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cutieeva · 6 months ago

Text

The Beautiful Lie

Female reader

Warnings : Manipulation. Love bombing. Self harm. Sexual Assault.

⌜ The art and the love interest (male character) belongs to the talented artist @meo-eiru and the story is inspiringly written and dedicated to @meo-eiru and the readers ! Hope you enjoy the plot that belongs to me but also helped by @meo-eiru a lot ⌟

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

(Y/N) rarely has time to offer to love, dating and such things because first : her taste in men are bad and second: she is a extremely busy person to balance her work life and personal life seperated until the most beautiful man she ever saw came surprising her with love. Or is it ?

"(Y/N), could you go to the Cutieeva mall to check out the new product's sales ?" Her female senior asked sitting from her desk.

"Of course, mam. I will be in a minute". (Y/N) agreed, saving all of her working documents before taking her handbag and left with car keys. Aurora Bloom, the brand of the cosmetic company she works, it is for now one of the top three companies to be trending in global and the best in Europe. While She works in HQ department of the company at a young age she didn't expect and living her life at ease at the rented apartment she lives quite close both to the company and her parents house who always here and there tell her to come home and when she does, it's a feast to eat of her home's comfy food and hearing thousand fictional stories from her writer father, well he wasn't a writer at first before he was a regular working manager at a company but he quit after (Y/N) outdone herself to such pristine department letting him decide to do what he likes until his last breath could be taken applying he wants no regrets to bear.

And he surprised the family by being quite a good writer himself, finding his own group of fandom invested in his writing and always support him while her mother is happy as she was being a housewife like always along being madly in love with her father who reciprocate the feelings to this day which (Y/N) finds utterly endearing yet she has no time to dwell about her love life when she has too much on her plate with her newfound career she wants to grow, as a independent woman and a person who lives her life to the fullest if overlook her empty love life.

"Yes mam, indeed people are enjoying the new shade of lipstick saying it's not only non-sticky but also long lasting highlighting their skin tones". The department store female manger explained pointing to the several women trying their new product 'the cherry blossom lipstick' either on their lips or on their palm.

(Y/N) nod, curling into a pleasant smile when her eyes caught a beautiful woman's back, wore pink shirt and tight skinny black pants with her musing long hair flowing with the breeze. "Must be pretty". She thought when she witness from her pocket a small object— foundation she recognized fell on the ground yet the woman walked away.

"She didn't noticed". On instinct almost she walked to the floor picking up the tiny box and call out. "Miss, your foundation..." She tailed off as she turn into the light, and captivated (Y/N) by the vision before her. His hair was a mesmerizing pink musing hue, with subtle waves that cascaded down his back like a rosy waterfall. The straight strands framed his face, accentuating his chiseled features, while his bangs fell effortlessly across his forehead, adding a touch of whimsical charm.

His eyes, a deep, burnished logoon color, like the warmth of a sunset on a tropical isle, sparkled with amusement as he caught her gaze. They seemed to dance with an inner light, drawing her in with an irresistible pull.

His lips, a vibrant red, curled into a gentle smile, revealing a hint of mischief, and (Y/N) felt her heart skip a beat. But it was the glint of gold at his ears that added the final touch to his captivating appearance - delicate, filigree earrings that seemed to shimmer in harmony with his eyes.

(Y/N) felt like she was drowning in the depths of his gaze, and before she knew it, the words tumbled out of her mouth in a whispered gasp "You're beautiful."

The man's smile widened, and a low, husky laugh rumbled from his throat, sending shivers down (Y/N)'s spine. "Thank you," he said, his voice dripping with warmth, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You are a funny one complimenting me beautiful after calling me a lady".

As he laughed, the golden earrings caught the light, adding a touch of whimsy to his already captivating presence. (Y/N) felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from his face, her heart still racing from the impact of his beauty also sinking the fact she mistaken a man being a woman.

"I am sorry. It wasn't my intention". Honestly said, she look down, dare peeking though her lashes to flinch finding him staring at her the entire time.

"I can see that, the way it's written over your face". He chuckle moving his finger in air to the circle to her face making her palm touch her own heated cherry face.

"Ah !" She laughed nervously, unconsciously fisting on the foundation box.

"So, can I have it back ?" His hand reached out, palm up, with shiny white nails gleaming in the light, as if beckoning the object back from (Y/N)'s grasp. His fingers, slender and elegant, curled slightly, inviting her to return the coveted item. The nails, smooth and rounded, seemed to shine like tiny beacons, drawing (Y/N)'s gaze to his outstretched hand. With a gentle, yet persuasive gesture, he coaxed the foundation back into his possession, his shiny white nails glinting with quiet confidence.

"Huh ?" (Y/N)'s eyes widened, then blinked slowly, as if awakening from a spell, realizing the man had taken the foundation with effortless ease, leaving her feeling bewitched while his eyes crinkled, lips curling into a warm smile as he chuckled, clearly delighted by the woman's adorable, bewildered expression. His low, husky laugh filled the air, his gaze sparkling with amusement.

"What a adorable lady she is". His eyes roamed her body, lingering on every curve, exploring each detail, as if discovering hidden treasures. "You aren't from the department store right ?" (Y/N) blink twice.

"No".

"Oh, then you came to shop ?" He narrowed his eyes noticing her carrying a huge white handbag.

"No". She answered in short.

"Then why ?" He asked tilted his head with the notion his golden earrings swing gently.

"I am from the HQ department of the brand you are holding". Finally she smiled confidently pointing at the foundation's box printed Aurora Bloom.

"Oh !" He delightfully smile, toying with the object. "Pleasant to meet you then. He added.

"Pleasant to you t—" a melody emitted from her wrist watch widening her (E/C) eyes. "Oh god ! I need to hurry ! I am sorry but I need to go". She apologized having fun to converse with the stranger.

"No worries—" His eyes spot the missing ring finger. "—Miss ?" He tailed off insinuating her unknown name.

"(L/N) (Y/N), sir". She replied.

"Mine is Elias". (Y/N) choose not to comment at his lack of surname and nod before walking hastily. How could she forget this time's event manager is herself hosted on Tuesday, the very next day. Cursing her fate she ran.

Perfect. (Y/N) release a sigh overwhelmed by the fast yet perfect preparations she had to done within such short amount of time thankfully today would be the flawless day to showcase their skin products to their VIP guests who might be arriving any minute. The models have already came but "Has the makeup artist come yet ?" She questioned worried for the delayed time of the famous make up artist they somehow succeed in booking his seat as social media following was staggering, with millions hanging on his every post and tutorial. Celebrities clamored for his attention, and fashion icons praised his work. Sold-out masterclasses and coveted collaborations solidified his status as the most sought-after makeup artist in the industry. His name was synonymous with glamour and expertise, and his influence was simply unparalleled.

"It's alright ! The artist must be running late right ?" Soon her worries were proven right because soon after their automatic glass door opened revealing a man wore sleek black glasses, adding a touch of sophistication to his chiseled features. His French brown coat, crafted from seemly fine leather, draped elegantly across his broad shoulders, exuding luxury.

"The artist came, mam !" Her female junior announced however (Y/N) knitted her brows finding the man somehow familiar, from his blush long hair, tall statue only be still surprised finding the man remove his glasses to indeed be that beautiful man from yesterday who smile at her noting he remembered her.

"Wow ! The world indeed works in a mysterious ways". She grin shaking her head. "Welcome to the our event sir, please hurry the show begins within minutes". Adapting her professional mannerism she shaked his hand, guiding him to their backstage to appear on the front stage.

"We met once again, Miss (L/N)" His lagoon eyes on her, standing behind the dark curtain to go.

"Of course, Sir Elias". She professionally smiled intriguing the man a little. "Oh ! Your turn". She stretch out her hand to the stage guide him who nod.

Wonderfully the event unfolded with seamless precision, a testament to the makeup artist's mastery. With each stroke of his brush, he transformed the models into living canvases, showcasing their company's product unparalleled quality. The VIP guests watched in awe, their faces aglow with delight, as the artist's vision came to life. As the final model face the guest revamped into a living goddess, the room erupted into applause, a joyful crescendo that wrapped the evening in a warm, golden glow. The event concluded with effortless elegance, leaving a lasting impression on all who attended including the staff and (Y/N) herself.

"He was the right choice". She giggle as her co-workers swarmed around her, beaming with pride and admiration. "Congratulations, you absolutely crushed it!" they exclaimed, patting her on the back and shaking her hand. "Your attention to detail and tireless efforts made this event truly unforgettable!"

Meanwhile, the VIP guests approached her, their faces still aglow with delight. "Thank you for an incredible experience," they said, their voices filled with genuine gratitude. "Your preparation was seamless, and every aspect of the event was meticulously executed. You truly are a master of your craft!" As the guests departed, (Y/N) waved goodbye, basking in the warmth of their praises. Her colleagues continued to congratulate her, their kind words and smiles a testament to her hard work and dedication. With a sense of pride and accomplishment, (Y/N) smiled, knowing she had truly outdone herself once again.

"You know your craft". She flinch almost screaming meeting his eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Elias. Partially it is your skills too that the reason why it was such a successful event". He smiled shrugging his shoulder.

"Okay, please have a safe drive and reach home". She wave her hand and farewell him before he parted his lips to say, remained rooted at his place, watching her figure disappearing.

"She is always hurry to leave". He mutter walking to his car.

"Hmm...this time their new lipstick looks better". (Y/N) discreetly stare at the neighboring make up store despite having much customers on her stores, she still find the new appeal of their products threatening to her company so she walked inside nodding to the welcoming female clerks.

Picking out the a box, she about to apply on her palm when a voice intrupted.

"Don't do it that way". Her eyes wide meeting his lagoon ones, smiling alike to crescent moons she compare. "Apply it in your lips directly and it will definitely have a different impact". He encouraged the doubtful woman who glided the crimson bullet across her lips, leaving a bold, velvety trail in its wake.

"Hmmm not suiting your face. Lighter". He picked out a peach shade handing her who again gliding the peach lipstick across her lips in soft, smooth strokes, as he whispered, "Let it caress your skin, like a summer breeze." As his warm breath danced across her ear, she flinched, her hand trembling with the lipstick. She turned, her gaze darting to his, their faces too close, the air thick with tension. Her eyes widened, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face, as she leaned back, her shoulders tensing. The lipstick hovered, forgotten, as she struggled to create space between them, her breath catching in her throat. His gaze held hers, intense, unyielding, making her skin prickle with unease and heart racing.

"This suits you. I will take one". Hearing his comment she cleared her throat, slowly keeping the lipstick to where it was when from the tail of her eyes she saw him choose an uneven box of peach shade. Quickly she picked the perfect box stretching to him who raised his eyebrows in question.

"I already have one". He jiggle the box but frown staring at her shaking head.

"Take this, it has perfect box unlike the uneven one". She pointed out to his surprise as a thrilled chuckle left his lips.

"Thank you". Replacing the case.

"No problem". She wave her hand as if physically waving his gratitude.

"Wanna grab drinks ?" Elias suggested out of nowhere tilting his head.

"Okay". Checking her wrist watch she still has few minutes to spare. Also she did wanted a drink and they together went to the drink store nearby ordering one white chocolate matcha for her and one caramel frappuccino for him.

Waiting for the drink they sat near a white seat opposite of each other, talking about trivial things about one another where she learnt he is a regular customer of her brand along their frequent makeup artist that's why she was able to book him easily. Soon the waitress called for their drinks and they talked, sipping their drinks and walking.

"Okay I need to leave". She decided glancing at her wrist watch missing his disappointed gaze.

"Okay. It was nice talking to you". He told.

"Me too". Happily she answered, finding herself enjoying their conversation. "I will take my leave". With a wave she left once again.

However what she didn't expected was their daily meeting at the mall department store as she stepped into the store, clipboard in hand, she was focused on her task: ensuring the department was running smoothly. But then, she saw him—a familiar face among the shelves. Their daily meetings had become a pleasant ritual, a brief respite from her HQ duties. He'd ask about her day, and she'd share stories about the office, or he'd gossip about his latest makeup news. She found herself looking forward to these encounters, feeling a sense of comfort and camaraderie with this customer. He was easy to talk to, and their conversations flowed effortlessly. As she checked the inventory, he'd chat with her, making the task more enjoyable. Their bond grew with each passing day, an unexpected connection between them she wasn't anticipating because once a mundane checking became the hightlight of her day with that weeks pass in blink of an eye. Until one day they sat in their usual white table in front of the drink shop inside the mall.

As he asked the question "Do you like me?" she felt a sudden jolt of surprise, her mind racing with a mix of emotions. Her eyes widened, and actions paused before laughter awkwardly bursting back and forth like a defensive shield.

"Yes, as a good friend!" she exclaimed, trying to brush off the tension, her tone light and playful. But in her haste to respond, she missed the subtle strain in his smile, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes but a doubt linger on her mind for him to ask such a question. Why ? Never in her mind did she view the man romantic, beautiful yes but that's a admiration unlike love, she is certain of her feelings are not alike to love.

"I like you too." His voice was calm, sincere, To her, his words were a friendly echo, a mirrored response, a confirmation of their camaraderie. She nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her, thinking the tension had dissipated, that they were back on familiar ground. (Y/N) simply smiled back, comfortable in her assumption, oblivious to the moment hung, suspended, a delicate balance of feelings, but she didn't notice, already moving on, the exchange filed away as a pleasant, friendly conversation and took her drinks however she soon has to depart this time with a hint of awkwardness.

"It's alright. Nothing is wrong". And correct to her thought the next day was normal as their conversation flowed easily, like a gentle stream. (Y/N) chatted with him, laughing and joking, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity. His question from the day before seemed like a distant memory, a minor blip in their friendly interactions. She didn't dwell on it, assuming it was just a momentary lapse, a strange anomaly in their otherwise effortless exchanges. As they talked, she felt her guard drop, her smile genuine, her heart light. Everything seemed alright again, the tension forgotten, their friendship back on track.

"Okay, see you again !" (Y/N) told glancing at her wrist watch because today she has an important delivery to approval on the said store.

"Yup ! See you again". He bid too when a message notification made her pause, worry etching her face. Her dad's request to bring the anniversary cake had just been detailed by the store's cancellation due to an emergency. Panic set in, her mind racing with consequences, her eyes darting around for a solution. Stress and concern replaced her relaxed demeanor, her fingers flying across the screen to respond to her dad's message. Elias noticing the drastic change asked and she replied elaborating her situation of how she must reach to approvel the delivery application but on the otherhand has to get the custom cake from the cake shop if not then the cake would not be handover.

"How about I went to get the cake instead of you and delivery to your parent's house. Didn't you said it is near ?" He presented the idea, smiling causing (Y/N) to halted her racing thoughts and a breath of air pass her lungs.

"Of course ! Of course !". She laughed heartily handing him the receipts and addresses before running to the delivery store to hastily complete her task and return home as soon as possible.

"Today's work was difficult". Her finger pads rub her forehead re-thinking her workload, getting out of the car and towards her parent's house caught the setting sun's beautiful view. Ringing the doorbell she waited thoughts going back to Elias. "How sweet of a person he is". A smile naturally curl to her lips and wider when the door opened by her mother.

"Happy anniversary mama !" (Y/N) embrace tightly, soaking on her familiar comfort while she returned the affections.

"Thank you dearest. Come inside, it must be hot outside". Her mother close the door behind as she let herself in, walking to the living room finding glimpse of her father sitting on the side chair and ran to embrace him from behind.

"Happy anniversary papa". She sing song, playfully kiss his hair.

"Thank you princess". His aged voice laughed, caress her hands to which she close her eyes melting into his raw love. "Also this young man is such an gentleman. Your taste in men is indeed great like your mother". She frown opening her eyes.

"What are you talking—" Her (E/C) wide, taken a back by Elias appearance sitting across her father, on the sofa and he raised his hands in mock surprise, his eyebrows arched in a playful gesture.

"Why are you—" Her words cut by her mother gentle ones.

"My heartless girl ! You left this man to fend for himself by telling him to get the cake and now you ask why is he here ? Of course I told him to grab one or two bite". The young woman nod, feeling guilty and appreciate at her mother's gesture.

"Ah— about that I am extremely sorry. It was my job to do". Elias shook his head nonchalant.

"Yet without my idea you wouldn't agree so yea, not your fault too". She glee truly pleased to find such a good friend she couldn't ask more and the anniversary celebration was a resounding success, filled with love, laughter, and warmth. As the evening unfolded, (Y/N)'s parents shared a tender moment, her father leaning in to kiss her mother softly on the lips. (Y/N) couldn't help but mockingly scrunch up her face in distaste, eliciting a hearty laugh from Elias sitting beside her. The atmosphere was light and joyful, with the sweet scent of cake wafting through the air. As they gathered around the dessert table, (Y/N)'s parents fed each other cake, their eyes locked in a loving gaze. The beautiful man joined in, playfully feeding (Y/N) a bite, his fingers brushing against hers. The room was filled with the sound of clinking forks and happy chatter, as they all savored the sweetness of the moment, and the love that surrounded them. Time stood still and they basked in the warmth of their little family's happiness, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

"Thank you very much. You helped me a lot". She showed her gratitude standing at the doorstep.

