note along with your bill. It read, “It was good to see you again. Maybe we shouldn't wait another five years?”

Beneath these words, Wanda had also written down her phone number.

You waited a total of three days to call Wanda.

Wanda was... an open-ended chapter in your life. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been with other women since she stole your first kiss, but she remained a persistent afterthought in every relationship of yours that ended.

It didn't help that you'd left a bookmark in her chapter, aware that revisiting it had the potential to alter the trajectory of everything.

The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, it's me,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if she would recognize your voice after all these years, “From the restaurant, the other night?”

There was a brief pause, then her tone softened, “I hoped you'd call.”

You were grinning so hard that it didn’t occur to you that you hadn’t responded to her in a while when she gently teased, “Took you long enough.”

“Three days isn’t that long,” you defended with a slight chuckle.

“Well, in the grand scheme of things, no. But in the context of us? It felt like an eternity,” she admitted.

And it truly felt that way. Finding Wanda over the past several years hadn't been impossible or even especially hard. Yet, both of you had consciously let things drift. You had navigated through college, and Wanda, well, she'd been engaged in whatever endeavors she had pursued.

But that night, it felt right to call her. And you hadn’t realized you were waiting to find her again.

You and Wanda scheduled to meet some time during the week and the conversation should’ve ended there. But neither of you wanted to hang up, and Wanda quickly asked about your college experience and the new neighborhood you'd settled into after their departure. By the time you both ended the call, nearly two hours had passed, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

It was evident; the bookmark you'd placed hadn't lost its page and it was easy to ease once more into its pages.

Now

The sun has set when the newly-wedded couple finally arrives at the reception.

You're seated at a table filled with strangers, but your best friend made sure to place you next to a woman she's been raving about—one she's suggested more than once you should date.

Her name is Natasha and she’s gorgeous beyond words. She's so striking that you find yourself wondering if she's even your type. Typically, you've steered clear of people who seem universally more attractive than you, a defense mechanism to sidestep lingering insecurities from over the years.

But as she leans into your personal space, you can’t help but respond to every question and laugh at every joke she throws your way.

Maybe it’s safe to let yourself enjoy this, even just for tonight.

Then

It was scarcely two weeks since that encounter with Wanda at the restaurant, and there you were, in her bed.

It was cramped and the air conditioning kept failing many times during the day.

But you didn’t care.

You had known this woman for almost your entire life, and you'd waited just as long to be in her bed like this: with your arm growing numb under her weight, her head resting on your chest, and your nose buried in her hair.

She stirred slightly, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest. “Did you ever think...?” she began, voice hesitant.

“Think what?” you prompted, adjusting slightly so you could see her face.

“That we'd end up here, like this?” she whispered, her eyes searching yours.

You smiled, thinking back. “I don't know if I let myself think about it. But I hoped.”

She chuckled softly, her breath warm against your skin. “I had a feeling you'd say that.”

The sheets beneath you were thin and had seen better days, but it didn't matter. The world outside, with its faint hum of city life, seemed so far away. Yet, the world outside seemed irrelevant. All that mattered was the rhythm of her breathing syncing with yours and the warmth of her body next to you.

Every so often, she'd shift, mumbling half-formed sentences that would make you chuckle.

“Is the penguin wearing a bowtie?” she murmured in her half-asleep state.

You laughed softly. “What penguin?”

“The one in my dream,” she mumbled, snuggling closer to you. “He's quite the gentleman.”

“Sounds like a classy penguin,” you teased.

She smiled faintly, her eyes still closed. “He reminds me of you, in a way.”

“Oh? So, I'm a penguin now?” you quipped, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“In the best way,” she whispered, pulling you closer. “My dapper penguin.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Only you would dream of something like that.”

“And only you,” she murmured, lips against your chest, “Would be there in that dream with me.”

While Wanda seamlessly reintegrated into your life, with Pietro, however, things weren't as straightforward. His past, speckled with run-ins with the law and a battle against addiction, made you and Wanda wary of him, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You could tell he was on the mend though, especially when six months into your relationship with Wanda, Pietro was able to hold a job for that same duration. Yet, his living situation with Wanda was far from ideal. Their apartment was snug, to say the least. His room was barely big enough to fit his bed.

You wished you could help, but with college expenses looming over you, your hands were tied. The thought of asking Wanda to move in with you played on your mind constantly. It seemed like the ideal solution: she would have a more stable environment, and Pietro could fully occupy the apartment, giving him some semblance of independence.

“What do you think about moving in with me? I know it's soon, but…” you asked her one night in the quiet confines of your dorm room.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to live here with you,” Wanda said, a bit amused at your suggestion.

“I didn’t mean here,” you replied. “I meant finding an apartment for the two of us.”

“That’s just adding more expenses, Y/N. I can’t let you do that when you can stay here without any costs,” Wanda countered.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It's not about the money, Wands. It's about... us. Having a place of our own. And it would also give Pietro the whole apartment.”

Wanda's eyes met yours, searching for a hidden meaning. “Are you saying that because of Pietro? You think he's a burden?”

You quickly shook your head. “No, no, it's not that. I just... I see how much you worry about him.”

Your fingers found hers, lacing together as you both sat on the edge of your bed. “I get it,” you began, exhaling softly, “But I thought about Pietro too. He’d have the apartment all to himself. More space, more independence.”

Wanda's eyebrows knit together in concern. “And what if he…” she hesitated, searching for the right words, “Relapses or needs me?”

You tightened your grip around her hand. “We wouldn't be too far, Wanda. And maybe giving him that space and trust will help him more than you think.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I know you're thinking of what's best for all of us, but Pietro's situation has always been so... fragile.”

Wanda looked at you, her eyes filled with emotion. “I'll think about it,” she whispered.

“Take your time,” you replied, pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Whatever you decide, I'm with you every step of the way.”

“Promise me,” Wanda said, her eyes hardening, like she’s on the verge of tears or something worse. “Promise you’ll be with me always.”

You leaned in, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Always.”

Now

“It’s not everyday you find the person you’ll be spending the rest of your life with.”

Short and sweet, but that's your whole speech, cliches and all.

“I never thought I'd see the day,” you start, nodding towards the newlyweds with a smirk. “But hey, miracles happen.” You raise your champagne glass. “To two people who finally figured it out. Cheers.”

Your best friend laughs, rolling her eyes affectionately at you. “Trust you to keep things real,” she murmurs, clinking her glass with yours.

And that’s when you see her, amongst the cheering crowds.

In the middle of all the people, she stands out. Always has. It doesn't matter where or when, you can always spot her. Your heart skips a beat, just like it always does. It's like everyone else fades a bit, and she's the only one in focus.

Wanda Maximoff.

Pristine in a scarlet trumpet gown, her hair pulled into a tight, strict bun. A few stray tendrils of hair have escaped the bun, framing her face in a way that gives her an almost ethereal quality.

As you take a moment to really look at her, you notice the fine details. The way the light catches the small diamond earrings she wears, making them shimmer just so. The delicate curve of her collarbone, revealed by the gown's off-the-shoulder design. And her eyes—always her captivating eyes–that hold an entire galaxy, scanning the room until they land on you.

The shock in her eyes mirrors yours, and for a moment, everything else blurs. Your legs wobble, threatening to give way beneath you. The room's atmosphere grows thick, or perhaps you're just struggling to catch your breath.

Beside you, the bride and your best friend, Maria, notices your sudden change in demeanor and follows your gaze to its source.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

You manage a shaky head shake in response, pushing through the crowd to escape the room. But you can hear Maria, not too far behind, calling after you.

Then

“So, Maria,” Wanda began once your friend had left and it was just the two of you in the cafe. You had been so keen for the two of them to meet. But with Maria spending a whole semester in Germany as an exchange student, their only prior meeting had been a brief video call that interrupted one of your dates with Wanda.

“How did you two get so close?”

“Did I never tell you about that?”

Wanda shook her head, taking a sip from her now lukewarm cappuccino.

“Freshman year. We were looking for this book and it only had one copy in the school library, and believe it or not, we reached for it at the same time,” you recounted with a wistful smile.

Wanda's face shifted ever so slightly, a change you didn't quite catch.

“We both really needed it badly, so we promised to take turns using it, and we ended up studying together for weeks.”