Elias shake his head "I enjoyed it so no need". Silence fill between them letting (Y/N) once again notice the lunar luminescence cascaded over the beautiful man's countenance, bathing his sculpted features in an soft, silvery radiance, as if the moon itself had bestowed a gentle caress upon his serene and peaceful face.

"Bye and good night".

"Same to you". He returned, turning his back to her and drove his car away.

From that day forward, the bond between (Y/N) and Elias blossomed into a beautiful, unbreakable connection. (Y/N) found herself opening up to Elias in ways she never thought possible, sharing with him her deepest thoughts, feelings, and desires. She began to show him pictures of her friends, promising to introduce them soon, and shared stories about her life, her passions, and her dreams. As their trust grew, they exchanged contacts, marveling at how they had gone so long without sharing such a simple yet intimate detail. Their conversations flowed effortlessly, filling their break times with laughter and delight. Elias became (Y/N)'s confidant, her partner in crime, and her guiding light. Their friendship was a symphony of joy, a harmonious blend of trust, understanding, and mutual respect. (Y/N) cherished this new connection, feeling seen, heard, and understood in ways she never thought possible. Elias had become her rock, her safe haven, and her forever friend.

"By the way, I need your help with something". This alert her entire attention to him, sipping her drink from the staw as they both stood in front of the usual drink shop at the mall.

"Yes, anything. What is it about ?" (Y/N) was ready to help him when it's his need of time.

"I need your expertise in sorting through my grandparent's old photo albums. I want to create a memory book for my family, but I'm overwhelmed". Elias avert his eyes, smiling rigidly causing her heart melt at such an thoughtful gesture.

"Aww ! That sweet of course. I am happy to help". But his expression remained uncomfortable.

"But, you need to come to my house for that". He whispered dare to stare into her (E/C) eyes.

She suck her breath knowing she never once visited his home and she gulped nevertheless she grin again because her schedule is free mostly and she wants to help "It's alright ! I am happy to go but of course if you are comfortable". She tilted her head.

"Oh !— of course I would be or why would I ask you for help".

"Likewise but why did you ask me ?" If she recalls correctly he showed her many of his influencer, normal friends.

"Because you are the only friend who is good at managing things. You know like a good event manager who knows how to put things together ?" It earned a melodious laugh from (Y/N).

"I feel appreciated".

"As you should". She giggle more along him for his compliment. Soon she found herself in his car as he drove smoothly through the city, their eyes meeting briefly in the rearview mirror. Arriving at the penthouse he lives. The towering marvel of modern architecture that seemed to touch the stars. He expertly maneuvered the car into the private parking garage, and they stepped out into the opulent lobby, surrounded by polished marble and gleaming steel. A swift elevator ride later, they entered the penthouse itself, a breathtaking expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows, chic décor, and stunning city views. Her eyes widened in wonder, feeling as though she'd entered a different world more important his personal safe of walls.

"Sit on the sofa". He pointed going to the open modern kitchen. (Y/N) felt serenity wash over her when her feet stepped onto the shiny white tiles, their cool surface calming her senses. Sinking into the plush black sofa, she felt enveloped in comfort, her eyes darting around the luxurious space in wonder. With each glance, her awe grew, her heart swelling with gratitude for this stunning sanctuary.

"Here, a juice for you and you see those dusty stacks of heavy things. I found them inside". The cold glass slid within her grip but she smiled nervously because unfortunately blinded by the luxury she often seen on the TV she failed to detect the bluntly dusty things.

"Yes". She lied now laiding her eyes.

"They are I think contains photos of my grandparents but I need help to create an entire new album". Elias shrug helplessly.

"Alright ! Let's do this then". (Y/N) full of enthusiasm knelt down, her hands reaching for the dusty photo albums that lay open on the sleek glass table, her fingers touched the worn covers, a cloud of dust swirled up, carrying with it memories of laughter and love. But with the memories came a fit of coughing, as the dust tickled her throat and lungs.

Elias being swift and attentive, appeared beside her, his movements fluid as he knelt down. He handed her a glass of crystal clear water, his eyes filled with concern. "Here, drink this," he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. She sipped the water, cough subsiding only then to be aware of the proximity of their bodies, kneeling together on the floor. Their faces were inches apart, their shoulders touching, and their legs aligned. The closeness sent a shiver down her spine. His lagoon gaze drifted from her eyes to her lips, still moist from the water. His hand, still cradling the glass, began to move, his fingers brushing against her face.

With gentle care, Elias thumb rubbed against her lips, wiping away the droplets of water. she felt a sudden jolt of discomfort. His touch, though gentle, sent a wave of unease through her body. She tried to pull back, but his long slender hand lingered, his fingers tracing the curve of her mouth.

"(Y/N), I love you. Actually I was in love with you for a long time. Please, please accept me". Desperation whisper though his pink lips bringing their face closely and gripping her chin with his thump settle on the curve of her mouth.

"But you said you like—" Her words intruded.

"Never as a friend did I said". Elias connect their forehead. "It was you who receive it that way". (Y/N)'s eyes darted away, her gaze falling on the dusty floorboards as she struggled to process the sensation. Her heart raced, but not with excitement— rather with anxiety.

Trapped.

Betrayed.

Bothered.

She is feeling her personal space invaded by the intimate touch. The air thick with tension, the silence between them oppressive. (Y/N) longed to break free, to shatter the uncomfortable stillness that had settled over them. But her voice caught in her throat, leaving her unable to speak, unable to move, as Elias' hand remained, a gentle yet unyielding presence on her skin.

Why ? How ? When ? So many unanswered crawl inside her limited knowledge. Everything was going well, perfect yet why did it has to crash so harshly.

"Please, (Y/N) be mine. I can offer you anything you want. Riches, fame, connection, promotion. Say a word and it inside your palm". Slowly he draw their distance and (Y/N) felt utter destroyed by the wave of soft lips press against her. The kiss was harsh, demanding, and devoid of love. Her hands desperate to push him away, however his slender grip her fast, his arms wrapping around her like a vice or more like an beautiful snake wrap around his beloved prey.

Raged filled her (E/C) eyes, loathing the string of fate leading her in such advance, loathing the feel of his lips on hers, the way his tongue probed her mouth without consent. loathing the way he held her, like she was a prisoner, not a willing participant she wanted to grace her loved man her first kiss.

Finally air became a need did the beautiful man separate their interviwned lips, heat bust his pale cheeks, adoring heart pupils onto his eyes, chest heaving with newfound excitement snarling the chance she shove him, spatting words of vemon and eyes blazing with anger. "You disgust me". With that she ran and he let her.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she rushed to a taxi, traveling to her home of trust, sobbing by the betrayal she was returned by the conditional trust she gave after reaching home towards her bathroom was a burl rather her sole focus is escaping the lingering sensation of Elias lips on hers.

Rushed to the sink, gagging at the memory of the unwelcomed kiss. She turned on the faucet, cupping her hands under the running water to splash it onto her lips. Fingers rubbed her mouth harshly to scrub away the disgust moment yet the sensation lingered, haunting her. She gagged again, her stomach churning with revulsion. (Y/N) grasped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white with tension, as she struggled to compose herself eventually her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the white floor, her body trembling with anger and disgust. She sat there, her back against the cabinet, her eyes fixed on the floor as tears of frustration and violation streamed down her face.

The bathroom, once a sanctuary, now felt like a refuge from the trauma of the forced kiss. (Y/N) sat there, surrounded by the cold, sterile tiles, trying to catch her breath, in effort to erase the memory of Elias. The man she thought was her cherished partner, a delightful friend. Where ? Where did it all went wrong ? Where was the wrong step or word she utter to lead such devastating ending or was his whole persona was a facade. A spider wed to trap a butterfly like her and she was a naive little thing to walk right on it.

As the night's veil lifted, the sun rose, casting its warm rays upon the world. The golden light crept over the horizon, banishing the shadows and illuminating the landscape. The rays peeked through the curtains, gently coaxing (Y/N) out of her dark reverie.

Her eyes sunken and dark from the sleepless night, slowly opened alike two heavy doors creaking on their hinges. The golden light danced across her face, highlighting the purple circles that had formed under her eyes. The horror of the previous night's experience still lingered, etched on her face like a shadow.

(Y/N) blinked, her gaze unfocused, as the light pierced through her brain, reminding her of the traumatic events that had unfolded. She winced, mind recoiling from the memory. The usual ray of sun, a symbol of hope and renewal, now seemed like a harsh reminder of the darkness she had endured. She sat up, her body droop heavy, weighed down by the exhaustion and emotional turmoil. The golden light continued to pour in, illuminating the room, however (Y/N) felt not a hint of warmth, not of comfort. Only a sense of dread, a fear of what the new day might bring.

Disturbed by her numb thoughts she called her senior announcing her day off slipping the lie of being sick before declining and about to drift into sleep.

DING ! Her doorbell ring. She ignored. Again. Again. Again. Again and again following with a "(Y/N) ! This is me, your mother and father". Irritated she drag her feet to the front door, opening to reveal her aged parents.

"(Y/N)— what happen sweetie ?" Worry weight her words, touching her daughter's check when she flinch unconsciously frightening both her parents and herself.

"Come inside". Heavy her voice sounded, closing the door and sitting on the chair while they together on the sofa.

The air was heavy, thick with tension. Silence was oppressive, suffocating. The atmosphere was dense, like a knife could cut through it. Slicing through the strained quiet like a razor-sharp blade through velvet. Every breath felt like a struggle, every movement a battle against the crushing gravity of the moment.

"Darling, did you fought with your boyfriend ?" Bravely her mother finally questioned raising her eyebrows.

"Boyfriend ? Fight ?" Her voice trembled.

"Or". The old woman grasp. "Did you break up". Her husband rest his palm on her shoulder while (Y/N) confuse more by their words.

"Boyfriend ? Break up ? What are you talking about ? I do not have a boyfriend to begin with so how can I fight or break up with him ?" Frustration she shake her head as if physically shoving their creative imagination.

"Honey, it's alright. You don't have to hide from us. We understand you wanted to keep it a secret but he told us and we accept him as your boyfriend". Her mother calmly smiled providing a sense of comfort yet all she felt was suffocation and more confusion.

"Okay, at first I was sceptical. He looked flashy, an playboy however he is actually a child at heart, a very good one and is always eager to help". This time her father spoke lacing with a fondness she didn't expect him to talk about someone.

"What is wrong with you ! I never had a boyfriend in my life". She scream her lungs out yet her mother clap her hands on her mouth and her father pressed his lips thin.

"We know Elias is your boyfriend. (Y/N), don't be afraid. We are your parents". Then why ? Then why she doesn't feel the warmth from her parents as if they are distant people wearing familiar faces because the words spoken from their lips doesn't make sense.

"He was never my boyfriend ! Who ever told you that ? Don't assume things on your own". Frustration leaking though her voice, eyes narrowed in a glare and lips in disdain from stress.

"He told us himself. Elias told us when he delivery the cake ! Now don't tell me he was lying". Her father sigh stunned to see her daughter's rebellious side at such age.

"W-what ?" She stutter suddenly the world blurred, the walls melt away like a watercolor painting. The room zoomed out, leaving her suspended in a sea of uncertainty. Furniture and decorations receded into the distance, and she felt like she was floating, disconnected from reality. Their voices turn to distant echoes, thoughts a jumbled mess, as shock wrapped around her like a shroud.

"Why would he be my boyfriend ?"

"Why are you asking us ? You are the one in relationship and you are the one to hid it if not for the good man". Enough. The last straw of her held anger cut.

"G-G-Good man ? Good man ? Good fucking man ! You are calling a man who—who—" Words trailed off, lost in the abyss of her own horror, as she struggled to articulate the vile truth. "A-and that good man—" Despite her effectors the sentences remained unfinished, a haunting echo of her own trauma leaving her succumbed to the darkness of her memories.

"(Y/N)". Her mother's brows quiver and her hand touch hers. "I understand". A sense of relief came to her. Her mother understood, understood her assault by the vile, vile man. "I understand couple fight. They fight a lot and dirty but in the end they fight to be better, to be more loving, setting differences aside fight is normal as long as the couple love each other. You going through a rough patch with Elias is normal. He is a good man, believe your mother's judgment". Her words burn a slap on her cheek and her words were salt on (Y/N)'s wound.

"How dare you !" Her voice shattered the air, a raw, anguished with tears rolling down her cheeks. "How dare you labeled a man who forcefully kiss me ! Get out". Standing up, her eyes close feeling her throat constricted, dry and tight, as shame crept in like a thief, stealing her breath and dignity.

"Oh my (Y/N), couples fights are normal so is kissing. He must have meant it to calm you—"

"So he forced himself on me ?"

"He must not had meant to make you—". Her eyes wide in horror watching their impassive expressions oblivious to her distress she felt a stranger rather than daughter sharing a space now. Their faces blur by her teary vision. They are not her parents. They are strangers. They are not her parents if they slide with a stranger who not only forced himself on her but also lied.

"Get out". She commonded raw, loud and clear walking to her bedroom running from the suffocated, unbreathable small space. Her eyes watched her parents walked away, their figures fading into the distance. She felt a complex layers of emotions and when they turned their heads, she quickly shut the curtains, blocking out the sight of their faces. Her strength couldn't bear to look at them, couldn't bear to see their nonchalant expressions.

Turning away from the window and sat down on her bed, her hands shaking as she reached for her phone. She needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand. Her fingers dialed the familiar number of her best friend, the one person she knew would listen without judgment. The phone rang, (Y/N) felt a lump form in her throat. She was ready to unleash all her emotions, to share the pain and confusion that had been building up inside her. She took a deep breath, preparing to pour out her heart to her friend, the only one who could offer her the comfort and support she desperately needed.

"Hello (Y/N) ! How do you do ?" Her ray of light spoke.

"Emily. I-I-I want to talk to you about something".

"Sure, anything (Y/N) ! Aren't I your best friend". Lighthearted giggles on the otherhand comfort her ears.

"The thing is, remember Elias ?"

"Oh ! What about him ? The hottie". A bitter taste left her lips hearing her sound so oblivious yet she understand it's not her fault.

"Well, yes. He yesterday forced himself on me". Silent was the line for a second before a loud screeching noise came.

"What ? That's messed up !" Her firm and resolute voice felt a weight lift from (Y/N)'s heart, a sense of validation wash over her. She was no longer alone in her outrage and hurt. Emily's words were a balm to her soul, soothing her raw emotions. Feeling seen, heard, and believed.

"I knew it you woul—"

"But you see we have to also must see his point of view. He must had done that in desperation to be more than friends with benefits with you. I know normally friends with benefits should know their limits but he is a kind, pure and perfect man for you". As fast as the ray of light came, that vanished in front of her soaking her in cold reality, numbing her heart. Icy truth seeped in, crushing her soul.

"W-what are you talking about Emily ? I never had that kind of relationship with him !! Didn't I told you ?" More tears cover the dry ones, confusion lay on her mind to wonder how each important person to her is on his side.

"Gosh ! (Y/N) forgive me actually Elias told me about your relationship. He was even ashamed to admit it at first before whole heartedly declare his romantic feelings for you that even I was touched". Lies. Lies and lies. Gritted her teeth she decline the call, throwing it on her bed.

Madly her lips parted to scream. Ha ! What a wicked man he is, feeding lies to her loved ones, snatching them away from her and all in an blink of eye and right under her nose. How idiot was she to not notice ? How ? How ? How ? Rage pump on her veins and emotions controlled her rationality.

Swifty she call his number, clenching her fist. "Hello darling, I was waiting for your call". His sickly sweet voice came from the other line.

"Stop this you fucking bastard ! Stop these mind games ! Stop the lies". (Y/N) glare at him though phone.

"Ouch ! Calling my love lies, games hurt more than I expected. I guess this is the power of loving someone. Huh ?" His laughter was like a taunting to her, racing her pulses.

"I will kill you !" She threaten.

"Oh how lovely it is to have your hand on me as I take my last breath". She throw the phone across her bed in disgust and helpless not aware he is driving to her house. Finally obtained the moment he was so patiently awaited. The time to have her vulnerable and alone.

Wasn't she sound so cute right now ? He bite his lips betting she looks more adorable.

Spoiled. Growing up he was spoiled by everyone, every meeting face from his childhood, once they look at his face, they drastically change their behaviors, showering him with free gifts, praises and all, regardless of old or young. He was the beloved of their hearts, the king ruling their minds. Thus, growing up being spoiled wasn't new for him, the admiration stares mixing with some disband doesn't affect him why ? Because that means they are jealous of him. Ha ! Who wouldn't, he didn't view his arrogance as bad, he simply believe it as his confidence nothing more, nothing less after all all women confess to him one after another non-stop yet never did he loved any. Until that fateful day he went to the shopping mall of department store meeting that adorable woman, all red, blushly for him. It amused him to end, what a pleasant play toy to enjoy for sometimes however the drastic change due to her professionalism was a behold see.

She was nothing like the woman he saw that day. He almost tricked into thinking she forget him.

"We met once again, Miss (L/N)"

"Of course, Sir Elias".

Good, she didn't forget him. She simply wanted to act professional. How fun. He enjoyed nailling his usual performance that for some reasons always got him claps, praises when in reality he just does it naturally because he has nothing else to do. Unlike other people investing in their hobby, he has nothing. Perhaps because of that he is used to being pampered, loved and given anything he wish.

However why ? Why once again like yesterday after the event end did she not stay to convey meaningless string of words like others ? Always running away like an lamb catching sight of an wolf. Boring. Elias care not to pay attention to her after all many have dislike him but thousands who love him. The next day encountering her again was a pure game of fates but after noting her little consider habits did he realize she loves him.

Because if she doesn't, who will notice the uneven box of lipstick replacing with the perfect one ? If she doesn't, why she glance at him so many times ? Often smiling and appearing cheerful ? If she doesn't, why she always remembers his drink from the one time he ordered ? And so much more.

She must love him. Right ? Oh ! Oh ! How naive he was to not realize her blunt feelings for him. It's okay he has fallen for her too. Yes, Elias, the man who usual pampered has this sudden desire to pamper his beloved, watching her daily or even seen a glimpse of her flutter his heart like never did before. Their accidental brushes of fingers and shoulders sent him jolts of delight. Once seen her beautiful face could his lips curve to smile itself.

It's okay he will wait. Wait for her to confess and him accept. One week pass, two week pass. Maybe she is playing hard to get. Understandable she must be waiting for the perfect moment to confess that must mean he has to appear perfect right ? Daily he spent hours in front of mirror selecting the perfect outfit, smoothly care his hair, highlight his beautiful face. First it was only limited to changing outfits to style his hair daily to cut his hair in more desirable way to only repeat the routine. Each passing day he is refining himself then why ? Why ? Why didn't she even compliment him ? Let alone confess to him already ? He dolled himself up almost—no surely daily yet what is she so timid about. Til he realize —actually she isn't timid at all.

Rather she is not in love with him. How he got to know ? Because he was hastily ran to the mall, very giggy to meet the heart of his life when his breath stuck in his throat. In front of him a scene of (Y/N) tying a middle aged man's tie that came untie and she welcome him warmly in return of his thanks before talking warmly to the staffs asking if any needs they wishes to have, even helping a woman who's having trouble wearing lipstick and non-judgmentally explaining their products to others.

She is actually not in love with him. She is just nice. As if the gods played a ridicule game to him still his hatred was directed to the gods not her. How could he blame her ? She was a naive little thing. Sooner of later she will come to love him. That's why one day he asked her.

"Do you like me ?"

"Yes, As a good friend !" What a dishearten words.

"I like you too." In a romantic way were the words he choose to not speak. It's okay, if she doesn't like him now she will in the future. All she needs is time. He has to nurture, sewed and take time to built the love or else how it would be possible. First he has to make her alone. Alone to reply on him. And only him.

And the gods were at his side to grace him with the opportunity on golden plate he was used to. Using the excuse to delivery the cake to her parents house was the first step to isolate her. So he did what he was naturally gifted at, winning hearts regardless of age. Quickly they were head over hell, swooning at his lies about their secret relationship and more lies about their wish to keep it a secret as she want to disclose it on her own term. Fools, her parents were and naive his (Y/N) was moving closer to him. Showing him pictures of her friends, spewing all of her work related words and he silently memorize her password so when she went to use restroom or busy checking her tasks, he smartly save all of her contacts.

Charming her friends, dancing them at his rhythm against her, saying they are friends with benefits where he was unfortunate to fall in love and finally he invited (Y/N) home and confess his passionate love.

"You disgust me".

Well, didn't it end badly ? It's alright she will come crawling to him. Right inside his embrace all willingly. Elias will be the bigger person in here, forgiving her amuture mistakes because he loves her.

Ring ! Ring ! Elias stand in front of his beloved house, ringing the doorbell. The finale came and his patient broke all lose. This is the moment she has to be his and he hers.

"Mom, Dad ! I told you—" Her breath hitched and instinctively tried to slam the door shut, but he was too swift, too potent. His hand darted out, arresting the door's momentum with a firm yet gentle touch, and he stepped across the threshold with a fluid motion. The door creaked in defeat, surrendering to his quiet strength. (Y/N) retreated, her heart racing like a wild animal, as Elias's eyes seemed to delve into her very essence. His presence was a palpable force, filling the space with an almost suffocating intensity. With a subtle click, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the doorknob as his gaze continued to hold hers captive.

"What's the hurry hmm ?" The gentle smile contrast to the violent actions was ironic. Unfazed he step forward. She step back.

He advanced, his footsteps deliberate and purposeful and (Y/N) retreated, her own steps faltering in a desperate bid for distance.

With each step he took forward, she mirrored with a hesitant step back, her eyes fixed on his, her breath caught in her throat.

"What are you doing here ?" Alarm danger ringing inside her entire body, sending mix signals to her flight, fight or freeze mode. All she felt being hovered by him was fear, no longer the anger fuming her veins.

"Just here to visit my darling". In sing song manner he told, walking until his wild cat cornered. (Y/N) feeling the wooden wall of her kitchen immediately run away near the stairs.

"Just stay there—". Her words cut off.

"Do you love me ?" Using the same honeyed coated voice he asked.

"I will call the police Elias !" She threatened

"Do you love me ?" He bore his lagoon eyes into her (E/C) ones.

"Please stay away".

"If you answer. Do you love me".

"No. I don't". She spat, bewilded by the fact he would wish for her to love him even after the twisted games he played with her.

"Then will you love me ?" Her face contorted in mix of anxiety and exasperation.

"No". Nodding calmly to her denial he picked the nearby kitchen knife scarying her further.

"No. No. No. No. No. Elias ! Please don't do this—"

"I must or else you won't be mine". Saying she was ready to sprint for her survival however he pressed the knife to his throat, tears streaming down his face like rivulets of sorrow, his eyes pleading for her. "Please be mine or I will kill myself". He gaze fondly at her widen ones.

"You are crazy". She whispered not expected such move.

"Yes, I am for you". A sly, mirthless grin spread across Elias's face, his lips curling upward in a macabre smile. "So will you love me ?"

Tears swelled in her eyes, fear and despair mingling watching his steady hand inch the sharp blade closer.

"No wait !"

"Then say do you love me ?" He whisper alike to the sweet nothings hushes. "Because without you why must I stay alive". He added.

"Okay okay I will say it". She doesn't know. She doesn't know why she says it because a twisted sense of desperation clawed at her chest, a morbid longing to preserve the life of the one she loathed, as if his existence was inextricably linked to her own.

"I l-l-lo— I can't". In despair she collapse unable to bear so many complicated emotions and nightmares at the same time in her seemly simple life. Footsteps echoed the silent room as his shoes came to her view and he bend to her level, throwing the knife and cupping her chin like she was a delicate flower despite plucking her roots and held her.

"It's all right you will learn to love me". A happy smile curve his alluring lips that press against hers. This time the is gentle, caressing and lovely as if petals of love is pouring out of his lips silently conveying his words. Slipping his tongue in hers, he trapped her tongue savoring her divine flovours he was thirsty to drink again. Sucking mouthful of air he kiss more, not letting their lips separated for a moment and close his eyes drowning under the moment while she close her eyes motionlessly stilled, letting him do as he please selling herself to him with the price of forever.

As oxygen grew scarce, he parted their lips grinning ear to ear, leaning his forehead to hers.

"This is a lie. All of these are lies you said to others". She utter hopelessly.

"Then let's make it a reality". He suggested however brows frown watching her shake her head.

"Can't. Too much lies to forget".

Chuckly raspy, he kiss once more saying. "Then let's make it the beautiful lie".

FIN

⌜ Once again thank you @meo-eiru for letting me use your wonderful male character Elias and your permission to write this story along thank you readers for reading the story. Hope you enjoy it ⌟

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emchant3d · 9 months ago

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part 2 of runaway bride stevie! modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington pt 1

Eddie Munson is not having a good day.

His phone died last night so his alarm didn’t go off, his bassist is sick so their gig tonight has to be canceled, and his last three Uber rides have stiffed him on a tip.

He accepts a request from some dude named Scott with a terrible comb-over in his profile picture and gives himself two seconds to bang his forehead into his steering wheel in frustration with a closed-mouth scream. Then he dials it back so he doesn’t seem absolutely fucking insane. He can see the suit he’s about to escort to some fucking meeting even though he’d rather be doing any-fucking-thing else, and he pastes a fake smile on to greet him. He’s gearing up to fall into the usual routine of this godforsaken job, but then it all goes a little sideways.

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and then a blur of a body is slamming into poor Scott from behind, shoulder checking him and almost sending him careening onto the sidewalk. The dude pinwheels his arms like a cartoon character, suit jacket puffing up around his shoulders awkwardly, expression so baffled it makes Eddie snort despite himself.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles, and he’s reaching for his seatbelt to see if the guy needs any help - he looks like he might break a hip if he hits the ground - but then a whirlwind of white fabric swoops into his backseat and a loud, desperate voice yells "DRIVE!" in his ear, and he sort of just thinks 'sure, why the fuck not,' and slams his foot on the gas.

The car fishtails a bit and the tires squeal as he swerves into traffic, horns honking after him, and he picks a direction at random, going way too fast for this area of town.

His heart is pounding in his chest, worst case scenarios running through his head. He’s going to get car jacked. He’s going to go to jail for being an unwitting getaway driver. But there isn’t any more yelling from the back seat, just heavy, panicked breathing, and he settles into traffic and slows down to a more normal speed before he cuts his eyes up to the rearview mirror.

Time stops.

It’s Stevie.

He can’t believe he didn’t recognize her the second he saw her, but in his defense, it's not like he was expecting to see his ex-girlfriend in a goddamn wedding dress running like she stole something today.

Pure panic wraps tight around his throat as he takes her in - is she hurt? In danger? Nothing good could have had her sprinting away from her own wedding, but it seems like she’s just shaken up.

His heart calms a bit once her tears dry and they get properly on the road.

And shit, it’s so unfair, because she's just as breathtaking as she was the day they split. She looks just as sad, too, which is certainly not how a woman like Stevie Harrington should look on her wedding day. But seeing her in a gown like that - Jesus Christ. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. It’s like something out of a fantasy, seeing her in the exact kind of dress she used to whisper to him about wanting, the kind of dress he’d once promised to marry her in. Of course, they fell apart before he could even get a ring on her finger, but it still sends his stomach swooping to see the future they’d spoken about come to life.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he can’t help but ask, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Yeah,” she says, voice high and a little squeaky. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Just in my ex-boyfriend's car after I left my fiance at the altar, it’s all fine, it’s chill.”

“Okay,” he says haltingly, delicately, because Stevie Harrington is not the kind of person who says it’s chill, “it’s just that, you know, all of that sounds decidedly not chill.”

“This is so chill. It’s the chillest I’ve ever been, actually - hold on–” she says, and next thing he knows a swirl of silk is blocking his view and he sputters a bit as the train of her dress smacks him in the face, but she’s clambering gracelessly from the back seat and over the console to plop down on the passenger side with a loud huff and a cloud of perfume.

It’s different from what she used to wear. She used to smell spicy and warm, with notes of amber and cinnamon. He’d kiss the little spots in her wrists where she’d spritz it on, trace the veins beneath the tan skin with his nose to keep the scent of her with him.

Now she smells like vanilla and something floral, airy and light. Like he stepped into a bakery. It’s not bad, of course it’s not bad, but it’s…different. Not her.

Or not his version of her, anyway.

This is someone else’s Stevie now, and she smells like fucking cookies instead of home.

Instead of commenting on it, he just tells her to put on her seat belt, and she looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“And wrinkle this dress?” she says, her nose curling a little, and God she’s such a bitch and he’s missed it so much.

“I hate to break it to you,” he tells her, “but some wrinkles are not the worst damage that thing has seen today.” There are small grey splotches on the bodice where her makeup dripped as she cried earlier, and the hemline has some muddy staining from her mad dash on the sidewalk. It’s not ruined, but it’ll have to be cleaned, and a couple of wrinkles will be the easiest thing to get out of the formerly pristine fabric.

He glances over at her in time to see her run her hands over the skirt of the dress, smoothing it out over her thighs. It shifts, the leg slit parting to show her skin, teasing at the hint of a crease where her thigh and stomach meet, and Eddie rips his gaze away to stare at the road instead.

“Probably for the best, anyway,” he says, and he feels her eyes latch onto his profile.

“And why’s that?” she asks, and he smirks.

“Well, pure white? C’mon, Stevie, we both know that’s a lie.” He flashes her a wicked grin and she makes an outraged sound, but a small smile is teasing at her mouth even as her cheeks flush.

She kicks off her heels - red bottoms, because of fucking course they are - and slouches in the seat. She pushes herself up, adjusting in the pile of silk and corsetry she’s been strapped into, and he sees the absolute mountain of a rock on her hand, and manages to bite his tongue about it being the gaudiest thing he’s ever seen.

"So who was the lucky guy?" Eddie asks before he can stop himself, and the glare Stevie gives him could cut glass. “Or lucky woman. Person? Far be it from me to deny you your bisexual rights.”

He probably sounds like a jealous asshole, but he can't help it. He's the getaway driver for his one that got away on her fucking wedding day, and he feels like he deserves to ask a few questions.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel as the silence lingers, but eventually, Stevie just groans, letting her head fall back against the headrest dramatically.

"Don't laugh," she demands, and Eddie shakes his head.

"Scout's honor," he promises, and he swears a wry little grin teases at her lips.

“You were never a scout. You would have been kicked out for inciting a riot.”

“Hey, I just ensured we all earned our arson badges, okay? I did every one of those kids a favor.” Stevie scoffs, and it almost sounds fond.

Then she says, “Tommy,” and he almost swerves into oncoming traffic.

"HAGAN?" he says, louder than he means to, and her hand flies up to grab the oh-shit bar.

“Eddie, Jesus!” she says, glaring at him, and he shakes his head, focusing back on the road.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but fucking - really? “Really?” He can’t help himself. “Tommy Hagan?”

“Yes, really, Tommy Hagan,” she says hotly, like she’s defensive, like she didn’t just leave the schmuck at the fucking altar.

“Well that explains the ring, at least.” She reaches over, smacking at his arm, which, thanks to the aforementioned ring, is probably going to bruise. “Hey, ow!” He glares at her, taking a hand off the wheel to rub his bicep. “Watch it, that thing’s a weapon.”

“Then stop sassing me about it,” she snaps, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms and her face falls into that adorable bitchy little pout he’s always fucking loved, and he looks away again.

He can’t help but glance back over at her left hand. The ring is…certainly something. Giant, square, one big diamond surrounded by other, smaller diamonds, with even more diamonds on the band. It looks heavy and cumbersome and like she’s going to smack it into every wall and door and get it caught in her hair and seriously, he’s pretty sure he’s already got a knot forming on his arm where the thing hit him.

It looks like Tommy walked into the priciest jewelry store he could find and asked for the most expensive ring they had.

It looks like a status symbol.

It doesn’t look like her.

“Apologies, highness,” he says, shaking himself free of his thoughts. It’s not fair to hold her to those standards. He hasn’t spoken to her in years. He can’t know what kind of person she is now.

But there’s still a bone-deep knowing that overtakes him at the feeling of the woman next to him. A sense of deja vu so strong it threatens to knock him over.

A different car, a different time, a different circumstance, but the same person. The same love.

He’d picked a direction at random, but as the streets become more familiar, he realizes he’s heading towards his place. It’s as good as any, he figures, and he shifts lanes, reaching to tap on his phone and shutting down his Uber account.

“You know, I almost expected you’d still be driving that beat up old van,” Stevie says suddenly, and he crows a laugh.

“Ah, Van Halen, you served me well until you almost blew up on the highway,” he says fondly. “Lost her about a year ago. It was tragic. I held a funeral.” She laughs again, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she says, turning that pretty smile his way, and his heart does a somersault.