“That sounds like something out of a movie,” Wanda mused, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

“It kind of felt like that,” you admitted, laughing softly. “From bickering about who would get the book on Mondays to sharing our notes and coffee breaks. Before we knew it, we were inseparable.”

Wanda hummed, her eyes flitting restlessly around you.

“What is it?”

Wanda shrugged. “Nothing.”

You frowned slightly, knowing her well enough to see past her facade. “Wands, come on,” you coaxed. “Talk to me.”

She looked away for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “It's just... it's hard sometimes, hearing about these memories you shared with someone else, when I wish I had been there with you.”

“Wanda,” you began gently, “There are moments in your past that I wasn't a part of. But what matters is now. Right here, with you.”

She sighed, her posture deflating a little. “I know. It's silly, isn't it? To be jealous of a close friend of yours.”

“If it makes you feel this way, then it's valid, no matter how silly you think it might be,” you assured her.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Growing up, our worlds were confined to that same apartment building. The people, the routines, everything was predictable. And now... being out in the world, seeing you connect with others, it's just... intimidating. And, honestly, a little scary.”

You paused, smirking a bit. “You know,” you began, but Wanda cut in, “What?”

“It's just...Do you even know how happy you make me?” you said, a bit sheepishly.

She looked like she was about to say something, but you quickly added, “Seriously, Wands.”

Wanda blinked, clearly taken aback. “You have this strange way of turning things around,” she said with a soft chuckle, her face turning a shade pinker.

“Because I love you.”

Neither of you had said it up until now. And it’s quickly evident that it was the right thing to say, at the right moment.

She took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with her cup. “You always jump in headfirst, don't you?” Then, looking up into your eyes, she added softly, “I love you too.”

You grinned, feeling a weight lifted. “Took you long enough.”

Now

The grand ballroom doors open with a soft whoosh, the muted melodies of a string quartet drifting into the cool night. You step out quickly, breathing in deep gulps of fresh air, your heart pounding against your ribcage. Memories of Wanda Maximoff, which you've tried hard to keep buried, surge to the forefront of your mind.

Maria, noticing your abrupt exit, quickly follows you out. “Hey,” she calls out softly, her heels clicking on the stone path as she reaches you. “Are you okay?”

“Why is she here?” you exclaim, the pitch of your voice inching towards a sharp octave.

Maria gently grabs your arm, offering solace. “I had no idea she'd be here. I promise. She must be someone’s plus one.”

You swallow hard, trying to steady your suddenly spinning surroundings.

“Y/N?”

“I'm okay, Maria,” you say, forcing a weak smile. “Sorry about this. It's your wedding, and you shouldn't be out here with me. Go back, enjoy your day.”

She looks conflicted, torn between staying by your side and going back to her new spouse and guests.

After a moment, Maria steps forward, enveloping you in a tight hug. “Promise me you'll be okay?”

You nod, hugging her back. “That’s too many promises in one day. But yeah, I’ll be okay.”

It’s just Wanda, you tell yourself.

Just the girl who could always bring out that special smile in you—the same one Maria had when she said, “I do.”

Then

The call came unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

You and Wanda had been dozing in her room for a few hours, following a particularly exhausting fight that concluded with even more exhausting—and mind-blowing—make-up sex.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” You instantly recognized Pietro’s voice. “Hey, listen, can you pick me up? I'm at a bar,” Pietro said, his voice tinged with guilt and slight slurring. “I... I swear I didn't do anything. I got promoted to store manager and I treated a few colleagues to celebrate. I'm a bit tipsy so I... I'm sorry to bother you.”

There was a pause, and you ran a hand through your hair, exchanging a glance with Wanda who now sat up with a worried look.

“Which bar?” you asked, trying to keep yourself calm.

“Mike’s Tavern,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your keys from the nightstand. “Alright, I'm on my way. Stay put.”

Wanda frowned, her gaze conflicted. “I want to come with you,” she said, her brows furrowing together in concern and sleepiness.

“You should stay,” you said, sliding into your jeans. “It's a bit of a drive to New Jersey. You've had a long day, and you need to rest. I'll handle this.”

She bit her lip, torn, but finally nodded. “Please be safe. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“I will,” you said, leaning down to give her a brief kiss on the forehead before making your way out.

You didn't call Wanda on your way back from New Jersey, but not because nothing occurred.

Rather, something did happen, and you weren't conscious enough to make the call.

You and Pietro made it to the hospital.

Wanda was an emotional wreck, grappling with the challenge of dividing her attention between her brother in ICU and you being wheeled into a separate ward.

An hour later, she didn't need to decide any longer.

Pietro Maximoff's time of death was called just as you started regaining consciousness.

The days following Pietro's death were a blur. You'd wake up, immediately feeling the weight of the world pressing down, your every moment drenched in guilt in the form of alcohol and, sometimes, your own vomit.

Though you weren't close to Pietro anymore, he was slowly turning his life around. And while a drunk truck driver caused the accident, your own haste to get back to Wanda made you reckless.

That choice haunted you daily.

That choice made you believe that Wanda hated you in secret.

You began avoiding Wanda, her presence a haunting reminder of the brother she lost and, in a twisted way, the brother you felt responsible for losing. The relationship you cultivated turned into something that only existed as a label. Otherwise, it didn’t exist at all. It faded, just like the gash on your face that you acquired from the accident.

Nights blurred into days, and sometimes, it was hard to tell which was which. Friends would find you in bars or on the rooftops, looking worse for wear, lost in your thoughts. Yes, Wanda grieved, but she was also lost without you by her side. She yearned for your comfort, your grounding presence; instead, all she got was your voicemail.

The breaking point came on an evening when she didn’t hear from you for two weeks. On a hunch, she decided to visit your dorm room. The last thing she expected was to find Maria there. While the situation was innocent enough, to Wanda's overwhelmed and grieving heart, it felt like a betrayal. Maria, sensing the rising tension, made a hasty exit, leaving the two of you alone.

Wanda's eyes glittered with rage and sadness. “Is this it?” she demanded. “Is this how we handle grief? You shut me out and bring her in?”

You looked away, the walls you had put up to protect yourself now seeming like a prison. “It's not about Maria,” you murmured, your voice empty, almost lifeless.

Wanda's red-rimmed eyes searched yours, looking for a glimmer of the person she loved. “Then what is it? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

“Why don't you blame me?” you suddenly screamed, tears blurring your vision. “You should hate me for your brother dying!”

For a few moments, there was a deafening silence, interrupted only by your quiet sobs.

Wanda's hands cupped your face, forcing you to meet her eyes. “I've never blamed you. Not once.”

You remained quiet, refusing to let Wanda lift your chin from your chest.

Wanda continued, “Life is a series of 'what ifs' and 'maybes'. You can't control everything. And neither can I. We both lost him, Y/N. I don’t need more loss by losing you too.”

“Maybe you already have,” you whispered, finally looking into her eyes.

Wanda's voice cracked, “You can't be serious. What are you saying?”

You felt drained, worn out. “I don't know how to be us anymore, Wanda.”

She looked devastated. “So you're just walking away? Because we're hurting?”

You just wanted to be able to breathe again. You just wanted all of the pain to end, even if it meant letting her go.

Wanda's face crumpled, her voice rising. “So, that's it? You're just giving up?”

You could barely muster the strength to speak. "I just think... maybe it's easier this way."

“Easier for whom?” Wanda yelled, unable to hold everything back any longer. “I don't need easy, Y/N. I need you. But if you're so set on this, then be honest with me.”

You took a deep breath, your throat tight. “I think we need space, Wanda. A break.”

For a moment, it looked like Wanda might collapse. She took a step back, her gaze cold and hard. “You think a break will fix this? Fine. But don't expect me to be here waiting when you come around.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.

The last image of Wanda Maximoff etched into your mind as you closed her chapter.

Now

You half-expect her to seek you out after you left the reception. So, when the familiar scent of Wanda’s perfume wafts over, you keep your back turned, taking a long drag from your cigarette rather than acknowledging her arrival.

“Can I bum one?” she asks, her voice softer than the last time you heard it.

You hand her a cigarette without a word, watching her closely as she lights it. Her fingers, slender and pale, bring the cigarette to her lips, and she takes a long drag, exhaling with a sigh.

She looks so different, yet so achingly familiar.

Her hair is red—a detail you missed earlier. But now, standing this close to her, you can pick out everything that’s changed about her.