“That was a very impressive move back there, by the way,” he tells her, “that shoulder check of that old defenseless businessman?” He whistles. “Haven’t seen anybody move that quick to steal an old man’s ride before, really, it should have been documented.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” she says, but there’s a laugh in her voice, and she brings up her hands to press to her pink cheeks. He can’t help but keep digging.

“No, seriously! And sprinting like that in heels? And in that dress? What’s that thing weigh, like twenty pounds?”

“It’s a dress, not a suit of armor,” she tells him, but her smile is growing, making her eyes crinkle.

“Just saying, it was pretty metal,” he shrugs, and she snorts.

“Well, you would know,” she says, and he ignores the way his face flushes in response. She gives a little sigh, wiping below her eye and frowning at the smear of black on her fingers.

“Here,” he says, reaching across her. His arm brushes her leg as he opens the glove box and he’s so fucking normal about it. He pulls out a few fast food napkins, holding them out to her. “No makeup wipes in here, but that’ll help with the worst of it.”

“Thanks,” she says, and she flips the visor down, tapping a napkin to her tongue to wet it before wiping at the mascara tracks running down her face. “God,” she groans, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smear, “I look like a raccoon.”

“A very cute raccoon,” he says before he can stop himself. Jesus, Munson, dial it back. “Like the raccoon that’s about to get the best trash in the bin, she doesn’t even have to ask for it.” Stop talking. “The other raccoons are just gonna give it to her, on account of how cute she is.” He’s gonna throw himself into traffic.

“Did you just call me a raccoon on my wedding day,” she asks. Fine, commit to the bit.

“You called yourself a raccoon on your wedding day. I was just agreeing with you,” he replies, keeping his eyes fixed to the road.

Her eyes are on him - he can feel her stare burning into the side of his face, and his cheeks are going pink and blotchy and God, he’s an idiot–

And then she laughs. Not her polite little contained laugh, either, no, this is that loud, wide mouthed laugh that she hates, that makes her shoulders shake and her head fall back. It’s squeaky and hearty and a little obnoxious and he’s always been so obsessed with getting her to let it out, and he can’t help the smug beaming little smile he gives at the sound.

“You’re such an ass,” she says through her laugh, and Eddie can’t help but laugh with her even if it’s at his own expense, because at least she doesn’t look so goddamn sad anymore.

When they finally reach his apartment complex she’s a little more subdued, but the look on her face isn’t totally heartbreaking, and he’ll take what he can get. He comes around to the passenger side to open her door for her and helps her gather the dramatic skirt of her dress to keep it off the pavement as they head towards the stairs, and he knows he looks like an insane person as he carts a bride down the hall, but he just smiles at his nosy neighbors and lets this cement his reputation as the weird as fuck off-putting metalhead he knows they all think of him as.

He feels a little self conscious as he opens the apartment door for her, sweeping an arm dramatically to allow her to enter first. For the first time since she swept into his car, he wonders if this is a good idea. But it’s too late now – Stevie’s giving him a little smile and stepping into his home, and part of him knows this was inevitable. She may not have called him, but he was always going to come if she needed him.

He follows her inside and tries to calm the pounding of his heart, watching her take in his space, struck all over again by her beauty and the impossibility of her standing here, and silently prays he isn’t going to fuck it up all over again.

this was almost even longer, but I figure 2.5k is enough for a part 2! no tag lists, sorry, but part 3 will be here at some point. thank you to everyone who's had a kind word to say about this au these two are very near and dear to me 💕

#steddie #trans steve harrington #transfeminine steve harrington #stevie harrington #runaway bride stevie #my fic #steddie fic

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emilys-bangs · 2 months ago

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I love you, I'm sorry | e.p

Tags: bau!reader, london!emily, angst, exes who haven't gotten over each other, implied breakup because reader didn't want kids, petnames used twice bc they're still in love duh

Summary: You get the news that Emily is engaged and suddenly find yourself at a pay phone.

Word count: 1.7k

You think of her. Sometimes in passing, a fleeting thought curling around the corners of your head and dissipating in a quick cloud of smoke. Sometimes for longer—pondering, aching. Wondering where she is and how she’s doing. You never satisfy your curiosity, not even by digging for news from Garcia or JJ.

Her name is familiar in your head. But hearing it out loud, spoken into existence when you’re woefully unprepared, makes you startle. The word that tumbles next from JJ’s mouth makes you sick.

Engaged.

It rattles around your brain, renders you useless for the rest of the day. You can’t focus, can’t work, can’t write up paperwork, and if Hotch notices or connects the dots, he doesn’t hold it over your head. The clock hits 5 and you jump from your desk, gathering your things and leaving without a word to anyone.

Calling her is a thought. A bad one. You still have her number, but it’s dusty from disuse, lodged deep in your contacts. You think about it, then shake it off.

Then you spot a pay phone.

A pay phone. How cliche.

You make a beeline for it. One foot in front of the other, until you’re picking up the phone and slotting in the money with trembling fingers. Trembling fingers that know the sequence of numbers, that haven’t forgotten how to call for her.

You wonder if she’s forgotten how to answer.

The dial tone rings. Once, twice, thrice, long beeps that have you tapping your foot on the floor, lip between your teeth. The fourth beep dips into silence and you think of hanging up when a click makes your heart jump.

“Hello?”

The breath gets trapped in your throat, your eyes falling shut. What time is it in London?

“Hello? Is someone—”

“Emily.”

Her sharp inhale travels across oceans.

“Y/N.” Your name has never sounded more uncertain. Stilted in her mouth, like she doesn’t know what to do with it. “I didn’t…” Silence gathers, clogs the line. You grip the phone as Emily clears her throat, “I didn’t recognize your number.”

You don’t know where she is right now. You don’t know what her house looks like, you don’t know if her office is anything close to what you’ve been imagining. Hell, you don’t even know how she looks, if she’s grown out her bangs or cut them again, if new lines have marred her face since you’ve last memorized it. And yet, imagining the displeased knit of her brows is easy as breathing.

What are you doing?

“You’re getting married?” You ask, your voice fading on the last word. It’s something she’d never been convinced of, until you.

Between the fast patters of your heart, there’s silence. Static humming. Hope rises, swift, and crushes swifter still when Emily answers over the roaring in your ears.

“I am.” She says. Her tone is even, blank. Carefully smoothed out, an emotionless front that you’d learned to shoulder your way past a long time ago.

Figures that her walls are up again, the locks changed even though the keys are still in your pocket. Someone else holds them now, apparently.

It hasn’t even been a year. 11 months and two days and she’s already found someone.

Mark? Matt? Fiancé.

Your stomach turns.

“Why?” You whisper. “You’ve only known him what, a year? That’s not—you can’t possibly love him.”

Emily laughs, the edges of it razor sharp. “What has love gotten me?” Static wraps around her voice, muffles it, but the bitterness comes through crystal clear.

“Don’t say that.” You swallow, closing your eyes against hot tears. “Please don’t.”

A low sigh comes through, the phantom heat of it tickling your skin. “It’s setting myself up for heartbreak, amor. I can’t go through that again.”

You ignore the nickname on her tongue, the way it sounds bitter, like the ashy remains of a burnt cigarette. You also ignore the weariness to her voice—the word heartbreak—because the two of you are opposite reflections in the same broken mirror. What you did to her, she did to you.

Still, you ask with a dry throat, trembling fingers, because your love for her is sewn into your bones.

“Then why marry him? Jesus, Emily, you’ve only known him a few months—”

“He’s giving me a family.” She interrupts. You pause, words dying on your tongue, because even through the phone you can hear the longing in her voice. “A kid. I’m—I’m fourteen weeks.” Her whisper turns feather-light.

The stretch in your lips tells you your mouth has fallen open.

“Pregnant?” You breathe, curling your fingers into a fist. Weakness settles in your knees; you grasp the dirty wall of the phone booth, your ragged exhale warming it up.

“Yeah.” Emily’s tone wilts. A slow breath fogs up the speaker. “I’m gonna have a baby.” She says wistfully, her voice already changing, softening.

A baby. The one you couldn’t give her—the one that forced a wedge between the two of you, and then an ocean. Eyes falling closed again, you see Emily’s stomach curving, then you see it pressed into a faceless man’s body. Bile rises up your throat, souring your words.

“You can have a baby without him.” You’re pleading, why are you pleading? She’s not yours anymore, even if she isn’t his. “Please, Emily, don’t—”

“I don’t want to do it alone. Have you thought about that?” The sudden sharpness of her voice makes you flinch. “He’s a good man. He’ll be a good father.”

The words ring hollow in your ears. You shake your head, almost unable to reconcile them with the woman on the phone. “You’re settling.” You say flatly.

“I always thought I would.”

“It’s not fair to him, Emily!” You yell. “He’s a fucking person, not some pawn in your game.”

“I won’t hurt him,” she grits out. You’re shaking your head again, pacing the claustrophobic box of the telephone booth with the wire tugging you back. “I won’t break his heart. And he won’t hurt me, either.” She sounds so…clinical. Off. Like the London cold has robbed her of her warmth. Or maybe you have. “He can’t.”

Not like you did.

“Jesus.” You dig a fist into your eye, the ridges of your knuckles forcing back frustrated tears. “Do you realize how that fucking sounds? You’re using him!”

For a moment Emily is quiet. Your ragged breaths fill the silence, until movement crackles on her end and her voice comes through, low and steady.

“I love him enough, and I’m fine with it.”

Part of you wants to sob. Not because she’s getting married, but because she’s doing it like this. When you let her go you wanted her to be happy, even if it tore your chest open. In the end your chest did tear, it cracked, it ached, but for nothing.

“Does he know that?” Your voice breaks. God, when did you start fighting for her fiancé? It’s wrong, everything’s wrong and you just want to slam the phone but you also want to bottle up more of her voice to haunt you later. “You’re lying to him.”

Just like she lied to you. It’s like it’s in her blood, a twist in her tongue that makes it impossible for her to be straight with anyone. Some irreparable, broken part of her mechanism.

Her silence speaks more than her words. You shake your head, eyes burning, a bitter laugh of your own crawling up your throat. “London hasn’t been doing any good, has it? You’re still the same.”

“I’m not justifying myself to you.” Emily snaps. You catch the way her voice trembles underneath, your words finding the chip in her armor. Good, you think twistedly, even as a sour taste floods your mouth. “He knows what I can give, he’s seen it, he’s fine with it. I want this,” she breathes out; it reaches you in tumultuous waves. “He’s giving me what I want.” But she doesn’t sound firm anymore, her words tinged with a desperation you can hear through the phone, across an ocean.

The street blurs beneath your tears.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

Emily exhales raggedly into your ear. You can’t see her, but you think maybe she’s crumbling, thumb to her mouth like it always is without your hand to pull it away. Maybe her hand is on her still-flat stomach, natural instinct guiding her protection to the soul growing inside her body. When you close your eyes, tears dip past your lashes, searing as they burn a path down your cheeks. Let go, you have to let go. Of her, of the phone. But your hand is still tightly clenched around both.

A stuffy breath reaches you. Maybe she’s sick, you think idly; she never did have the strongest immune system.

“It…it wasn’t going to be you or nothing, you know.” Emily finally says, hush quiet. Your heart bruises further, but it doesn’t chip into smaller pieces—you’re down to the bare bones of it, and you can’t spare any more fragments to be crushed beneath Emily’s heel. “This—it’s the one thing I’ve wanted, for so long. I told you that, love. I couldn’t let go of it.” The tremble is clear in her voice now, the hard edges worn down to something familiar.

A breath shoves its way down your lungs. The sound you make is embarrassing, out in the air before you can trap it. Emily continues, soft again as if you were back her lover.

“I couldn’t let go of it,” she sniffles, wobbly from something you now know isn’t a cold. “You couldn’t give it to me, that’s okay, I wouldn’t have asked you to. But he can. Life doesn’t stop on…love.” The last word cracks.

“Mine did.” You whisper, watching small drops of rain patter on the concrete beneath your feet. You could try to deny it, try as much as you want to try and fool yourself, but you’ve been stagnant since she left. A hollow, pathetic shell, because you would’ve given her the world but not a kid.

“Don’t marry him,” you warble, pleading again as if she’d listen. “Please, Emily.”

“I have to go,” she says quietly. The rasp in her voice stings your eyes. “Take care of yourself.”

The tone rings before you say goodbye.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fics #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #fic #divider by saradika

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razorblade180 · 5 months ago

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Home Warfare

Ruby:*on call* …(Maybe he’s busy?)

Jaune:Hello?

Ruby:!? S-Sup! Just checking in. How was the flight back home?

Jaune:My stomach has stopped flipping. It’s the little victories that matter.

Ruby:I still can’t believe you went back home for break. Isn’t it your first time back since…lying?

Jaune:Yeah, but it’s not like they know that part. Plus I’ve kept in contact. You’re not going back to Patch?

Ruby:Yang did. Dad is actually taking a mission so if o went back I’m basically house sitting.

Jaune:You don’t want to see your old friends?

Ruby:I can do that when I pick up Yang. Making a big deal out of it feels awkward. Have you been smothered with affection yet?

Jaune:What do you mean?

Ruby:It must be a big deal continuing your families legacy; especially in your hometown.

Jaune:Probably, if I meant anything.

Ruby:Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?

Jaune:Just because I’m at Beacon doesn’t mean anything. Not like my grades are stellar or I’m a different person. Still the bullied twerp that left and the son with low expectations. I’m only really here because I have to come back eventually.

Ruby:….

Jaune:Ruby?

Ruby:I could’ve went with you.

Jaune:That’s nice, but why would you?

Ruby:Because you sound miserable! It’s not like I’m doing anything. I can’t do too much about people giving you a hard time but showing up with a new friend has to mean something.

Jaune:I gotta be honest…you being here would make this place bearable. I honestly forgot how…small it felt being here at times.

Ruby:Would you like me to be there? I can take an airship tomorrow, seriously.

Jaune:If it’s really okay, sure. I’d love to see you.

Ruby:Cool. I’ll be your moral support!

Jaune:Haha, thanks. Well I have to go. Dinner is almost ready. Wish me luck.

Ruby:Good luck! *hangs up*

Weiss:*walks in* Oh, you’re still here.

Ruby:It’s our dorm! Why wouldn’t I be!?

Weiss:What I meant is I thought you’d be running around doing anything but being a hermit. Even Blake took a trip.

Ruby:…Weiss? I have an offer you can’t refuse. One that involves the mall, your opinion, and freedom from me.

Weiss:Go on.

xxxxxxx

The next day, out in town

Papa Arc:So what exactly was your role in all that again?

Jaune:I came up with the plan against the DeathStalker.

Papa Arc:Can you really consider a couple callouts a plan? Especially when you didn’t lead the charge?

Mama Arc: Harold! Leave him alone! I think it’s great he’s trying.

Harold:Persephone, trying is one thing, achieving is another. Can’t have him getting full of himself.

Jaune:(Or having any confidence at all.)

Persephone: The year has only really just begun. There’s leaps and bounds a C-student like our boy can make given enough time and focus, hopefully.

Jaune:…

???:He’s actually a B-student thanks to me.

Jaune’s head perked up. He recognized that voice anywhere. He turned around to greet Ruby but was left speechless the moment his eyes found her.

Combat boots were abandoned for red flats. The leggings he had known her for were abandoned for black thigh-highs with rose petals on them. The combat skirt had been stolen and replaced with black jean shorts with a red belt while her corset was swapped for a half shirt with long sleeves that went just past her hands. Jaune might not have recognized Ruby if not for the cloak!

The girl’s hair was noticeably a little wavy and a rose clip kept her bangs out of her face which showed off a modest amount of dark eye shadow that matched new lipstick. It went with her black fingernail polish he noticed as she waved with her left while rolling her luggage over.

Jaune:R-Ruby?

Ruby:Hello~ fancy seeing you here. Although I do remember saying you’d be visiting your dear family. I guess these are your parents! Hi! He’s mentioned wonderful things about you.

Persephone:And not enough about you! Ruby, was it?

Ruby:Yep! Ruby Rose. Jaune’s actually the first person helpful person I met at Beacon; as well as my dorm neighbor. We’re always comparing notes and helping one another as leaders of our teams.

Harold:You’re also a leader of a team?

Ruby:R-W-B-Y. Team RWBY. Hehe, I know I probably don’t look that impressive but I promise you, I know my way around the battlefield.

Harold:…You said my son is B-student now.

Ruby:Mmhm. He has a better memory for history than I do so as token of appreciation, I helped him with Grimm anatomy and practical skills. Your son is quite a fast learner. You must be so proud.

Jaune:I-

Harold:Well he has his ups and downs but of course he has his merits.

Persephone:Anyways…what brings you all the from Beacon?

Ruby:There’s a weapons convention not too far from here. I’m a real nerd for this stuff. Figured I could use my break to stay a couple days and check the exhibit. Is the Arc family presenting any armor or swords?

Harold:You know our history.

Ruby:Of course. I know your son, and he’s quite proud of it the same way I’m proud of my mother and her accomplishments. It’s probably why we get along so well, besides him being raised well. Take it from me, there’s some real jerks that let linage go to their heads.

Persephone:Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing! Jaune! I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned her more!

Jaune:I said I was making friends who get me.

Persephone:Ruby? Is your inner room already booked? If not, you can gladly stay with us while you’re here.

Ruby and Jaune: What?

Persephone:It’s not a problem at all. We never get to meet Jaune’s friends and you must only make so much money while being students. We have plates to spare. Isn’t that right Harold?

Harold:Yes, I’m…curious to know more things about my son.

Ruby:Well…if you insist.

Persephone:Wonderful! We will set things up and take your stuff now. Jaune, show Ruby around the town.

With no more room to negotiate, Ruby gives her things to Jaune’s parents and watch them get far enough away before letting out a sigh. Coincidentally, he did the same.

Ruby:No offense to your parents, but I’m really impressed how nice you are. I heard a little bit of the conversation before I said anything. They’re…a real piece of work. They look like they mean well though.

Jaune:You aren’t wrong. Thanks for showing up when you did. By the way… what’s with the new look?

Ruby:It’s like I said, I’m good on the battlefield. I figured the best way to shut up your hometown enemies was to give them something to shut up about. I’m not one for fashion so i asked Weiss for help finding a look that fits me. Honestly I still think I look awkward.

Jaune:No you’re gorgeous! Like some cool goth badass that’s cu- cute.

Ruby:*red*…Hehe, well thank you. I might not look like it all the time but I really like first impressions. A few people have noticed me on the way in. Guess Weiss went a little too hard, but that works in our favor. I doubt people will pick on you as much.

Jaune:Honestly they might be jealous if they see you with me.

Ruby:Is that a problem?

Jaune:Absolutely not. It would be hilarious.

Ruby:Haha, then lead the way. Show me your old stomping grounds.

Any worries he had faded away instantly. Jaune happily took Ruby’s hand and began walking. The girl was stunned for a second before getting close enough to lean on the boy. Honestly, she could get used to this.

#rwby #ruby rose #jaune arc #weiss schnee #rwby lancaster

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kenzie-floops · 4 months ago

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Visions of You: A Lilia Calderu x femaledivination!reader

Heyyyy this is my return to fanfic, but it's been a while so I'm a bit rusty. Constructive criticism not insults please! If you don't like it.. don't read it, it's that's simple.

This will be the first part of a new series I'm working on called Visions of You. Reader is a female divinations witch, around the same age as Lilia, but physical appearance is up to you. More will be revealed later, but a happy ending is in store!

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, or taken off, let me know!

Warnings: cussing

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KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

I roll over and peep open my eyes to look at my alarm clock. 12:42. What the hell is someone banging on my door this time of day for?

I push myself up out of bed, and wrap my robe around myself as I make my way to the door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

“I’m coming, i’m coming!” I shouted. Could they bang any harder on my door?!?

I quickly grab the front door and thrust it open, blinking quickly at the sunlight.

“Yes? What do you need so urgently you almost banged my door down?” I grumpily ask the two strangers standing at my door as I attempt to wipe away some of the groggy sleep from my eyes.

“Oh!” A shrill voice pipes up. “Sorry about that, we’re just in a bit of a rush. Didn’t mean to give you such a harsh wake-up. Although it is past noon on a weekday…” The voice trails off and I snap my head up.

I had to pick up an extra shift last night at the club because one of the other bottle girls had gotten sick. That meant working on my feet for longer than usual, and I was definitely tired from the extra hours.

“Listen kiddo, i work the night shift down at the club and i’ve only been asleep for a couple hours, so excuse me if i’m a little grumpy at the fact some kid was banging on my door while i'm trying to rest” i huff out with impatience. “Now will you kindly get off my doorstep? I don’t want your cookies, or t-shirts or whatever the hell it is you’re selling”.

I turned to close the door when the woman I hadn't noticed standing next to the teenager spoke.

“Seriously, Y/N? Working at the local club? I didn’t think you had the guts for stripping” she says while snickering.

I bristle at the insult. “Now just wait a minute here. I’m not a stripper, I'm a bottle girl! And who are you to throw around judgment, showing up on my front door when I don't even know…” I trail off as i get a good look at her face and recognize just who’s come to bother me. No way…

“Well holy shit!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. I lean against the door frame and look her up and down slowly. “Now that’s a face I haven't seen in a few centuries. Agatha fucking Harkness! Can’t say I've missed your presence. What brings you to my doorstep?”

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Mind if we come in?” she questions as she gestures inside.

I throw my head back in laughter before turning around to go inside, leaving the door ajar.

“Sure!” I yell over my shoulder. “Come on in. I’m gonna make some tea.”

Both Agatha and the boy trail after me into the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy following my movements as he takes in my kitchen. It’s full of dried herbs and flowers hanging from faded yellow walls. I fling open my aged brown cabinets and rifle around for a mason jar of tea leaves.

As I prepare my water to boil and place the tea leaves in a sachet I ask “So, what brings you by Agatha? Looking for me to join you on one of your latest murder sprees in the search for some powerful totem?”

I turn from the counter to face them, seeing that Agatha has already made herself comfortable at my small dining table. The boy was standing awkwardly behind her.

I look the boy up and down and raise my eyebrows at Agatha. “What’s with the boy?” i question, “Finally taken on an apprentice to teach your dark and evil ways to? He seems quite young to be following in your trail of corrupted darkness.”

The boy goes to respond, but Agatha cuts him off. “No, no, no, this is Teen and he’s…” She trails off a bit and I go to finish pouring my tea. Teen? That’s a strange name. Whatever. He got himself involved with Harkness, not my problem to deal with.

“ A pet. Yes!” she exclaims, clapping her hands. “He’s my pet. Now listen Y/N i have a proposition for you.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Agatha, I really don’t know what’s got you at my house stirring shit up, but I can assure you I'm not interested. If your undoubtedly dangerous proposal was all you came for, you best be going now.”

I move to usher her out the door before ‘Teen’ shouts out. “We’re going on the Witches Road and we want you to join us!”

He looks down a bit sheepishly as I give a bug eyed stare.

“Please?” he hesitantly asks. “We need a divination witch and the road will give you what you want most if you join us.” He’s gotta be kidding. The Road is a death wish.

I swiftly turn to Agatha, who shakes her head in exasperation at Teen.

“Really, Agatha?!” I exclaim, throwing my hand up in the air and moving wildly around the room. “The Road is a death wish. No one makes it through. What have you deluded this poor boy into thinking?”

“She hasn’t deluded me!”, Teen replies. “It was my idea actually.”

I bury my head in my hands. No way am I joining Agatha Harknesse’s coven to journey down the Witches Road. I am not that crazy, despite what some may think and say.

“Oh hell no. Thank you but no thank you for the offer. I plan on staying alive for the foreseeable future. Harkness, take the boy and leave,” I whip around to face her, “ and please don’t come back. I don’t need whatever's got you spooked enough to go on the witches road coming after me”.

“Oh come on!” she exasperatedly yells. “We both know you’ve been searching for something you’re never gonna find Y/N.” How the hell does she know about that? I’ve never told her of my visions of her. But then again, I asked around for decades. Maybe she caught wind of it through the grapevine of the witch community.

“Travel the Witches Road with me” she offers. “The Road will give you what you want most when we reach the end”.

“If we reach the end” I interject. “If.”

She’s right though. If i join them, and can successfully make it to the end of the road it will tell me how to find her. All those visions of her for all those years… Her beautiful brown eyes, her soft curly hair. What I wouldn't give to see her smile for real, and not just in a vision.

I sigh heavily as I bring my eyes to Agatha’s. I’m seriously considering it, and for a moment I almost say yes… but I know Agatha’s reputation. Even though at one point I would have liked us to be friends, I know I can't trust her. Going on the Road with her would be certain death, and then i’d never find her.

“Agatha…” I start. “I can’t. I just can’t. Now if that's all, get out of my house. I’m tired.”

“Ok, ok” she says, lifting her hands in mock surrender as she turns to leave.

Unexpectedly, Teen makes his way towards me. “Here” he says as he places a card in my hand. “This is Agatha’s address. Be here tonight at 6:30 if you change your mind, and I hope you will” he says as smiles.

“Teen!” Agatha barks from the doorway. “Come on! We don’t have all day”

Teen runs after her, and as suddenly as they had woken me, they left, and I was there to sit with my own thoughts.

At least my tea has cooled off enough to drink.

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@end0r4

#agatha all along #lilia calderu #agatha harkness #lilia calderu x reader

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lesservillain · 6 months ago

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inmate!eddie munson x reader

cw: SMUT, henry creel is your ex, a threat of violence, divorce talk, baby talks

July 26th, 1996

“It’s been a whole year,” you turn the radio down to better get Eddie’s attention, “we should go out or something! I know everyone was busy tonight, but let me take you to like Enzo’s. Or Benny’s even.”

Eddie leaned for the knob, turning the radio up again. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he yells over the music, banging his head around and tapping his legs along with the beat. “All I need to celebrate is you and whatever that new little number is that you’re hiding under those clothes.”

You turn to him, cheeks feeling hot as you’ve been caught. The smug look on his face annoyed you, “How do you know I’m wearing something new?”

He hums with a smirk. “I saw your bra strap when you were messing with it earlier,” he says as if it was obvious, “I know what your bras look like, didn’t recognize it.”

“You’re insane,” you laugh as you pull into Steve’s empty driveway.

“Hey, not insane, just very observant of the things that are important to me,” he unbuckles his seatbelt, hoping out of the car and trotting over to your side to open your door for you. It was one of your favorite quirks of his, especially because the looks on peoples faces in public when a rough, six foot tall man covered in tattoos opens the driver door for his girlfriend are priceless.

As you start walking to the front door you notice Eddie isn’t behind you, still standing next to the car with an unreadable expression on his face. Normally it wouldn’t bother you since he spaces out every once and a while, mostly when he’s nervous or upset you’ve come to find. But, he’s been acting like this for the last couple of days and it’s starting to concern you.

Your morning drives to drop him off at work have been quiet compared to the usual lively talks you two have. He’s also been staying at work later, calling you to pick him up close to sundown as the summer has gone on. One night he told you he was too tired for you to come over and was going to have Steve pick him up. When you tried to bring it up, he just brushed it off saying that he was just tired from repairing the A/Cs for half of Hawkins cars.

“Eddie?” You ask gently.

He looks at you for a brief moment, eyes barely meeting yours before he starts walking down the driveway. “G-go ahead, I’m gonna grab the mail.”

“Okaaaay,” you say to yourself.

When you enter the Harrington residence, you find it to be dead quiet, which is to be expected since Robin and Steve both had plans for tonight. But, what struck you as odd was that they had left several lights on…

Eddie came through the door a few moments later, his full attention on the stack of mail he’s flipping through.

“Anything good,” you joke, unsure why he’s so laser focused on junk mail. He walks past you, setting all but one envelope on the counter.

“Oh, uh, no-,” his voice is shakey, and you can tell his breathing is off.

“Hey are you-”

“Hey, look at this!” He waves the envelope in his hand, finally giving you his attention. “This says it’s to ‘Mrs.Munson,’ isn’t that weird?”

You reel back, head shaking at the confusion. “Eddie, I thought you said your mom passed? Why would she get mail here?”

He shook his head, “No, it can’t be for her. My mom and dad never got married, so this wouldn’t be for her anyway.”

“What the hell?” You’re totally confused now, “Open it and see what it says?”

He nods, taking particularly good care not to rip the envelope too much. You feel like you’re in an episode of the twilight zone between the letter and his odd behavior today. He pulls out the contents of the envelope, which looks like a single folded piece of notebook paper. He opens it, and you can clearly see the shaking in his hands now. You’re suddenly hit with a wave of realization.

“Eddie, is that from your dad?” You ask, placing a hand on his arm. He won't even look at you, he just hands you the paper for you to read.

The first thing you see is your name.

“What the-”

“Please read it.”

You look at him, but he refuses to make eye contact, body shifting with a nervousness you’ve never seen before with him. When you look at the paper again, you recognize the sloppy handwriting.

Hi, sweetheart. You’re probably really confused right now reading this, and I know I gotta be a nervous wreck right now as I watch you. After a year of spending almost every day with me you’d probably agree that I’m not afraid to say whatever I’m thinking out loud. But, I wanted to go back to our roots for this.

There are times where I’ve wished things were different. Where I could have the time that I lost in that jail cell back. I just wanted to do something for Wayne, but I would have rather had those years to spend with him instead. I missed out on a lot with the kids, and I was sure that the CC boys were gonna kick me out for ruining our chance to make it big.

But if there’s one thing I can say made it worth it was you. You showed me that I can still be loved after all that I’ve been through. You didn’t know me before, but you put everything you believed in aside to give me a chance and I don’t think I could ever express how much that means to me. But I want you to give me the opportunity to try for the rest of our lives. Sweetheart, will you marry me?

As you read that last sentence, you notice your body starts to shake. Nervously, you lift your eyes from the paper, and in the time you were reading Eddie had managed to get down on one knee in front of you.

“Oh my god,” it comes out shakey with a nervous laugh. You have to wipe the tears away as they cloud your vision to admire the ring he’s presented to you. The two of you have never talked about rings before, and yet he managed to pick the perfect one.

Your teary eyes meet his. Those big, chocolate buttons look at your full of hope. It makes your knees weak. You shake your head, “Yes, Eddie. Holy shit, yes.” You let yourself fall into him, arms wrapping around his neck. He squeezes you tight, and you can feel the air leave his lungs as he sighs in relief.

Time feels like it’s still in that moment. Since day one Eddie has made you feel more loved than you ever have in your life. It’s not that you never imagined a life married to Eddie, quite the contrary. You wish you had a dollar for every night that you’ve counted the freckles on his face, wishing that you’d been doing this with him instead of laying back to back with your husband for nearly 10 years. But, the two of you hadn’t talked about getting married. Not seriously that is. He would joke at home, calling you his wife, “Mrs.Munson”,“baby momma,” the latter you thought was because of how much of The Maury Show you two watched together on your days off. Now it felt like a serious conversation you would need to have, a pin to later be pulled.

The sudden sound of the shades moving over the sliding door pulled you out of the moment, and you realize the door was slightly opened. Then, a loud voice from the backyard yells, “GUYS I’M PRETTY SURE SHE SAID YES!” Followed by a symphony of cheers and whistles. When you pull away from Eddie, he’s beaming so bright it’s blinding. And suddenly the sliding door is pushed open and your friends begin pouring in, cheering and congratulating as they enter. Eddie stands as everyone piles in, pulling you up with him. The train of embraces begins as Robin clamps you in with a bear hug. Steve joins in, wrapping the both of you in a big embrace filled with giggles.

You look over and see Eddie and Wayne hugging it out. Wayne’s patting his back, laughing about something Eddie must have said. The kids and his band boys stand around them waiting for their turn. When Robin and Steve finally let you breathe again, Max and Jane are next to congratulate you.

Max sticks out her own hand, showing you a ring on her finger. “Lucas asked me a couple months ago,” she gushed. You grabbed her hand and admired the ring, it wasn’t over the top, very subtle to fit her personality. “I couldn’t tell you though, Eddie was too nervous that he wouldn’t be able to hold off asking if you knew.”

“Oh my god, Max, that’s amazing,” you pulled her in again, swaying her side by side excitedly. You looked over to Lucas, giving him a cheesy thumbs up that made him blush and shake his head.

Next is Nancy and Elanor, with Jonathan standing just behind them. Nancy’s belly pushes into you as she pulls you in for a tight hug, Elanor wrapping her arms around you from the opposite side.

Then it was Wayne’s turn for hugs next, Eddie finally letting him go after giving him a “Let me go boy, gotta congratulate the newest Munson!” When he pulls away, he leaves one arm around you in a half hug and leans in close, but still speaking loud enough for Eddie to hear. “Listen, if you change your mind let me know, I’ll distract him long enough for you to run.”

“Hey!” Eddie shouted over his friends, “Don’t give her any ideas over there, old man!”

After everyone finished making their rounds, the party migrated outside. Sitting around the fire, Eddie kept you planted in his lap, arms wrapped around you tight. While you’re talking, you realize that everyone had managed to flawlessly pull one over on you. Not a single person even gave you the slightest idea what was happening today.

“You don’t remember us looking at jewelry at the mall?” Nancy laughed.

“Nance, that was like, what, 5 months ago?” You shook your head in disbelief, “I barely remember saying anything about what I like!”