And you hate how good you are at doing just that.

For a few minutes, both of you stand in silence, letting the smoke swirl around in patterns before it gets carried away by the wind.

Wanda breaks the silence. “It's been a while.”

“Did you know it was Maria’s wedding?” you ask, finally gathering the courage to look at her.

She hesitates, exhaling a plume of smoke before admitting, “Yes, I did. But explaining to Steve our... complicated history and why I'd refuse to be his plus one seemed harder than just going with it.”

“Steve?”

She looks down, taking a moment before murmuring, “Steve’s my fiancé.”

Your eyes instinctively flit to her left hand, landing on the glimmering diamond ring. It's large and hard to miss, and you almost want to laugh that you hadn’t noticed before.

There’s a long pause between you both before you find your voice. “Congratulations, Wanda.” And to your own surprise, you genuinely mean it.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, an action you still find so endearing after all these years. But you’re not supposed to find anything about her endearing anymore. They’re not supposed to make your heart race. They’re not supposed to make you feel light-headed with desire.

It hits you painfully just how possible it is to stand mere inches from someone, yet feel oceans apart.

Wanda takes a deep breath, releasing it shakily.

“You know,” Wanda says, her voice soft, “I never really got to apologize for how things ended between us.” She shakes her head slowly, tears forming in her eyes. “I was angry, hurt... lost. And when you tried to come back, I was already seeing someone else. By that time–”

“–so much has happened and I’ve hurt you too much,” you finish for her, a pained smile on your lips. “I’m sorry too.”

Wanda's breath hitches, and for a moment, she's transported back to your dorm room. She's spent a long time wondering what might have happened if she had stayed. But that choice belongs to a different timeline, a version of her that might have been braver than she feels now.

You pause, glancing at your hands before meeting her eyes. “Are you happy, Wanda?” A part of you hopes she's found happiness, yet another selfish part wishes she hasn't—because if she hasn't, maybe there's still a space for you in her life.

Wanda meets your gaze, her eyes shining with a clarity you hadn't seen in years. “I am happy,” she confirms softly.

The unexpected rush of emotion tightens your throat, and your eyes mist over. But you fight it, forcing a big smile that wrinkles the corners of your eyes.

“That's great, Wanda,” you say. Your heart aches a bit, thinking how happiness can feel like a double-edged sword.

Reading your expression, she asks, “What about you? Are you happy?”

You promised Maria you won’t stop looking for the kind of happiness that brings people together.

So, now you hang onto the hope of that promise.

“Getting there,” you answer, the corners of your mouth lifting ever so slightly, “I will be.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #oneshots #steve rogers #wanda maximoff au #maria hill #bittersweet ending

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luvly-writer · 1 year ago

Text

"XOXO"

Ch 8 She makes the whole place shimmer

-•-

Author’s note: Long chapter ahead! I worked so hard on this and Chapter 9 so please, you are invited to let me know your feedback! Hope you all enjoy!!<3

Warnings: creepy men

Taglist: @w31rdg1rl @mxtokko @loonymoonystuff @grandstrangerphantom @1lellykins

if you’d like to be added to the taglist; leave a comment below!

masterlist:

-•-

Y/n's leg kept bouncing as she sat in one of the rooms of the Gilded Hall. Her family had arrived early due to the fact that her mother and sisters were part of the organization committee. Yn was always in charge of the decorations and this year she had gone all out. The theme was red, gold, and green and it looked beautiful. She would have enjoyed her work even more if only her family hadn't invited Mr. Moris as well. The moment that he arrived, she had fled to one of the many vanity rooms of the hall. Still, in her white long furry coat, which she maintained to keep her beautiful dress hidden, she waited for Tim's text telling her that he had arrived. Finally, she hears the notification go off on her phone.

She sent Tim her location and soon, she heard him knock. She walked towards the door and let him in.

"Why are you still in your coat?" he asked taking a good look at her.

"I panicked and ran when I saw Mr. Morris making his way towards him. Plus I wanted to make a big reveal of my dress because no one else has seen it, " she said looking down and playing with her coat.

"Isn't that a bit dramatic?" he asked with an amused smirk.

"You dress up in a spandex suit and fight crime under the alias of a bird. Do YOU have room to judge?" she quips as she takes him in. Sleek black suit, grey vest and white dress shirt that fitted him just right. Sleek black pants with black shiny dress shoes as well. But that wasn't what caught her eyes the most...it was the very shiny, very glittery light blue tie he was wearing. She walks towards him and smiles.

"Your tie..." she whispers as she caresses it..

He looks down at her. Even with her heels, he was taller than her. "What about it?" he asked softly.

"It matches perfectly! My sisters are going to freak out. We will look perfect...AND AND IT SPARKLES TIM IT SPARKLES!" she smiled brightly and a part of Tim's heart wanted to keep that smile there forever.

"Yes it does, angel" he smiled.

"Let's go!" she took his hand and pulled him out. She led him around many different passages.

"How do you know this place so well?" he asked seeing as she finally reached one hall. He could see the entrance at the end of it and knew that she was going to defininitely going to make a big entrance.

"How does it look?" she asked and Tim finally turned to look at her. She had taken her coat off and was showing him her dress. True to her word her dress was light blue with a lot of sparkly diamonds. A true winter goddess. She was dazzling. She twirled in front of him and smiled.

"Breathtaking, angel. Doing justice to your name" he said with adoration in his eyes.

"What name?" She laughed and it really went straight through his heart.

"The ice queen" he answered, offering her his arm. "I still don't understand why that is your nickname seeing as of the three of you, you are the least that should be classified as a nightmare," he asked as you both began walking forward. Y/n stayed quiet, the dazzling smile she had on faltered a little. He was expecting one of her witty comebacks or another of her lovely eye rolls and yet he got silence and a sight frown.

“Sometimes you have to be a little bit cruel for people to take you seriously” she said looking down, “but that is not the topic tonight! Ready?”

she changed the subject, tugging his arm and smiling again.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said trying to move past that weird moment. He will store it in his head to investigate it later on.

Once they neared the entrance, the attention was on them. Paparazzi from everywhere were taking pictures and asking questions. Everyone wanted the latest insider on what was going on between two of the most prominent figures of Gotham. Y/n smiled and waved as she hugged Tim's arm tighter. Tim wanted to look at the camera but all he could do was admire her. They posed here and there, he smiled at them every once in a while, but his eyes would not leave Y/n. This made the crowd go even more wild.

Finally, they were beginning to get closer to the Vanderbilts. William Vanderbilt, Y/n's father, stood tall and imposing. He was known to be quite serious. Next to him was Franchesca Vanderbilt, Y/n's mother. It was obvious where Yn got her beauty from. Y/n had her eyes, fave structure, and hair. Not far from them were Aurora and Charlisse with their respective husbands. It is true what they say, there has never been an ordinary woman in the Vanderbilt family. They were all known for their remarkable abilities and breathtaking beauty. Not too far back, Mr. Morris was standing, sizing him up. Noticing this, Tim smirked and decided to pull Y/n closer, kissing her temple.

"Mother, father, sisters, what a lovely evening! I would love to present you all to Timothy, my boyfriend" Y/n said, showing him off proudly. She laid her head on his shoulder and hugged his arm smiling. His heart warmed at her affection, even though he knew it was for show.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. Mr. Vanderbilt, it has been a while. Ladies, you all look dazzling." said Tim as he flashed his most charming smile.

Yn's sisters smiled at the pair and shook Tim's hand.

"The pleasure is all ours, Mr. Drake Wayne. Our sister seems to be completely smitten over you," said Aurora, smiling softly at how Tim turned to look at Y/n and wink at her, causing her to roll her eyes playfully. "Let us hope that this pairing does both of you good." she finished and left with her husband. Charlisse inspected him lightly and raised her eyebrow at him. "That's the baby of the family, Timothy, one wrong move and I will have every private investigator in a 5-mile radius on you and leave you with nothing." She said with a big smile.

"Ever the diplomatic, Char. Let's leave the threats for another day, please, we are in public" responded Y/n. Charlise raised her nose and walked away. That left them with her parents, who had not spoken a word the entire time. Franchesca tried to give him a warm smile and seemed welcoming. On the other hand, William speaks up. "I hope tonight's dinner helps us get to know you Timothy, we have been anxious to meet you," he said. Something about the way he said anxious gave Tim a bad feeling. Not only that, the way Y/n tightened her grip on him made him grow cautious. What had he stepped into?

-•-

So far the dinner had gone fairly well. They had been seated at the table and people were mingling amongst themselves. They were placed on a straight table. Yn had been seated between Tim and Mr. Morris. To his left, were sat Aurora and her husband. In front of them, from left to right, were seated Charlisse and her husband, William, and Franchesca. He sat directly in front of her father, and Y/n sat in front of her mother.

They had gotten through the first two courses when William spoke up. "So Timothy, is it true you actually dropped out of high school?" Francesca turned to look at her husband scoldingly. Before she could open her mouth and excuse her husband, Tim spoke up. "Yes, I decided to drop out when Bruce offered me the position of CEO, I wanted to focus on the business." William's face stayed stone cold. Charlisse decided to continue with the question, "How ethical is it to place a seventeen-year-old in the position of CEO?" Y/n glared at her, knowing that her sister was playing the same game as her father.

"Pretty ethical, I'd say. He had been teaching me the ways of the company when I had recently turned 17, and he gave it to me a few weeks before my 18th birthday; meaning that when the paperwork was finalized I was legally an adult." Tim responded taking a sip from his drink. Y/n held his hand on top of the table and squeezed it in reassurance. She had warned him of the targeting they would have done to him.

"Say, and how has that gone for you?" she asked, "Surely a kid can't possibly be apt to take over and not lead them to bankruptcy"

"I'll have you know that Tim's mind is brilliant, Charlisse. If you'd been informed, you would know that Wayne Enterprises has done nothing but flourish and grow ever since Tim became the head of the company." Y/n defended. This wasn't the first time they piled up against a boyfriend of hers. (well fake boyfriend in this situation, but they did not know that)

"Thank you, angel. And to answer your question, Bruce went a few months shadowing me so that if I had any problems or questions, he would be there to help. He made sure the transition was as smooth as possible. I am completely grateful for him trusting me with this opportunity and helping me along the way" he answered. Your mother awed at that and smiled.

"I find that difficult to believe," said Charlisse and was about to ask another question when Aurora spoke up, "Charlisse, that is enough. He is a guest at our party, don't forget your manners," she said. Y/n smiled at her gratefully.

"Francis, old friend, what did you say you did this weekend?" your father asked smirking at the old man. You felt your heart drop a little.

"I took a trip to the Met Museum in New York. I had the pleasure of purchasing one of the most lovely paintings I have ever encountered. Are you all familiar with the Le Saule Pleureur?" he said and looked directly at Y/n. Tim felt her stiffen at his words and looked at her questionally.

"I'm afraid that I am not aware of how that is possible. Le Saule Pleurer is not a painting that is on sale," said Y/n taking a big sip of her wine.

"But it is. Your father put a good price on it and now it is currently being sent to my home gallery." Mr. Morris said, sending a chilling smile towards Yn.

Yn felt her heart stop. She looked towards her father and he looked down to his food, unable to meet her eyes. She turned to her mother whose eyes were filled with pity. Yn could feel a knot in her throat. "How could you?" she asked softly.

Tim felt his heart shatter at her tone. He looked at the young girl and placed his arm around her. He had no idea what they were speaking about yet he didn't press much. He decided to observe the room around him. Aurora looked horrified at the news and turned to discuss it with her husband. Charlisse was watching her father and sister intently, waiting for the next move. Something about her reminded Tim of a snake willing to pounce. Then her mother, reached out to Y/n and tried to place her hand on top of hers but only received a cold look. Her father was watching Yn intently, waiting for her next move and Mr. Morris was smirking at the scene. Yn was about to say something but her father cut her off.

"It is just a painting, Y/n. Don't make a scene now." He said dryly, "Besides if you wish to see your precious painting, you know the answer to your problem is clear as day". Everyone caught his insinuation. Tim had deduced that it was something of great value to Yn and the only way she would be able to see it was if she married Mr. Morris. "Father...." Yn began, but wasn't able to finish because the debutantes were going to be presented.

For the rest of the meal, Y/n would only interact with him and Aurora. Mr. Morris would try to make advances to her and she would cuddle closer to Tim every time. Finally, the dinner was over. The debutants and guests were invited to take the floor. Tim took this opportunity to bring Y/n away and give her some space to breathe.

He wanted to ask but refrained from doing so in a very public setting. He could feel Yn was glad that he had not asked yet. A few dances later and Tim went to look for some refreshments, leaving Yn alone to wait for him.

"Miss Vanderbilt" she heard someone call her. She turned around and saw Mr. Morris nearing her. She looked around for Tim but she was too late, Mr. Morris had gotten a hold of her.

"You seem to be constantly avoiding me, Miss Vanderbilt," he said. She saw his eyes scanning her body up and down. She hugged herself trying to place a little coverage. "And that saddens me, my girl. I have been nothing but kind to you all these years and this is how you repay me. I have held nothing but admiration for you ever since your were a child" he smiled creepily.

"Ever since I was a child? What is that supposed to mean?" she asked disgusted.

"I have held adoration for you, your remarkable abilities, and your beauty ever since you were a young girl, my dear. Have you not ever noticed?"

"I have Mr. Morris, and I believe it is hardly appropriate," she said timidly.

"Please call me Francis"He insisted.

"I'd rather not," she remarked, which made the man grow frustrated.

"Miss Vanderbilt, I can assure you it is appropriate, you are 21 years of age. You are surely a legal and consulting adult, I have been waiting for-"

"Surely, waiting for a minor to become legal must be considered an act of pedophilia by some people, don't you think, Francis?" interrupted Tim. He had heard some of the conversation and was absolutely disgusted by it. He had to intervene. Mr. Moris glared at Tim and made a displeased sound. Tim gave Yn her glass and wrapped his arms around her waist. Feeling Tim hug her from behind, Yn relaxed into his body. She felt safe around him.

"I suggest you stay out of the matter at hand, Timothy." He said, straightening his back to try to be at eye level with Tim.

"That is Mister Drake Wayne to you, Francis.. and of course this concerns me. My girlfriend is being weirded out by the flirtations of a man twice her age who refuses to take the hints of her clear discomfort and notice the clear boundaries she has placed." He said tugging Yn behind him, creating a physical division between Mr, Moris and her.

"You are in no good authority to speak to me as such. I will have a conversation with your father about this, Miss Vanderbilt. This is an insult. You will face the repercussions, Miss Vanderb-" he was cut off by Tim

“I can assure you she will not. Go near her again and I will have my lawyers and my father's on call by sunrise. You are familiar with the expression 'a Wayne never loses a case' am I correct? I will have you know if anyone in my family catches word of this predatory behavior you can say goodbye to your public standing because we will make sure your reputation will be considered dead. Have I made myself clear?" Tim seethed. You had never seen this side of him and were taken aback.

"You can't do that" said a trembling Mr. Morris.

"Yes. I. Can." stated Tim coldly, "I have the money and the standing, so test me." Everybody knew the Wayne's name was Old Money, so standing he did have. He was going through with his word and everyone knew it. Finally, Mr. Morris backed up with an angry face. Tim took Yn's hand and let her out. She was too in shock of the situation to say anything.

-•-

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pjofancalledbelle · 10 months ago

Text

Naked in Manhattan~ Piper Mclean x Reader

AN-Frist post. Before you judge I am dyslexic and British and goofy. So this wlw because Piper doesn't get enough love and theres only like two fanfics. SEND REQUESTS FOR ANY CHARTERS. Also im only on MOA so i dont know how Piper acted with her gf but I'll try. Sorry if it's too OC tell me and I'll try fix it. Also the girl is Percy's sister.

Warnings-kissing and cursing but pg13

(Reader) had invited Piper around to her apartment in Manhattan and they were snuggled under a blanket watching a musical version of a 2000's classic, MEAN GIRLS! "Isn't Regina Gorge like so hot." Piper whispered as she looked at (Reader) out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah totally, I mean she's a bitch, but Reneé Rap soooo hot it's unfunny." (Reader) agreed with a slight blush as she reached her hand into the bowl full of popcorn at the same time as Piper and gave her a nervous smile as their hands brushed. She swore she felt electric shock go through her body like when she jumped up behind Jason and he got nervous. Piper giggled a little as she looked at (Reader) with her kaleidoscope eyes that could make anyone captivated.