“You didn’t have to,” she said with her arms crossed over her bump, “I just watched what you looked at, paid attention to what you scrunched up your nose to and what made your eyes go wide. Then, I reported back to Eddie and let him do the rest.” She nodded to Eddie, who looked bashful at the admission of his friend.

“I picked it out on my own, though,” he said defensively. “Well, Lucas was there, but that was a coincidence.”

You just shook your head, leaning in to plant a kiss on his chapped lips. The whole night your head was swirling with excitement. There was the nagging voice in the back of your head reminding you what it was going to take for the two of you to make getting married possible, but you let yourself worry about that later. Tonight was about you and Eddie, and you made sure to let him know how much you were grateful for him.

“Ooooooh god —SHIT, fuck babe that mouth is-“

Pulling off of him with a pop, you roll your hand around his head and lick from base to tip, making his whole body shudder above you. His grip on your head only gets tighter as you let him sink as far into your mouth as you can handle. Taking his hands in yours, you place them on the side of your head, and when you look up into his eyes you can see his pupils swallow up the remaining brown, leaving two black orbs looking down at you.

Everything with Eddie was so different, but the sex was on a completely different level for you. With him, sex didn’t feel calculated or like a chore. He was so giving all of the time, which took a while for you to get used to when you had gone so long measuring your worth based on being a pleaser. Once when Eddie ate you out and came in his pants, he was embarrassed, sure, but you had almost cried because you didn’t feel like you had deserved how good he made you feel. He wasn’t having that, though, making sure to let you know at every opportunity he could that just being with you was enough for him.

“Fuuuuuuuck baby~ God your pretty mouth feels amazing,” he pushes himself all the way to the back of your throat, holding it for a moment. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes. His hands shift, one settling under your chin and the other gripping the top of your head. He slowly eased out, letting you take no more than a second to breathe before he starts bullying your throat again.

Drool is dripping down your chin, cheeks hollowing around him as he trusts. He uses his grip to pull you forward gently, bending you at the waist. Fully nestled in your throat again, Eddie bends down to grab a handful of your ass, smacking it to watch the recoil. You moan at the feeling, and his cock twitches in response.

“Alright, gotta get you up here now or else I’m gonna bust,” he says as he pulls out of you abruptly, lifting you up from under your arms and tossing you into the bed. You eye him giddily as he tore the rest of his clothes off with reckless abandon, squealing when he pounces on you. Hot and heavy, his hands are all over your body, your fingers tangling in his grown out hair. You know what his next move is going to be, but before he can begin his descent you hold him in place.

“Not, tonight” - kiss - “need you.” ne of your hands snakes down gripping his length, rubbing the tip against your aching clit, your body jumping at the feeling. His head rolls back, any protest dying on his tongue.

“Shit, okay, anything you want, baby girl.” When he takes over for you, there’s a sudden tension as he lines himself with your entrance. He looks at you, and you look at him. Something about the heat of the moment that makes you want to give in to carnal desires, but before he can make a move you lean over, opening the drawer and pulling out the foil. You don’t miss the tight lipped smile he makes as you open it, but when your hands are on him as you slide the condom on, he seems to forget his qualms.

When he finally sinks into you, he doesn’t give you much warning before he’s going at the same brutal pace he had on your throat. “I’m never gonna get used to how good you feel,” the praises fall from his lips, each one stoking the flames inside you. Adding his thumb to your clit has you gasping, orgasm washing over you and leaving you seeing stars.

The chorus of curses coming from Eddie paired with sloppy thrusts signaled his own release. He pulls out, throwing the condom away and flopping boneless beside you, face planting into the pillow. You laugh at his goofiness, still coming down from your own high with hearts in your eyes. Hearts for your fiancé.

You sighed dreamily, taking one if his curls between your fingers, longer now in the year you’ve spent together. His head turned slightly, one eye peeking out looking at your hand. He stared for a moment, until he suddenly snapped his mouth at you, pretending to bite at your fingers. You pulled back your hand and burst into a fit of giggles. He took the opportunity to roll into you, acting like a monster and “attacking” your face with kisses.

“Stoooop you’re tickling me,” you say as you try to push him away. You have to pry his arms off of you so you can climb out of the bed, legs wobbling as you make your way to the bathroom. He reaches out to smack your ass as you do, you flip him off in return.

When you came back to the bedroom Eddie had his pajama pants back on, and was sitting up in the bed with a look on his face that made you worry.

“What’s wrong,” you question, his head snapping up to you like you’d scared him. He shook his head innocently.

“Nothing’s wrong, Sweetheart,” he stuck his arms out in your direction, making fun of the needy way you beckon him to bed most nights. You weren’t falling for it.

“Edward James Munson, don’t lie to me,” your hands are on your hips, standing naked in the doorway. He gulps at the use of his full name. You’re not really sure how to decipher that reaction with the way his body straightened, but that’s something you’d save in your mind for later.

“It’s nothing,” he exhales, shoulders falling, “I just figured, ya know, with us getting married now that we, I don’t know, we would maybe stop with the, uh, condoms…” His voice trails off at the end but you still heard him loud and clear. Grabbing Eddie’s shirt he had tossed aside at the beginning of the night, you climbed into the bed next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He returned the sentiment, kissing your temple before placing his chin on top of your head. “I’m sorry, if it's not something you’re ready for-“

“No, you’re right,” you take his hand and squeeze, “I really only wanted to use them for precaution sake. Not that I thought you were dirty or anything. And I got tested after I found out Henry was cheating, so I knew I was clean, too. It’s — I just figured it was the right thing to do? Right?”

Eddie wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer with a chuckle. “Sweetheart, I think you miss understood. I’m not offended that you want to use condoms, I promise. I was more so talking about…” he shifts a bit, “I meant like, you know, trying for a b-baby.”

A cold chill makes goosebumps rise on your skin. You knew it was coming, knew that you’d have to pull that pin, but you weren’t expecting it to be tonight, not so soon.

Your silence makes Eddie even more nervous, “I mean, only if you want to have kids. We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just, you know, with me turning thirty one, I thought that sooner would be better than later...”

Eddie bringing up his age only reminded your own clock was ticking, too. But, even though your clock ticks, the hands don't move.

It was something that you had to face by yourself for a long time, since Henry didn’t seem to feel the need to comfort you, rather ridicule you for your inability to do the “one thing you were meant to do” according to him. When you finally did get pregnant, only for it to end too soon, Henry only made you feel worse.

After a while you convinced yourself to stop caring.

Now you feel like maybe it never happened for a reason, rationalizing that your body was just protecting you from being permanently attached to the bastard. Thinking that way helped heal some of the hurt, but deep down you knew something had to be wrong with you.

“Eddie, why do you think Henry and I never had any kids?”

He stills for a moment, unable to see his face to gauge his emotions. When he responds, his voice has a hint of uncertainty.

“Uh, I honestly didn’t really think about it. I try not to think about you with anyone else, like, ever if I’m being honest.” You gave him a slap on the leg, making him turn his lower half away from you playfully. “If I had to guess, it’s got something to do with him. You like kids way too much for it to have been a you problem.”

Your lip wobbles, because he’s not wrong. You became a teacher for a reason, and you’ve enjoyed the times you’ve gotten to spend with your nephews and Nancy’s daughter. It only makes the lump in your throat feel thicker when you realize you have to say the next words out loud.

“Eddie,” his name comes out strained, “I don’t think I can have kids.”

And then the dam breaks. Sobs wrack your body, both with tears of sorrow and a sense of catharsis as you can finally come to terms with what you’ve been harboring inside for so long. But the tears aren’t all for you, but for Eddie, too. Tears of guilt, knowing that you were broken, hoping that maybe he didn’t want kids and it would be a non-issue. But that’s not fair. You should have brought it up sooner. Would he even want to be with you if you couldn’t have his kids? Would he just look for someone else, too?

Eddie is immediately in comfort mode, pulling you into him more as he lets you cling to him, chest wetting with the tears falling from your eyes. He doesn’t push you to stop, just rocks with you as you let out your grief.

When you finally start to calm down, he’s pulling you away so he can look at you, thumbs wiping away the tears that still sit on your cheeks. He tells you to take some deep breaths, feeling better once you do.

“I hope those tears aren't from you thinking I’d be upset or something,” he said, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. “Because I’m not, and I hope I didn’t come off that way-“

“No! God, no Eddie,” you say shaking your head, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms, “no, I just, I mean— I want to be able to give you kids, if you want them. Really bad, actually. But it’s not a matter of wanting, it’s a literal “I don’t think I can” thing. I only ever got pregnant one time our entire marriage and I ended up miscarrying…“

“Oh my god, that’s terrible,” his big eyes are filled with sympathy for you. “Nance and Jonathan had one a couple months before she got pregnant with Ellie. Nancy was a wreck, and I should have been there for her. But it happened the same week as Wayne’s heart attack, and I couldn’t leave him. It was a cluster fuck of a week.”

You were shocked to hear about Nancy. You’d become pretty close in the last year but she’d never brought it up before. Not that you’d ever mentioned yours to her, either, but you’d never have guessed. Her daughter, Elanor, had become your little buddy at the Harrington get togethers when everyone was drunk, finding a 4 year old to be more entertaining than a slew of belligerent adults.

“But, uh, you did say you got pregnant, right?” He asked with a smile. You nod. “See, that’s a good sign then. It can still happen. Maybe you're only compatible with Munson DNA.”

His optimism wraps around you like a blanket, and for the moment you let yourself believe he might be right. Even if it’s going to hurt in the future.

“So, you’re not going to leave if I can’t have a baby…” You don’t make eye contact with him as you say it. He grabs your chin, lifting your head to make you look at him in the eyes.

“Hey, I’d be happy to get a pet rock with you if that’s what you want. We could try and raise some house plants together, but I’m telling you now that when I tried to grow my own weed it didn’t work out well.”

You slide down the bed with a groan, unable to hide the way Eddie’s words have affected you. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of your chest. To finally get it out there, and feeling confident enough to believe Eddie’s words that he wants to stay with you anyway is an indescribable relief.

He leans over to smother you with kisses again before sliding down himself, pulling you into him once more.

September 14th, 1996

Of all days, it would rain today.

Almost a month ago you had Henry served with divorce papers. You’d taken care of everything, making sure all he had to do was sign. You foolishly assumed that it would be something he’d be on top of, considering it’s been over two years since you’ve been separated. Meaning it's been two years since him and the girl he cheated on you with became official. He married you pretty quickly, and you’d figured he would want to do the same to her before she could get wise and leave.

But, here you are. Knocking on your old front door in the rain to confront your husband on why he insists on making things more difficult for you.

“Coming!” You hear a chipper voice call from inside. You roll your eyes, because of course she has to be here, too. The door swings open, and her face lights up with excitement when she sees you.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” She squeals, stepping aside to let you in.

“Hello, Missy.” You were trying to avoid looking at her, the sound of her voice was enough to grate at your eardrums. But when she stepped to the side, your eyes were immediately drawn to the large bump under her sweater. You just stared at her, unmoving, unsure how to process what you’re feeling in the moment.

“Who’s at the door, dear?”

You hear his voice call from another part of the house. It snaps you out of your trance, the anger you were trying to keep at bay boiling up again. You walk inside, heading into the kitchen, leaving Missy to follow behind you.

“Henry,” you cross your arms as you stand in the entryway of the kitchen. Henry’s head snaps up from the book he’s reading, eyes wide when he sees you, wearing the same face as the day you confronted him about his infidelity.

“Ah, what a surprise,” he tries to recover, putting on the mask of arrogance he always wears. “How nice of you to stop by.”

You roll your eyes at his faux pleasantries, maintaining your stance in the doorway. “I’m sure you know why I’m here,” you cut to the chase, not wanting to draw this out any more than necessary.

“Are you here for lunch? I just got breakfast put away so you may have to wait a little while, but I’m making chicken salad!” Missy walks past you, grabbing Henry’s mug and refilling it with coffee. It makes your skin crawl as you watch. She brings the cup back to him, something that you’ve done many times over, now the thought only makes you cringe.

“Darling, why don’t you go rest your feet? I’m sure your stories should be on soon,” Henry kisses her hand. Missy nods excitedly, leaving the room with a wave to you as she does. As soon as she’s gone, the air in the room is sucked away with her. The facade has fallen, Henry’s face morphing into an all too familiar scowl.

“I’m assuming you’re here because of the paperwork you so graciously had served to me,” he stands from his seat at the table, moving around to walk towards you slowly.

“Your assumption would be correct.”

He peered down at you, blue eyes darkening from the shadow of the bridge of his brow. The intensity of his stare almost made you falter, but you’d been practicing for this, in case he tried to size you up like he’d done for years. You doubled down, remaining still as stone even when he’s only mere inches away. You weren’t afraid of his disappointment anymore.

His lips curled into a smile when he noticed you weren’t folding, nodding his head with a small “hmph.”

“You never returned my call, you know.” Your eyes rolled at his dismissiveness. Huffing out a sigh, you decided to at least entertain him a little bit. He was only going to keep on with this if you didn’t.

“Didn’t have anything to say,” you shrug.

He takes a step back with a slight bow, looking towards the ground, “I see. Was there perhaps a reason why?” He straightens up again, the corners of his lips pulling into a tight grin, “Too busy with another man’s dick down your throat to try and work it out with your husband, perhaps?”

You reel back, completely put off guard by his words.

“And a felon’s at that? Honey,” his tone is condescending, and you feel your fortitude slipping, “you know if you were that desperate you should have just come home.”

Your blood runs hot with every word he speaks. “But I guess you felt the need to prove something to me, or yourself. Doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that I’m not going to be signing those papers.”

Your hands shook, balled at fists by your side. You wanted to swing one, punch him right in his pathetic face and give him a taste of his own medicine. But you couldn’t, you knew that’s exactly what he wanted. And you couldn’t risk the cops showing up with Eddie outside waiting in your car. Henry would absolutely try and pin it on him to get him back in jail. All just to spite you.

Taking a deep breath in, you straighten up, giving him a smug look as you lean against the door frame. “That’s fine, you don’t have to sign them. But, and you may want to listen very carefully to me when I say this. I’m going to make your life a living hell if you don’t.”

The devilish smile on his face drops in an instant, morphing into a sneer.

“If you actually read the paper in full, which you clearly haven’t,” you see his eyes dart to the side to an envelope on the counter, likely the one he was served with, “I stated in my filing that the divorce was mutual. That I wanted nothing from you, and if there was no issue with you signing, then we could both walk away from each other with our dignity. But,” you raise your brows, lips tugging into a forced frown, “if you want to play this game, then let's play. The divorce is going to go through anyway, and I’m sure you know that. You also probably know that adultery doesn’t have much leverage in the state of Indiana. But…”

“But?”

You wonder if it’s the tone that you’re speaking to him in, or if it’s the fact that you’re standing up to him for the first time in your entire marriage that’s making him fume to the point he’s speaking only through gritted teeth.

“But, it doesn’t look very good when you’re using our combined finances to pay for the two of you to go to,” you use your fingers to count as you talk, “Hawaii, Italy, Mexico, which I heard really nice things about the resort the two of you went to. Um, where else, Cancun I think? You also shouldn’t have used the bank account to buy her nice new car that’s parked out in the driveway, which you put in her name for some stupid reason. Didn’t think about that because you paid in full for it, did you? You also probably didn’t know that I still have the ability to ask for the statements for that account even though you closed it. That’s okay, I didn’t know either, but my lawyer is really good and gave me that little tip.”

If it were humanly possible, you know steam would be rolling out of his ears. You’ve never seen rage on him like this, and a couple years ago it would have scared the shit out of you. But you had the upper hand for once in this exhausting marriage, and you weren’t going to let up.

“That’s an awful lot of money that went towards your adultery, isn’t it? And you’d have to pay all of that back to me, on top of at least fifty percent of your liquid assets. Maybe more if I felt like telling them you kicked me to the curb to live in an apartment in the middle of the year when I wasn’t working. So, go head, don’t sign the papers. The person that the dick that you’re so concerned about me having down my throat is attached to and I are going to start looking for houses soon, and it would be amazing to pay cash for one. Hopefully you’d still have enough money to pay all your bills and raise a new baby, but that’s not really my problem.”

In an instant he’s backing you into the wall next to the entryway. It happened so fast you didn’t have time to react, only watching as his fist began to rear back. A million scenarios run through your head in the seconds you brace yourself for impact. Funny enough, you’re more worried about Eddie. Because if you walk out of here with a black eye, you know there’s a possibility he’s going to jail for murder. Fully admitting to it, too.

It’s like slow motion as you watch his hand begin its descent towards you. Remembering what you read in a self defense book, you put your tongue at the roof of your mouth and clenched your teeth. Holding your breath, you wait.

But the blow doesn’t come.