"So...you think Rennee Rap is hot? Does that mean you like girls?" Piper asked as she shoved popcorn into her mouth and chewed it. The movie was still playing in the background but neither of the girls was paying attention to it because they were too busy studying each other's faces in the dim light. "I...um don't know. I mean I've never kissed a girl so like maybe?" (Reader) said unsurely as she anxiously fiddled with the blanket and distracted herself by taking a sip of her coke,

Piper smiled a little at the answer and inched closer leaning in. "Well, I've never kissed a girl either so, like, not to make it awkward or anything but we could kiss." She said trying to come off more confident then she felt. What if she had just messed it all up? What if (Reader) got grossed out by the idea? No. Piper had to remind herself her mum was the goddess of love she had this in the bag.

(Reader) was pretty sure she was as red as a tomato now as she looked at Piper and licked her lip glossed lips as her eyes darted down to Piper's lips and she found herself nodding. "Yeah, I'd like that." She said breathily as she also leaned in.

Piper pressed their lips together gently with their lip glosses making the kiss sticky but ten times better. Sure, Piper had kissed Jason and that was good but this. Wow, this was just everything. Piper cupped (Reader)'s cheeks and pulled her in closer the with fireworks going off and she slipped her tongue in just as a door opened and light and giggling from the hallway spilled into the room.

"HOLLY SHIT! STOP KISSING MY SISTER!" Percy yelled as he stood in the doorway with Annabeth standing next to him staring at the pair in shock.

AN- Hoped you enjoyed this short piece. I don't know anything about kissing so that's why I didn't really expanded on that. REQUEST ARE OPEN for any poj character. feel free to give feedback. :)

#piper mclean #piper mclean x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #wlw #fluff #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #percabeth #Spotify

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crguang · 7 months ago

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Okay so I know this might not be your usual ask to receive but I kind of wanted to say something here.

To be clear I am straight.... Or so I thought?

A few weeks ago I discovered a post of yours; the post being the love language fic and at that time I had no idea what Honkai star rail is but for some reason I had to read it.

It blew my mind away.

It was like opening a door that was locked deep inside my brain. I quickly became enamored to the character Himeko. So much so I played the game lol. I don’t know how to describe the feeling but it’s like, my stomach turns and my heart clenches just the thought of the red head. There’s more to the feeling but sadly I’m no writer and English is not my first language…. (I had to pull out an English dictionary.)

All my life I’ve been straight. I dated twice and it was all guys. But they were assholes. I remembered the first guy, he was nice at first but after 3 weeks he wanted someone more prettier. I think I felt a twinge of pain but that was just about it. I thought I would be bawling my eyes out like in romance movies. The second was something I don’t remember clearly. I fell out of love for him and he hated me for that. I felt bad but to be fair he was narcissistic.

Anyways, I read more of your fics and everytime I read a Himeko one, my brain turns to mush. She looks and sounds so gentle and at the same time looks so divine! If she offered me her coffee I will gladly accept it and kiss her. Oh to be loved by a sun goddess.

I’m kind of rambling now. I’m sorry it’s so long. I had to get this out of my chest somehow. I don’t know if this is a phase or not. I’ve never experienced something like this before and definitely not for a fictional character.

Can I ask for some advices please? I’m sorry if it’s too much, you can just ignore this.

this is sooo adorable, i’m so flattered that my writing has made you feel something you’ve never experienced before, even more so that it’s something so beautiful. don’t worry about your English, i understand you completely. i love that Himeko can make you a little giddy, she’s definitely a sweetheart!!! i’m also sorry that the men you’ve dated were such assholes, you deserve better and i’m glad that they can no longer affect you.

i can only really speak of my experience here, but i realized i liked women when i read fics as well. i’d read about natasha romanoff and harley quinn (i was a superhero nerd😞) and it’s after the twentieth fic that i went, “wait, why am i reading about dating girls?” it was done very subconsciously because i never approached the matter again, it felt normal and natural to me despite my upbringing and what was hard was figuring out if i liked men at all. i’d have favourite male fictional characters that i’d tell myself i would marry if they were real (not true) or have celebrity “crushes” that i’d tell myself i would date (nuh huh) but the common denominator— except lying to myself— was that these people were all inaccessible to me. when i was faced with men irl, i felt nothing. when i tried dating apps, i’d never swipe right and only feel icky at the thought of a man touching me.

all that to say that if you imagine yourself kissing and dating a woman, it might mean something more. it’s not a definite answer, and honestly it depends how you feel about women in real life too. you can have crushes on fictional characters and feel nothing irl, i have lesbian friends who swoon over some male characters but they’d never be with a man. for me, reading reader insert fics about women meant that i wanted to date them. for you, it might mean something different. i would say not to panic about it, you can find yourself at your own pace and not to judge the questions you ask yourself or the conclusion you come to. whether you just like men, or women, or everyone— it’s a beautiful thing and you shouldn’t feel anxious or nervous about figuring that out. thank you for sharing this with me, i’m really happy that you wanted to talk to me about it and never apologize for rambling, this is a safe space!!!!

wishing you all the best 🫶🏾

#sat answers

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rafedaddy01 · 1 year ago

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Hi!! Can you write about drew x chubby reader who’s shy and self conscious about her body and doesn’t want their relationship to go public bc she’s afraid of getting hate bc of the way she looks and fans saying he deserves better but she never actually told drew that this js the real reason why she wants to keep it private. And maybe he finds out one day because they have a fight bc he doesnt want to hide anymore and she accidentally tells him the truth. It could end with smut if you feel inspired like they make up but he’s still a little mad so he’s rough or smtg haha thank you xxx

“Drew it’s not that I don’t want to go public, I’m just nervous!” You shout as you and your boyfriend have an argument in your bedroom.

“Why not? We’ve been dating for a year now. Don’t you want to let the world know I’m yours?” He said placing his hands on your waist and pulling you in. “What are you so nervous about” his eyes looking into yours with a desperate stare.

You looked away and he brought your face back to his.

Tears gathered on the brim of your eyelids.

“I- I don’t want people to- to judge me for the way I look” you said hanging your head in shame.

A deep sign came from drew as he gathered his thoughts on how to approach this situation.

He loved you and he hated that you felt this way about yourself. All he saw when he looked at you was your beauty and the kind heart you had only made your beauty 100 times attractive to him. He hated seeing you sad about something like this.

“Baby, y/n,” he started, cupping your face and forcing your teary eyes to met his deep blue ones. “I love you. And not anything anybody says about you will change that. Fuck them! If they can’t see what a goddess my girlfriend is then that’s on them. But I don’t want you ever feeling that way about yourself, I’ll punch anyone who says anything bad about my baby, okay?” He said.

You chuckled as you wiped the tears escaping.

He pulled you in for a tighter hug “I’m serious. I won’t every let anyone talk bad about you” he whispered in your ear.

You pulled away and looked into his eyes, you smiled as you wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled his lips down to yours. “Thank you” you whispered as you pulled away from his soft lips.

#outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #dark rafe cameron #outerbanks #drewstarkey #drewstarkey smut #rafecameron #fanfic #smut #drew and reader smut #drew starkey smut

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wheretheharekissesthefox · 3 months ago

Text

Bon appétit - Chapter 15 of 21: Chocolate

[Astarion/Gale]

It's 2 a.m., Gale's tired and wants some food. Astarion, the cute barista/waiter at the Emerald Grove knows how to sate his cravings.

Trigger warning (18+): Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, No Magic, No Vampire, No Wizard, Graphic Description of Sex, Smut, Anal Sex, Cum Eating, Blowjob/Fellatio, Fingering, Rimming, Depraved Carnal Lust, Body Worship, Mentioning of Past Abuse, Suicide and Childhood Trauma, Hedonic Debauchery, Copious Amount of Cum, Sprinkle of Praise Kink, BDSM Elements, Waiter Astarion, Professor Gale, Slight Angst, Feels, Emotional Rollercoaster

Served to: @patheticfangirl

Evereska, the City of Sexual Liberty, was one of the most beautiful places Gale had ever seen. Time-honoured buildings, parks with ponds, botanical gardens - and a dizzying amount of sex shops.

The couple silently agreed that every time Gale forced Astarion through a boring day of historical and literary sightseeing, the latter was allowed to drag the former into one of the many sex stores the next day.