“Henry!” you hear Missy’s sing song voice shout from your-- their bedroom. When you open your eyes, you see Henry frozen in place, crazed look in his eyes as his fist hovers next to his head. Your body tells you to move, in case he changes his mind. Run. Run. Run.

But you’re more afraid of what he might do to her if you do.

“Henry?” Her voice is closer now, and Henry jumps back. His eyes are on the hallway entrance as Missy waddles back into the kitchen.

“Oh, good you’re still here! I wanted to give you this,” she makes her way over to you, handing you a small envelope with your name on it in her handwriting.

“It’s an invitation!” she exclaims, waiting for you to take it. You stand there for a second, looking at Henry, whose face is unreadable at the moment, and then looking back to Missy. After a beat, you slowly take the envelope out of her hand. She claps excitedly when you do.

“Darling,” Henry’s tone is cautious as he addresses Missy. It reminds you of a zoo keeper approaching a lion in its cage. “That might not be a good idea.”

Her head tilts when she looks at him. “Why? You told me to invite whoever I wanted to the shower, Henry. I want her to come!”

What?

You open the little envelope, because there’s no way, right? This bitch didn’t just hand you an invitation to the baby shower for the baby of the man you’re still legally married to. Like you know she’s not the brightest, but this…

You bust out laughing as you read the card.

“This is a joke right? You’re just fucking with me to get a rise out of me, right,” you look at her incredulously.

“Huh? What do you mean,” she looks genuinely confused. It only makes you feel worse because she’s dead serious, and your hatred starts to morph into concern. Henry takes slow strides towards her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. The delicacy in his movements is something foreign for him, at least to your eyes.

“Missy, dear, it’s not… not in good taste to invite her.” The way he speaks to her is not what you imagined. You were expecting him to talk to her like a child, slow and condescending like he tried to do with you. But he didn’t.

“In good taste? Henry, you told me I should try and make more friends. So I’m trying to make friends. I know she’s a lot older than me, but you and me get along even though you’re almost my dad’s age.”

Every word out of her mouth gave you whiplash, like being on a rollercoaster. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this point, so you decided it would be best to just leave.

“Um, I will…let you know if I can go…later,” you start to back out of the kitchen, “I should probably go now, though. So, um, Henry,” He looks over to you out of the corner of his eye. You were expecting disgust as he looked at you, but instead he seemed…dejected?

“I’m assuming that we’ve come to an understanding?”

He’s still for a moment, his eyes drifting back to Missy, “I’ll have everything taken care of tomorrow.”

Relief washed over you, your body easing up after all that had transpired. You gave him a curt nod, then turned on your heels and booked it towards the door.

Just as you were turning the handle, you hear Missy call your name. She hobbles her way to you, and you try not to cringe as she opens her arms to you.

“Thank you for coming by today!” She wraps her arms around you. You let her get it out of her system. “Feel free to come over any time. Henry told me I don’t have to work anymore, so I have a lot of free time if you ever wanna hang out. Oh, would you wanna go with me to look at baby clothes? There’s a store at the mall I’ve been wanting to go to but haven’t had the chance to go yet.”

Every fiber in your being wants to tell her to fuck off, but you just feel sympathy for her instead. At least you have friends. You know Nancy, Robin, Max-- shit, even Steve would be begging you to take him shopping for baby stuff if you and Eddie ever have a baby.

This whole situation feels like a sick joke to test you. Is this what you had to deal with just to have the happy life you wanted?

“I--Missy, mmm,” you’re battling yourself as you speak, brain exhausted from the last hour, “Missy, you don’t have any family that can go with you? Friends?”

“I have family, yeah, but all my siblings are younger. My mom died a couple years ago, so I basically had to raise my siblings myself while my dad worked all the time,” she said the last part came out with mere annoyance. As if being forced to raise your siblings wasn’t something that could be extremely traumatizing for a person. “And my friends are all way smarter than me, so they went to college in other states. I miss them a lot, but most of them don’t call me anymore. Actually, none of them call me…”

Fuck.

“Okay, you know what, fine. I’ll do it,” you spit out, feeling disappointed in yourself for caving in to her sob story, “I’ll go with you. I have some friends, one of them who has a kid on the way, too, who could probably help you. I’ll, um, talk to them and give you a call.”

She’s quiet for a moment, until she suddenly bursts into tears. You panic, not sure what you said wrong, until she trusts herself onto you again, hard belly pressing into yours as she hugs you. Her tears wet the corner of your shirt, and you pat her on the back. Looking up, you see Henry watching the interaction from down the hall. He shakes his head before going back into the kitchen.

“Oh, thank god,” Eddie yells from the car, pacing on the grass next to the sidewalk with a cigarette in his mouth, “I was about to call Hopper if you didn’t come out in the next ten minutes.”

You didn’t say anything, still trying to process everything that just transpired. You get a sick feeling in your stomach when you think about it too hard, so you just let yourself fall into Eddie, burying your face in his chest. Tossing his cigarette since he knows you don’t like the smell of the smoke, he wraps you up tight, kissing the top of your head.

“Do we need to stop at the store for some treats on the way home? I’ll get your favorites,” his words wash over you like a waterfall of comfort, “And we can stop and get a couple movies. Maybe bother Robin and El for a little bit while they work?”

You smile against Eddie’s chest, remembering that everything you’re doing was because of him. When you look up at him, he wastes no time smooching you all over your face. He lets you vent to him in the car, not interrupting as you give him the play by play. You leave out the near miss with Henry, not wanting to stress Eddie out more. He already hated Henry enough as it is.

“Are you actually gonna take her to the mall,” Eddie looks at you with an open mouth smile, the whole situation with Missy just tickling him as you go on.

“Ugh, I feel like I should. I don’t know,” you groan, “What do you think?”

“Well, I want to say that you’re being too nice to the girl who was the downfall to your marriage. But,” he crosses his arms with a shrug, “I’m on her team because she’s technically the reason we’re together. Don’t do anything that would make you uncomfortable, but if you think it’s something that you can handle, go for it.”

Tears soak the front of your shirt as it covers your face, your body shaking silently as you lay curled into a ball on the couch. Eddie had fallen asleep hours ago, but you couldn’t. You were in your head, dissecting everything about your interaction with Henry. It all started when you started to feel guilt for leaving Missy there, knowing that Henry could be violent if he wanted to. But then you started thinking about how he acted around her. The softness in his touch, his gentle voice. He wasn’t even that sweet with you in the beginning of your relationship.

The fact that he told her to make friends after convincing you to push all your friends away really got to you. Because he knew that if you told your friends the things he did to you that they would tell you to leave him. But he was encouraging her to make friends. Was he not abusing her like he did you? It didn’t seem like it. Missy might not be the brightest, but she also doesn’t seem like the type to not let it slip if Henry were to do something to her.

But then you have to ask why is it different with her? Why did you never get his soft touch, his gentle voice? Was it just because she was pregnant? Did he even love you?

“Sweetheart?”

Eddie’s voice startled you. The click of the lamp had you rushing to wipe away any evidence of your crying, but the sting of the fabric against your swollen eyes only confirmed that you were a mess. Eddie drops to his knees in front of the couch, face level with yours so you can see the way his eyebrows are pinched with concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, princess?” His hand caresses your cheek, thumb wiping away any straggling tears. You take a deep breath in, trying to regain your composure, but when you think about speaking your thoughts out loud your throat goes dry. The sadness bubbles up again, you can feel the damn ready to break the longer he looks at you with those big, brown sympathetic eyes.

Without a word you watch through clouded vision as Eddie stands and walks back down the hall.

Oh, no. This is it.

He’s finally realized that you have too much baggage. That he’s made a mistake and he’s gone to pack his bags to leave. He’ll tell you he’s going to Steve’s to let you cool off, and then he’ll call the next day and say that things aren’t going to work out after all.

And you wouldn’t blame him. You knew that there was no way someone as broken and unlovable as you would ever deserve someone like him. You should have told him no when he asked you to marry him. It’s for the best-

“Are you able to get up?”

You blink away tears. You hadn’t even noticed that Eddie had walked back into the room. When you don’t respond after a moment, you feel his arms slip under your knees and shoulders, hoisting you up and pulling you into him. The sound of water running gets louder as he takes you down the hall, and when he pushes the bathroom door open with his foot, you realize that he’s filling up the bathtub, the only light coming from two candles sitting on the inner edge of the tub. He lowers you down, sitting you on the edge of the tub so he can test the temperature of the water with his hand.

“Is it okay if I undress you?” He asks as he wipes his hand off on the towel he’s set aside for you. You nod, still in a bit of shock at the tenderness he’s giving you. In the back of your mind you know that you shouldn’t be, that this is absolutely something he would do for you. But you’re still in the headspace that you’d learn to escape to when you were with Henry. You can’t comprehend being deserving of his kindness.

Every touch and manipulation of your body as he undresses you feels like he’s taking another layer from your body. Layers of guilt, shame, self hatred. Peeling away the last bit of shed that stuck to you from the bad conditions of the habitat you lived in for almost 10 years. He takes his hand in yours, admiring your ring, your new ring, that he gave you as a promise to love you for the rest of his life. A promise that you’ve heard before, but you wanted nothing more for it to be real this time.

“Will you get in with me?” You don’t look at him, eyes on his hand that holds yours. But you hear him grin, a hum of satisfaction as he stands.

“God, I thought you’d never ask,” he says as he pulls off his clothes with haste. You can’t help but giggle as he struggles getting his foot out of the leg of his sweatpants. His face lights up at the sounds of your laughter. He bends down to give you a kiss, soft and sweet, taking that last bit of sadness with him when he parts.

November 10th, 1996

“Dustin’s house is in this neighborhood,” Eddie says as you drive slowly down the street, the both of you keeping an eye out for a “For Sale” sign. The realtor you’d been working with called you at six in the morning that day to tell you that this house had just gone on sale and it was yours and Eddie’s dream house. She had said the same thing about the 3 other houses she’d shown you, but to her defense you were being extremely picky. After being the only one to clean the house for as long as you did, you knew what was easy to maintain and what you absolutely weren’t willing to deal with. Eddie thankfully was on the same page after making it his responsibility to keep the 4 bedroom, 6 bathroom Harrington house in ship shape for the entire year he had lived there. So a single level home with at least 3 bedrooms was enough for the both of you.

“Awe, it would be nice to live close by for when he comes home to visit,” you’re taking in the other houses in the neighborhood as Eddie drives, trying to gather ideas for how you might decorate the front of your future home.

“Being closer to Claudia would be nice, too,” he says as you slow to a stop at an intersection, “It would be easier to just walk to her house to mow the lawn instead of running across town.”

Driving a few more blocks down, the sale sign finally comes into view, your realtor’s minivan that you’ve come to recognize over the last month parked in the driveway. You pull in next to it, and immediately you’re happy to see a two car garage. The house looks promising from the outside, too. Dark brick, a small covered porch that could fit two chairs, a decent front yard with some space where you can plant some flowers; you could feel yourself getting excited and you hadn’t even left the car yet. Eddie opened your door, giving you a look as he holds his hand out for you to take it.

“What,” you match your smile to his, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he keeps your hand in his as you close the car door.

“Whatever, Munson,” you tease, the two of you walking to the doorway of the house.

The door opens before you can even knock, Chrissy standing on the other side of the exterior glass door. You can tell by the look on her face that she’s very excited to show you the house, hands on her belly bump as she shuffles back and forth giddily.

“Come in, come in,” she squeals as she pushes the door open, stepping to the side for Eddie and you to enter. “I watched you from the window and I can already tell this is the one. As soon as I saw the porch I knew you’d love it. But once I got to look around in here, I’m willing to bet you’re going to want to put an offer in.”

From what you can see from the doorway you were already impressed. The open concept living room and dining room was just big enough that you wouldn’t feel cramped, but not too big that you would hate to clean it. The large window brought in lots of light, making you think back to Eddie’s comment about house plants. Maybe it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

As she showed you around the house more, you were checking off things on your list of needs at every turn. Three spacious bedrooms, master bathroom and a walk in closet, kitchen with an island. The backyard was even fenced in, and you were already mentally mapping how you would set up a garden. Everything was perfect for you, and the look on Eddie’s face makes you think it’s perfect for him, too.

“So,” Chrissy places elbows on the counter, looking at the both of you with big, blue eyes, “Are we putting the offer in today or what?”

Eddie looks at you with wide eyes and a toothy grin, his hand gives yours a squeeze. Your heart flutters at his eagerness. The three of you talk about putting in an offer. Of course there had to be a catch, which was the asking price being ten thousand more than your budget, but Chrissy said that the owners were out of state and just trying to get rid of the property so they didn’t have to keep maintaining it. After deciding on a price, you and Eddie go out to Benny’s afterwards to celebrate.

“Eddie, the house isn’t even ours yet,” you say as you listen to him go on about turning the garage into his music area for him and the boys to play.

“Yet,” he emphasizes, “I bet we’ll be in there before Christmas. Shit, maybe before Thanksgiving if they’ll let us. Not like they need to get anything out of there.”

“We’d still need to get furniture,” you’re trying to play devil’s advocate, mostly to keep from getting your hopes up.

“We can get furniture. And it’s not like you don’t have the essentials at the apartment. We don’t have to make everything perfect on day one.”

“Ugh, I hate when you’re right,” you lean back in your seat, failing at keeping your excitement at bay. “It’s a good thing we ran into Chrissy and James at the mall.”

“Jason,” he corrects as he shovels fries in his mouth, “and me, too. Didn’t think I’d ever be happy to run into Jason Carver again, but I guess fatherhood can change a man.”

“Or, maybe you were both just stupid teenagers back then, and now you’re in your thirties and more mature.”

“You callin’ me old, Mrs. Munson?” The two of you have only been engaged for four months but that didn’t stop him from thinking you were already his wife.

“So old,” you say sarcastically, “That’s why I’m only marrying you for your money.”

“I knew it,” he dropped his fork on the table, over exaggerating his reaction as he feigned outrage.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” you grin, “There is another thing I’m marrying you for.” You look at him through your lashes, biting your bottom lip. He drops his act when he understands what you’re getting at, leaning in close to you over the table.

“Just so you know, I thought about how I was going to fuck you in every room of that house.”

You felt heat rush immediately to your cheeks, shifting in your seat slightly.

“I’m having a hard time imagining it, maybe you need to show me what exactly you’d do to me.”

And show you he did.

November 27th, 1996

Eddie thrusts into you from behind, his weight against your back as he presses you into the mattress beneath him. You were still coming down from your own orgasm just moments before when his movements began to falter. His moans in your ear are accompanied with the feeling of his cum filling you up inside for the third time tonight.

Thank god you have the next five days off for Thanksgiving break. There were still piles of boxes to unpack in your new home, but Eddie was determined to christen every room in the house and you were sure you’d need a few days to recover at the rate he was going, jumping you as soon as Steve and Robin left.

He pulls out of you with a hiss. Hands still on your ass, he watches his cum begin to dribble out of you. “Can’t have that,” he chuckles, and you feel his thumb push the spend back into you, making you shutter.

“Eddie,” you say with warning before he got any ideas. His thumb leaves you, but he gives your ass a smack before jumping off the bed. You’re envious of the stamina he has.

He returns from the kitchen with a drink for you, laughing at the position you’ve put yourself in.

“Hey, Chrissy said it works,” you say with your pillow propped under your ass and your feet crossed pointing towards the ceiling, “and they’re about to have their fifth kid so I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he sets the glass on your bedside table next to a half unpacked box that he had distracted you in the middle of unpacking,“I’m not gonna argue with that. You want me to hold your legs for you, Mrs. Munson?”

“No, thank you,” you pat his side of the bed, “Just want you to lay with me, please.”

He trots to his side of the bed, plopping next to you on the mattress. He gives you a quick peck on the cheek before he mirrors you, crossing his legs and pointing them towards the ceiling.

“Alright, how long do we have to do this for?”

You roll your eyes at him, “At least 20 minutes.”

“Jesus Christ, 20 minutes? I’m already feeling the burn over here,” he puts his hands behind his thighs, determined to wait it out with you.

The two of you finally get settled under the covers, Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, his hands rubbing circles into your back. You bury your head in his chest to block the moonlight bleeding between the blinds, regretting not putting up the blinds before Eddie got to you. The up and down of his chest as he breathes is making your eyes feel heavy, sleep begins to take over you.

“I love you.”

His voice was low, quiet. Just for you to hear.

You knew he meant it. Because he’s shown you his soft voice. His gentle touch. He’s shown you what love is supposed to feel like, not what you’ve been conditioned to believe it is. Every kiss on your face when you’re anxious and every sweet caress of your body when you’re writhing under him. Every fight that has had the both of you steaming where he puts your hand in his because he doesn’t want to go to bed mad. The way he talks about your future, where the both of you have grey in your hair and his mind wanders, only remembering your face

“I love you, too.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson stranger things #inmate!eddie munson #inmate!eddie munson x reader #inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader #eddie munson x teacher!reader

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asuyaka · 1 year ago

Note

Heyy, idk if u're still taking requests or not but if u're not just ignore this!