And so, Astarion slowly but steadily prepared for his special scheme which he'd planned to execute before the end of their honeymoon.

As they, once again, were sauntering through one of the botanical gardens with exotic plants, Gale suddenly asked: "Isn't your mother originally from Evereska?"

"She is. Why do you ask?"

"I mean... you should have family here then, right? Wouldn't you like to meet them?"

Astarion snorted disdainfully.

"No. Why should I reconnect with people who have never shown any interest in me? They had more than twenty years to come to my aid, but just like the gods, they never showed up. Just because we're related by blood doesn't mean they're family." The blond looked at his husband with a heated expression. "You are my family, Gale. I don't need anyone else but you."

Since they were holding hands, he almost stumbled when the brunet stopped dead in his track.

"I'm here for you," Gale spoke sincerely. "I won't go anywhere."

"I know, my love," smiled Astarion, brushing a stray hair from his husband's face. Then, he leaned in for a gentle kiss, happy he could do so in public without being judged.

"Please, tell me more about yourself," Gale begged. He usually never pressed for information about Astarion's past, so, it came as a surprise. The blond was willing to sate his husband's curiosity for once.

"I don't know much," he admitted. "I don't even know my mum's maiden name. As I told you before, she suffered from bipolar disorder and spent most of her life depressed in her bed. During the good times, she was optimistic and bright like the sun. And she was incredibly beautiful: blond, long locks, bright green eyes, a birthmark on her chin. As a kid, I always thought she looked similar to the goddess Tymora. I remember her dancing with me, painting, and looking at flowers in the garden. She never talked about herself, but she told me about Evereska's beauty and that she wanted to bring me here one day. And now, she's dead and I'm here. Ironic, isn't it?" Astarion barked a watery laugh and swallowed thickly. He suddenly missed his mother with a burning intensity. Unshed tears were blurring his vision. Gale kept quiet, simply holding his hand. "My mother committed suicide when I was twelve, and a year later, my father died in a car crash. At first I was happy about it, imagine that, because I could never be good enough for my father. He was a cruel, callous person and I believe my mum would still be alive if it wasn't for him. Then came the years in various foster homes. Because none of the families wanted to take in a grieving teenager, I was passed around until I was eighteen and they could finally kick me out of the system. Shortly after, I met Cazador, which led to a twenty-year-long abusive relationship, and now, here I am. Lovely, isn't it?"

Astarion huffed humourlessly. He was wrapped into a warm embrace, senses flooded with the feeling of safety and the smell of lavender and cedarwood.

"I'm sorry that all this has happened to you," Gale murmured. "And I'm incredibly proud of you. You're the most wonderful person I've ever met, and you're shining so brightly, you're putting the stars to shame."

Astarion closed his eyes and pressed his face into his husband's neck, sniffling quietly and fighting back tears. When they finally parted, Gale placed a kiss on the blond's forehead.

"I love you," he told him, and Astarion felt like he was about to melt into a puddle of goo.

"I love you too," he replied and kissed the brunet sweetly.

When they arrived back at their hotel room, Astarion was ready to put his plan into action. He wrapped his arms around Gale's neck, and pulled him in for a kiss.

"I have an idea," he revealed, "and I'd like to execute it."

"Dangerous," teased his husband, eyes crinkling with mirth. Astarion snickered.

"Are you ready for a night of hedonic debauchery and unfathomable sins?"

"With you? Always," Gale answered sincerely, and Astarion captured his lips in a ferocious kiss.

"Prepare yourself in the shower for me," the latter demanded.

"Your wish is my command," said Gale with a smile. With one last parting kiss, he made his way to the bathroom to follow his husband's order. The latter, giddy with excitement, pulled out the plastic bags he'd hidden under the bed. The hotel room had a separate toilet which came in handy now, as Astarion washed the brand new sex toys he'd bought over the course of the last couple of days in the sink before putting on his outfit. He couldn't help but giggle when he donned the tiny, crimson panties and the black, sheer stockings with matching, lacy garters. As a finishing touch, he applied some lipstick that matched his panties. He quickly left the toilet and lined up the toys on the foot of the bed. Everything was prepared just in time. The bathroom door opened and Gale sauntered out, butt naked. His eyes widened and a gasp escaped him as he laid eyes on Astarion who grinned, purring: "Do you like what you see, darling?"

"Very much so," whispered Gale, swallowing and licking his lips unconsciously. Still grinning like the Cheshire cat, Astarion slinked closer, shaking a little vial with pink liquid between his fingers.

"What's that?" Gale asked, dubiously.

"An infamous Evereskan potion," Astarion explained. "It's something that enhances stamina and erections, similar to Viagra, but much more potent. It has one side effect though."

"Which is?" Gale wanted to know, clearly worried.

"Hyperspermia," grinned Astarion, "which isn't a bad side effect for what I've planned."

Gale kept silent for such a long time, the blond got anxious, fearing he'd made a mistake. Then, finally, his husband broke the silence.

"I'm truly sorry, Astarion, but I can't take that. I fear my heart wouldn't be able to handle it - despite the pacemaker."

The addressed chuckled slightly, revealing: "It's not meant for you anyway. It's for me."

"Oh?"

Gale sounded surprised and intrigued in equal measure. With a hum, Astarion uncapped the small glass bottle and downed the potion. It tasted sweet, with a slightly bitter aftertaste, but it wasn't bad at all. The blond discharged the vial on the small table and grabbed the lipstick.

"Hold still, love."

With practiced ease, he applied the deep red colour to Gale's plush lips. Then, he drew back to admire his work and praised: "Beautiful."

Gale looked flustered, but Astarion didn't give him the time to lose himself in his head and placed the lipstick on the table again before picking something up he'd previously unpacked. He held it out to his husband who cocked his head questioningly.

"Gale?"

"Yes?"

"Put these on."

Enraptured, Astarion watched how Gale pulled the dark purple, fishnet stockings over and up his thick, hairy legs without complaint. God, it was hot! The blond bit his lip, but didn't succeed in stifling a groan. He was so fucking turned on right now, and he told his husband exactly that.

"You look incredibly hot, my love. Hotter than usual. Those stockings suit you. Purple truly is your colour," he purred, tugged on the wide elastic band that held one of the stockings in place, and let it snap against Gale's thigh. The latter moaned, arching his back.

"And you're stunning, Astarion. The outfit emphasises your long, elegant legs," Gale got out before his husband repeated the motion on the other thigh, making him gasp. Astarion leaned in, purring in his ear: "Remember when you told me you want me to fill you up until you can taste it in your throat? Today's your lucky day."

Gale whimpered and kissed him desperately. Oh, he was needy – and Astarion revelled in it.

"I'm going to fuck you until you cry and pass out," he growled into his husband's ear and bit its cartilage.

"Please," the latter breathed, tilting his head to the side to give Astarion better access.

"Please what, love?"

"Do it."

"Do what?"

"Astarion," Gale whined frustrated, making the addressed chuckle smugly.

"I love it when you beg. So, do me the honour, hm?"

The brunet huffed and blushed. Astarion found it endearing that his husband was an absolute freak, but still turned red whenever they were talking dirty. Gale pulled Astarion closer by the hips, rubbing his forming erection against the silky fabric of the panties.

"Beg," the blond repeated, like the menace he was.

"Please, Astarion, please, fuck me until I cry and pass out," Gale finally got out. "I want it, I want you. Please, fill me up."

"Good," growled the addressed into his ear and sucked a love bite into his neck. Gale groaned, digging his fingers into Astarion's hips. "Get on the bed, love."

"How do you want me?" the brunet ask.

"On your back."

Gale immediately obeyed and spread himself out like a buffet. Astarion salivated just looking at him. His husband was gorgeous, kind, generous, and he could call himself lucky to have won the jackpot. With cat-like elegance, Astarion climbed onto the bed and crawled towards Gale who watched him with blown pupils.

"What I've planned might get a bit too extreme, so, what's your safe word, love?" Astarion wanted to know while stroking Gale's hair.

"Karsus."

"Really? Your safe word’s the name of a mad physico-chemist?"

Gale frowned.

"Yes."

Astarion burst into a giggle fit.

"That's a perfectly reasonable safe word!" his husband defended himself.

"You're such a nerd," the blond teased him fondly, and Gale rolled his eyes at him good-naturedly. Astarion reached for the lipstick and reapplied it, blowing Gale a kiss afterwards with a smirk. With his crimson lips, he started kissing his husband's face, neck, and chest, leaving bite marks, hickeys, and lipstick stains behind. Gale writhed and moaned under the attention, stroking Astarion's hair. With satisfaction, the latter drew back to observe the lipstick marks all over Gale's body and the way his husband's own painted lips were smudged, and something possessive curled in Astarion's stomach. He leaned down for a biting kiss.

"You're mine," he growled.

"I'm yours," confirmed Gale, panting, and the possessive burning in the blond's belly turned into something softer. Something warm and fuzzy.

"I'll make you feel good," Astarion promised, kissing Gale gently.

"You always do," replied the addressed with a soft smile, and Astarion simply had to kissed him stupid. The blond pulled back and grabbed the lube, flicking the bottle open. He poured some of it onto his fingers and started massaging Gale's hole before pushing two digits in. There was no resistance.

"You've prepared yourself well," Astarion praised pleased.

"Of course, you told m- aaah!"

Gale forgot what he was about to say when his husband wrapped his lips around his dick. Every time, he was astonished anew how talented Astarion was at sucking cock, and how it drove him half-mad with pleasure. Moaning, Gale stroke the blond's hair and tried to keep his hips still. He failed though, arching up into that hot, wet mouth. Astarion hummed contently and rubbed his fingers over Gale's prostate. The latter cried out, bearing down on his partner's hand. The first orgasm hit him so dizzyingly fast that he couldn't even utter a warning before exploding in Astarion's mouth.

"God above!" panted Gale as he shook through the aftermath of his orgasm. His husband swallowed, sat up, and shot him a shit-eating grin.

"Seems like you enjoy yourself, eh?"

Chuckling, Gale pulled Astarion closer with his legs, and the latter went willingly. They traded languid kisses while Gale gently stroke the hair at his husband's nape of the neck.

"I'm not done with you," Astarion told him, smirking. "Not by a long shot."

"I hope so," smiled Gale. "You promised me something."

"I did, didn't I?" Teasingly, Astarion placed a quick kiss on the tip of Gale's nose. "Turn around, love."

They detangled their limbs so that Gale could roll over and get up onto his knees.

"Mmh, perfect," purred Astarion before plunging his tongue into the brunet's ass. The latter groaned gutturally and spread his legs wider to accommodate. Too quickly, Astarion drew back and replaced his tongue with his hard cock, pushing all the way in. With a gasp, Gale arched his back, relishing the way his body opened up and welcomed his partner. The latter gripped Gale's hips and started fucking him fast and hard, causing the bed’s springs to squeak and the headboard to thump against the wall with each thrust.

"Fuck, Gale..." groaned Astarion, mesmerised by the way sweat beaded down his husband’s sun-kissed skin. He picked up speed, almost frantically slamming into the pliant body before him while Gale sobbed and whined into the pillow. With an almost animalistic growl, Astarion reached his high, emptying himself into his husband. Panting erratically, he paused for a moment, focusing on the way Gale pulsed around him. With a gentle pat against the thigh, Astarion pulled out slowly, reached for the purple butt plug on the foot end of the bed, and pushed it into Gale's ass. The latter shivered as the plug slid into place. Astarion brushed some hair from his husband's sweaty face and kissed his forehead.

"Okay?" he asked, and Gale nodded, dazed. Astarion lay down next to him, intertwining their legs and playing with the brunet's hair. He was still achingly hard thanks to the potion, but he could wait a moment before chasing another release. With a pleased hum, Astarion slid his fingers under the elastic band of Gale's fishnet stockings to knead the ample flesh.

"You look so good in these," the murmured.

"Mmh," the addressed sighed eloquently before going in for a sloppy kiss. Gale's hand found its way to Astarion's ass, traced the outline of the panties he was still wearing, then, it travelled further down and stroke over the frilly garters and silky nylon below.

"Stockings never did it for me before," Gale admitted, "but I'm starting to see the appeal now."

Astarion snickered and kissed him again.

"Ready for more?" he purred, and the brunet nodded. Astarion sat up and grabbed the prostate massager at the foot of the bed. Slowly, he eased the plug out of Gale's ass and inserted the toy. Then, he straddled his husband's chest, who looked up at him reverently.

"Open wide, darling."

Gale didn't need to be told twice and he followed the order, lolling out his tongue. Astarion had an almost knee-jerk reaction to it.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous!"

He leaned over to suck on the offered tongue and brush some wayward strands of hair to the side. Astarion straightened up and carefully fed his dick to Gale who took him in enthusiastically. Slowly, the blond rolled his hips forward, testing the waters. When the brunet simply hummed and gazed at him through hooded eyes, Astarion knew he could go faster and deeper. He started thrusting in a leisurely pace, placing a hand behind Gale's head for more leverage. With the other hand, he traced the lips that were stretched around his girth.

"So good for me," he whispered and felt Gale's hands tightened around his thighs. Now, Astarion leaned back to reach the toy in his husband's ass and switched it on. The reaction was immediate; Gale moaned around him and bucked up. Smirking, Astarion took hold of the prostate massager and started moving it in and out, up and down, driving Gale mad. He hissed when he felt teeth against his dick.

"Don't bite, please." Gale whined, but relaxed his jaw again. "Good. Thank you, love."

It only took another few strokes across his prostate before Gale's eyes rolled back in his head and he climaxed with a muffled cry. Astarion didn't give him time to come down. He let go of the toy, leaned forward, and started pistoning into Gale's slack mouth. With a grunt, he pulled out, leaving his husband gasping and coughing, shimmied down, removed the toy, fucked into the greedy hole a few more times, and spilled into him. The potion definitely caused hyperspermia; Astarion had never produced such copious amounts of cum before. It left him slightly dizzy. Panting heavily, Astarion pulled out, pushed the cum that was trickling out back in with his finger, before plugging Gale's ass again. The latter whined, legs trembling. Gale looked utterly wrecked and Astarion was feral about it.

"The things you do to me, my love..."

The blond met the brunet in another kiss, just spit and tongue, wet and messy. It was perfect. Reluctantly, Astarion pulled back to reach for the small vibrator ring and slid it onto his middle finger. He switched it on and ran his hand up Gale's inner thigh who shuddered at the touch. Slowly, Astarion let the vibrating ring trace his taint and balls before stroking it up the length of his flaccid dick and pressing it to the slit. With a surprised squeak, Gale almost jumped off the bed.

"Is it too much?" Astarion asked and the addressed explained: "No. Yes. It's... It's really intense."

"Do you want me to lower the setting?"

When Gale nodded, Astarion did as told, changing the fast whirring to a low hum. Carefully, he made contact with his husband's genitals again.

"Better?"

"Yes," sighed Gale, took a deep breath, and tried to ease back into the pillow. Slowly and gently, Astarion explored his husband's body with the vibrator, eager to find all the areas that made Gale squirm and moan. He eventually made his way back to the brunet's now hard cock, teasing it with slow strokes and changing pressure of the ring against the flesh. Gale had successfully been turned into a moaning, whining mess, but when tears started to leak from his warm, brown eyes, Astarion paused.

"Do you want to make use of your safe word?" he asked cautiously.

"N-no. I'm - I'm okay," panted the addressed. "Thanks for asking though."

"Of course, my love," Astarion smiled and kissed his husband sweetly. He withdrew his hand, which made Gale whine in protest, and plucked the peacock feather from the sheets. Slowly and lightly, Astarion started teasing his husband's erection with it. The latter squirmed, moaned, whined, and wordlessly begged for release. Tears of frustration ran down his face and soaked into his hair.

"Astarion, please... please," Gale sobbed, and the addressed finally had mercy on him. It took three strokes of talented fingers and Gale arched off the bed, lips parted in a silent scream, as he came. Shaking and panting, he gasped for air, unaware of the little, low keening noises he was making in the back of his throat. Astarion shushed him and pulled Gale against his chest and into his arms to let him recover. When the brunet's breathing had finally slowed down and his body had stopped trembling, the blond asked: "Are you ready to try one last thing?"

Gale nodded against Astarion's shoulder, making the latter smile.

"You're rather brave, my love."

"I like trying new things with you."

"Curiosity killed the cat, hm?" chuckled Astarion. His husband shifted to peer up at him and reply: "Well, yes, but satisfaction brought it back. That part of the saying is always forgotten. It's almost as if people only take certain parts of a phrase that fit their personal cause and worldview. Shocker."

Astarion giggled, he loved it when Gale dished out his sassiness.

"Well then, my love. I won't hold you back from trying something new."

Astarion grabbed the lube, removed the butt plug, and started fingering his husband open, slowly and teasingly. Gale gasped and whined, still sensitive from his orgasm. Astarion observed him through half-lidded eyes, basking in the view of his fucked-out husband squirming on his fingers. He couldn't resist and sucked a kiss into a thick thigh.

"So good for me," Astarion praised. "I love you so much. You're my everything."

At that, Gale sobbed. He'd never been everything to anyone before. Never. Ever. He'd never been enough, no matter how hard he tried. And oh, what a revelation that was. He loved it. He hated it. It was too much.

"Karsus," Gale whispered, and just as Astarion pulled out his fingers, they brushed against his prostate again, and he came dry with a cry. The intensity of it almost made him pass out. Gale didn't realise he was whimpering in distress, his body trembling violently, tears streaming down his face. Astarion was frozen in shock, unable to provide comfort. Gale reached for his hand and begged amid tears: "Hold me. Please, hold me, Astarion."

Finally, the addressed moved, wrapped his arms around Gale like he was drowning, and crushed their bodies together.

"I got you, I got you," the blond murmured.

"I love you, I love you," muttered the brunet.

They didn't register each other's words, but they held each other tightly, too scared to let go without falling apart.

"I'm sorry," said Astarion. "What did I do wrong? Please, tell me."

"Nothing. You said I'm your everything, and I'm just... I never was that to anyone before," Gale tried to explain. "I got overwhelmed."

He felt Astarion relax.

"Oh, love..." the blond whispered, but seemed unable to finish whatever he'd wanted to say. Instead, he simply kept embracing Gale, drawing soothing circles against the latter's back with his fingers. Humming contently, Gale slung a leg over Astarion's hip to keep him close, revelling in their affinity.

After a while, Astarion asked: "Do you still want to try one last new thing with me?"

"Yes," answered Gale, smiling softly and kissing his husband's cheek. The latter patted the brunet's thigh and got up from the bed. Astarion grabbed the dildo from the bed, letting it wobble.

"It's called 'the dragon' and it has a neat feature that's remote-controlled." With a grin, he looked at his husband. "It shoots fake cum."

Gale was too stunned to speak, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Astarion felt tremendously satisfied.

"I - Uhm... What?"

"It has a cumshot feature, darling. This tube's connected to the dildo and can be plugged into this cartridge of fake cum. Whenever you're ready, you can press this button, and the mechanism pumps the load through the toy right up your ass. Or your mouth. Whatever floats your boat."

"Uh..."

"Stop looking at me like a deer caught in the headlights, love. I know you'll enjoy it, you little freak," smirked Astarion and started snickering when Gale turned crimson. While he stuck the dildo onto the floor with the help of its suction cup, the brunet murmured: "The kinds of things people come up with is concerning."

"Be glad I didn't get the ovipositor as well," Astarion muttered under his breath.

"The what?" squeaked Gale, the blush creeping down to his chest, and his husband laughed gleefully.

"Come here, darling, and kneel for me," Astarion told him, still chuckling, and dropped two pillows onto the floor. How considerate. Gale rolled off the bed onto slightly wobbly legs, before going down on his knees, placing them on the soft pillows. Astarion ran a hand through Gale's hair, murmuring: "Lower yourself onto it. Slowly."

The addressed obeyed, moaning lowly as the toy entered and stretched him.

"All the way down, my love."

Gale did until his ass cheeks touched the floor. The dildo was lodged deep inside him, making him gasp and groan.

"Good," smiled Astarion, trailing his slender, cold fingers along his husband's neck. "You look so pretty on your knees, darling. And all that for me?" He bent down to kiss Gale passionately. "I love you. Now, move however you please."

The addressed complied, finding the right angle to stimulate his prostate, and rocking until his thighs burned. All that while gazing up at Astarion who watched with burning eyes. At this point, he was achingly hard, his dick begging to be used, and his balls heavy and ready to burst. Astarion cupped Gale's jaw and slowly pushed a thumb between those plush lips, stroking his tongue.

"Suck me off," Astarion ordered and quickly ripped his panties off. His cock stood proudly, precum pooling at the head and dripping to the floor. Gale leaned forward to follow his husband's demand.

"Wait," the latter suddenly told him, grabbed the lipstick from the crumpled sheets, and applied a new layer to Gale's lips. "Perfect."

Grinning, Astarion flicked the lipstick aside before stroking Gale's sweaty hair out of his face and behind his ears.

"Okay, go on now, love," he said softly, and Gale didn't hesitated to engulf him. With a satisfied hum, Astarion stroke his husband's hair as he gently rocked into that hot, wet mouth.

"So good for me," he praised, feeling the addressed shudder against him. "I'll fill you up until you're so full that you're leaking my cum from both ends."

Gale whined at that, doubling down on his effort. Astarion was already close.

"Stop," he gasped, and Gale immediately drew back, wheezing and looking dazed.

Pleased, Astarion noticed the red colour of the lipstick smeared all over his cock. He felt marked, owned - cherished. Smiling, he took a step back to look at Gale who was utterly wrecked. His entire fuzzy body was dripping with sweat, a flush spreading from head to chest, thick thighs trembling, cock rock-hard and ready to burst, and those eyes... so full of adoration, lust, and plea for mercy. It was utterly delicious. Astarion was suddenly gripped by the desire to feel that glorious cock in his ass, so, he changed his mind on a whim. He moved closer to his husband, spread his legs, and slowly dropped onto his lap, forcing Gale to slide all the way down on the toy until his ass touched the floor. While the blond hissed at the stinging stretch, the brunet gasped, his eyes rolling back as his head tilted backwards, his mouth open in a silent cry, tears streaming down his temples, mingling with his hair. Astarion cradled Gale's face in his hands and asked: "Do you need your safe word?"

"No," whispered Gale, hoarsely, and the blond kissed him sweetly as he started to rock up and down and back and forth on him.

"God, you always feel so good," Astarion sighed. "I want you to come in me – as a reward."

Moaning lowly, he kept rolling his hips, holding his trembling partner in a tight embrace. Gale's fingers tightened on Astarion's hips as he bucked up, shifting the toy inside him.

"Please, I'm so close. Please," he begged, sobbing.

"As promised, I'll fill you up," panted Astarion and pushed the button of the wireless controller. He could see it on Gale's face when the fake cum was shot up through the toy and into his husband's ass. The latter cried out and went cross-eyed as he spilled into Astarion, painting his insides with his spent. Then, he went limp, head dropping onto Astarion's shoulder as he gasped for breath. They rested for a bit, with Gale's softening dick still in Astarion's ass, until the brunet had composed himself. Slowly, the blond scooted off his husband's lap and sat down on the floor, legs spread wide.

"Gale," Astarion panted. "Please, I -"

Wordlessly, the addressed shifted, moaning as the toy slipped out of him - a momentary distraction - and crawled between Astarion's legs. The latter's erection had flagged a little, but as soon as Gale wrapped his lips around him, it was back in action. With a loud moan, Astarion threw his head back, hips thrusting jerkily. His body was moving on its own accord, seeking out the wet, hot mouth, gyrating. Gale let Astarion use him as he pleased, taking whatever was given to him. Astarion climaxed with a loud cry, muscles tensing and legs squeezing around Gale's head, and the latter gulped it all down greedily. With a low whine, Astarion gently patted Gale away, too sensitive for any more contact. They slumped onto the floor together, panting, trembling, and covered in all kinds of bodily fluids.

"Wow," whispered Gale after a while. "That was... intense."

"Yeah," Astarion agreed weakly. Then, he turned to look at his husband. "Did you like it?"

"Yes." Gale smiled and blushed a tad. "You?"

"Me too," answered the blond, smiling back.

"Good. What a relief," sighed the brunet with a dopy giggle.

The couple remained lying on the floor until their legs stopped feeling like overcooked noodles, then, they transferred to the spacious bed and fell asleep.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #astarion x gale #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #mind the trigger warning #bloodweave #bon appétit

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