TikTok really came to drag me down the Satosugu hole by the foot this week goddamn. Anyways, I'd like to request my favorite sad gay boys with a m!reader who's a effeminate soft boy and is usually pretty quiet and cooperative but the second someone says something remotely negative about the two m!reader is already throwing hands and burying the offender's head onto the ground. Bonus point if he's from the Zen'in clan!

No one's ever calling Geto's bangs 'weird' with m!reader around lol.

- '🌈' Anon.

★ - yes! reqs are open !! when the first (yippie!!) one piece one shot comes out s'when reqs are gunna close briefly cause 've got other things m'needa work on! (❁´◡`❁)

☆ - Satosugu x M! Zen'in clan reader!

Lulling chirping sounds sounded through the second-year classroom as the sun began to rise. The sound of sweeping and the screech of desks moving across the table sounded through your ears.

With a gentle hand, you plucked the dead leaves off the bouquet of flowers that usually resided on the window sill next to your seat; plucking off the leaves as well and shaking it so the petals could become more pronounced.

After cutting the stem so water could flow through them, you placed the flowers in their vase and put them in their designated position, a pleased smile on your face when you realized that was the last thing you needed to do for cleaning duty, even though it wasn't your turn.

The door slid open behind you as a tired-looking Yaga walked into class. His eyes widened for a bit when they saw you before his expression turned sour. "Good morning, [Name]. I thought Satoru had cleaning duty for today?"

You bowed politely in greeting. "He asked me to do it because he had to get limited edition crepes today."

Yaga sets his things on the table with an annoyed mumble. "Thank you, please make sure he gets to class on time."

You nodded as you left the classroom. The sun shone down on your face through the windows as you made your way to Suguru's and Satoru's dorms.

You pass by Shoko in the kitchen who was hunched over the counter making a cup of coffee. "Want a cup?" She asks, biting and finishing the remaining pocky in her mouth.

'If Suguru woke up a few minutes ago, he'd want some. Maybe Satoru would like some hot chocolate too.' You thought briefly before turning your attention back to the brunette. "Yes, please. One hot chocolate and black coffee."

Shoko grins at that instantly recognizing the order. "You've got it Mister Zen'in."

You wave goodbye and continue your journey. Suguru's dorm isn't that far from the kitchen so you got there in a short amount of time. You knocked, politely waiting for an answer.

"[Name]-chan? If it's you, you can come in!" Satoru's voice answered.

You open the door to see two bags of delivered crepes beside Satoru, who is painting Suguru's nails black. "See? Got some for you guys 'cause I'm such a nice person!"

Suguru rolls his eyes. "You only got them because you remembered flunking on cleaning duty."

You take a seat beside them, staring at Suguru's black nails. "Yaga says I should make sure you two get to class on time."

Satoru snorts, the tiniest bit of blue peeking out from his glasses. "Yeah, and when have we ever listened to what Yaga says?"

"You don't. Maybe Suguru, but I actually enjoy not getting punched in the head every time you do something stupid." You interject, causing Satoru to gasp loudly.

"Suguru! Do you hear this? I do everything I can to make sure you two are well fed and all I get in return is bullying!" Satoru whines as he sets the nail polish aside to let Suguru's nails dry and picks up the bags with a bright smile on his face.

Shoko kicks the door open with two mugs in her hand. "Here you go losers. Zen'in blink twice if they're forcing you to be here."

Suguru and Satoru stare at you expectingly, an exaggerated gasp when they see your eyes close twice.

Shoko giggles, patting the top of your head affectionately. "Yeah, I'd be scared if I was forced to hang out with them too."

She walks out of the room with a reminder that class starts in a few hours. Satoru brought out the crepes and immediately started eating them as he read the Digimon manga, periodically sipping his extra-sweet cocoa.

"[Name], why didn't you get a drink?" Suguru asks, picking up a crepe carefully so the paint doesn't smudge.

You shrug. "The place I normally get my drinks at is too far to walk in the morning."

Satoru looks at you blankly as he stuffs his face with more food. "I could've teleported, dummy. C'mon, road trip time!" He exclaims as he grabs you and Suguru.

"Satoru, no— you haven't even mastered it yet—"

You feel reality split and your stomach churns uncomfortably for a brief second before everything stills again. The sound of cars blaring runs through your ears as a familiar sidewalk reflects through your eyes. "See? easy!"

"[Name]? Are you okay?" Suguru asks, squatting in front of you with worry all over his face.

Taking a minute to breathe, you feel everything finally settle. You have no idea how Satoru can do that without throwing up. "Yes, I am... okay. Just a little disoriented."

Suguru shoots a glare at the albino who rubs your back apologetically. "Well, my apology is your drink! So come on, I wanna get back to the crepes before Shoko's fat ass eats them."

"Shoko doesn't even like the crepes you order. It's always too much sugar." Suguru defends, slapping Satoru upside the head as the three of you walk into the shop.

It's a small cafe situated inside a bookstore with soft Lofi music playing in the background. The three of you get in line. It's short, most likely due to how early it was but that only meant you could get back to the dorms on time.

You hear snickering behind you but pay no mind. After all, it was a public place, and whatever affairs other people had wasn't your business.

Then, you hear something about how a guy has his nails painted. In the corner of your eye, you can see them pointing at Suguru.

Either Suguru and Satoru notice and they don't care, or they don't notice. Either way, you weren't going to let them poke fun at your friend (boyfriend?) and get away with it.

"Is something the matter?"

They stare at you, visibly sizing you up. "Wondering why your friend has nail polish on, isn't that only for chicks?"

Satoru taps you on your shoulder. "Take it outside, don't want you to beat their ass and get banned, yanno?"

You acknowledge him but keep a sharp gaze on the two of them. "Giving gendered terms to inanimate objects is an extremely stupid thing to do. It is not on you, so why should you care what he has on?"

The implication of calling them stupid seemed to hit a nerve because a vein pops in their forehead and their fists clench. "Cause it's fucking gay. What? You like taking it up the ass too?"

"If a fight is what you want, then that is fine with me. Do not let your petty ideals and quite frankly shitty opinions mess up my morning."

They keep talking as you make your way outside. The instant the door chimes close, a loud groan rips through one of their mouths.

They hold onto their nose, now streaming blood and broken. "Dude, what the fuck?!"

"You wanted a fight, did you not? Now, I am quite busy at the moment so if that is all, then I bid you a good rest of your day."

As you were about to walk back into the store, Suguru and Satoru came out with your drink in hand. "Yo! Here, got the kind you like cause I loveee you so much!" Satoru kisses your cheek and hands you your order, especially as you like it.

"Thank you, Satoru. Would you like to go back to the dorms now?"

Suguru stuffs a cake pop in your mouth, handing Satoru one and eating one as well. "Thanks for... that, by the way."

"It's no problem. You are my... partner, after all."

Satoru grins as he latches onto the two of you again. "Teleportation time, let's go!"

"Satoru, no—"

#writin' shit.#ANSWERED LETTERS — 012 #★: anon!#jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo x male reader #x male reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu x male reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #geto x male reader #suguru x male reader #satoru x male reader #male reader

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lihhelsing · 1 year ago

Text

Stay for as long as you have time

PART I | Find me on Ao3

Part II

CW: Self-hatred and mentions of homophobia

Steve Harrington was fucked.

Like utterly and completely fucked.

He had one moment of weakness and of course, that would come back to bite him in the ass in the form of a gorgeous man standing at Nancy’s door on Christmas. His whole life, Steve knew he was different. Tried his hardest to fit in when it always seemed so easy for other people to just be. Could never lower his guard, could never let the intrusive thoughts arise.

He spent his entire life pretending. All he needed to do was keep going.

It took him years and a friendship with a lesbian trainwreck for him to realize what was always painfully clear to him. Steve Harrington was not straight.

And, as he did with everything in his life, Steve acknowledged it and moved on from it. Just kept pretending.

It’s not like he had any other choice.

But then he just had to go to that bar.

He had gotten into a big fight with Nancy and he didn’t want to go home, so he drove to the bar instead. Chose one he knew he wouldn’t get recognized.

And then he saw him. So gorgeous, with long hair, bangs falling in his eyes, and a smile that would haunt Steve forever. It made Steve’s skin itch with pure need.

He didn’t really think before sending him the drink.

Didn’t really think when the man approached his booth and asked if he could join him.

Didn’t think at all when the way he said ‘sweetheart’ sent his heart into overdrive.

Steve didn’t think. And now he was fucked.

Because the stranger from the bar, the guy Steve had shamelessly fallen for, was here. Standing in Nancy’s doorway, walking into Steve’s fiancé’s living room.

He was here and his name was Eddie Munson and he would be Steve’s ruin.

Steve tried to keep his cool, shook Eddie’s hands like he didn’t know what those fingers felt like wrapped around his hips. Looked away when Eddie’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as if he didn’t know what his mouth tasted like.

Steve did what he was best at: Pretend.

But his resolve was shattered the minute those round brown eyes met his at the door because Steve kept messing it up. Kept stealing glances at him like no one would notice.

But Eddie did notice it. In fact, he seemed to always know when Steve was looking at him.

“Steve, would you come help me in the kitchen with dessert?” Nancy said, and it was clearly not a question. Steve nodded and followed her, Eddie’s eyes on him the whole time.

Nancy opened the oven and picked up the pie, placed her two hands on the counter, and looked him dead in the eye.

“Alright, spill,” she said. No time for preambles.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he shrugged. Knew it wouldn't work with her. She would see right past his bullshit.

“Don’t play dumb, Steve. What’s up with you?”

Steve sighed. There was no way he could keep anything from Nancy, so he just told her everything.

“And the night you met him was…?”

“The night we fought. I’m sorry I walked out. I was so angry. But at me, not at you.”

Nancy nodded. She rounded the counter and stood next to Steve, putting her hand softly on his face.

“You need to stop hating yourself, babe. I'm pretty sure I told you that at least a million times,” her voice was stern, but not mean. Steve could feel the love behind every word.

“I know, Nance,” he said, not daring to meet her eyes. Knew what he would see in them and he wasn't really ready for that.

“There’s nothing wrong with who you are. Fuck your dad," Nancy said, tugging at his hand until he turned his head, and only when their eyes locked did she keep going. "You can stop pretending now.”

The words sunk in and Steve sighed. Nancy was right, as usual. Steve learned from a young age how to hate himself and he’d never stopped. Kept thinking he needed to please his father.

Even when his father hated who Steve was. Even when his father found Steve’s magazines, hidden in his room. Even when his father screamed at him that he would marry a good girl otherwise he could say goodbye to his money and his name. Steve hated himself then, even more.

So when Steve showed up at Nancy’s door, crying in the middle of the night, she took him in. She soothed him. Calmed him. And when Steve begged her to marry him, she didn’t even blink. She said, “If that’s what will make you happy, Steve, I’ll marry you.”

Nancy, who was willing to put her own happiness aside just so Steve would hate himself a little less. Nancy, who had been in love with Robin ever since Steve had introduced them both.

Nancy, who had fought Steve, begged him to see that cutting ties with his family wouldn’t be the worst thing. He wouldn’t ever be alone.

“You should go talk to him,” Nancy said and Steve grimaced at her.

“He probably hates me,”

“The way he looks at you? I would hardly call it hate, Steve. Just go.”

Steve brought the pie to the table and softly tapped on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Can we talk?”

For a minute, Steve thought Eddie would say no. Would tell him to go fuck himself. But then, Eddie nodded and got up.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #Ali's stuff #stranger things

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plush-rabbit · 1 year ago

Text

Weighted Bodies

Pt. 2 to Foggy Minds Word Count: 3.2K A/N: I had some requests for part two of foggy minds so i came up with this!! -

There’s a knock on your door. It’s quick, and curt and you rush towards the door with a pep in your step, your first instinct at such a knock to believe that it’s a package. But you stop short, and you remember that you hadn’t ordered anything. More knocks follow- rapid and heavier than before and you step back.

You’ve made your payments for the month. You can’t think that it would be any loan sharks- you’re dumb, but you’re not dumb enough to make those types of decisions. Your stomach twists and you think it’s a client who found you- it wouldn’t be the first time, but you can’t afford to move. Maybe if you’re quiet, whoever is behind the door will leave. The knocks come again, heavier and pounding on the door, and you turn, grabbing at a picture frame, the metal ridges digging into the palm of your hand. You just have to stay quiet-

“Oi!” You flinch at the voice. “It’s me!” Your eyes squint, and you can recognize the voice. “Let me in, will ya? This who fucking place reeks of death and shit.” Oh, you can recognize the voice. “Hurry up!” The banging continues, and you place the picture frame down, and you go to open the door.

He may be wearing a different mask, but you recognize his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Took you long enough.” He brushes past you and he takes up the whole room. He cranes his neck, walking everywhere and laying down on your couch, resting his head on a decorative pillow. “Your place sucks, by the way. I had some bitch offer to blow me for crack.”

You close the door behind you, securing the locks. You catch the look of disgust on his mask as he analyzes your home.

“How did you know where I live?” You ask hesitantly, your hands playing with the bottom of your shorts.

“Your boss,” he says casually, picking up a decorative statue on the end table. “All I had to do was throw money at him, and he gave me the address and-” he digs into his pocket, and pulls out a few condoms. They’re fisted into his hand, and without a care, he tosses them towards you. They scatter on the ground. You stare at the contraceptives, and back at him, your face growing warm. He clears his throat. “I’m here now, so you’re welcome or whatever.”

“Why-” your voice catches- “Why are you here, Adam?” His mask is emotive, a brief look of wide eyes is quickly replaced by a neutral look. “We just- You usually wait for like a week before and after Extermination Day, so- so what is this?”

He looks at you for a second. And then two. And then five, and when you squirm and look away from him, he snorts. “You could use better couches. You got a sweet puss, can’t you afford something better? Fuck, I know I’m paying way too much for you still to be living in this shithole.”

You’re fine with the comments being made during your line of work, but hearing it out loud in your home, makes everything feel so perverse. Your chest burns, the flames all consuming and making it harder to breathe. “It’s cozy,” you defend.

“It’s a fucking studio.”

“Well lucky for you, I am moving out.” He turns to you, and places his feet on the worn coffee table. “I uh- I went to the Hazbin Hotel.” You wish he didn’t show up. You’ve never had a client here, not in your personal home. “The princess allowed me to stay, so I’ll probably move out maybe in a few weeks?” You talk to fill the silence. Usually he can be so expressive with the mask, but now, he can’t get a read on him.. Is it because it’s a new mask? Because he hasn’t figured out the wiring or however the mask works? “I mean, it’s not like it matters to you. You don’t- You shouldn’t even be here.” You shake your head. “But um,” you clear your throat, “yeah.” You think you’d rather suck him off at this point than continue to talk.

“She’s letting you move in?” He sounds taken aback.

You shrug. “It took some convincing.” Your nails scratch along your thighs, and you can breathe a bit easier. “It was like she didn’t want me to. But I guess I looked pathetic enough that she felt bad for me.” You give a weak laugh. “But uh- They have a friend of mine- Angel- so he kinda helped, but even he seemed,” you pause, “weird about it.”

He’s silent. You shuffle your weight between each leg, and you think you’ve said too much. You open your mouth, trying to remedy the situation, but you’re interrupted.

“I’m hungry,” he tells you, grabbing at your remote and flipping through the channels.

You narrow your eyes in confusion. “Okay?”

“Make me something to eat.”

Every part of you is screaming to tell him to leave. To go back to Heaven- that there must be a price to pay for him visiting Hell for- for you. The thought of him visiting for you makes your heart beat against your ribs, drumming loudly behind the ivory cages. He’s visiting for leisure. That’s it. Not for you, but for fun. To annoy you- to annoy a resident of Hell.

But he’s made himself comfortable. And you hate to admit it- even to yourself- but you like the company. Even if said company is rather brutish.

“I’m making food because I’m hungry, not because you told me,” you huff, turning on your heel to walk to the adjacent kitchen.

“Yeah, whatever,” he scoffs.

The plates sit empty, and the television is turned on. The program isn’t anything new, something you’ve seen countless times, same format, different people. It’s boring, and with the swell of your stomach from the savory meal you just had, you could fall asleep. You think you are falling asleep. Your eyes are heavy and your mind is filled with static and mothballs, far too thick for you to be aware as Adam lets his hand rest beside yours. The side of his finger touches yours, and you want to hold his hand.

“If you want to be redeemed, I could probably pull a few strings.” He doesn’t turn around, and you think you dreamt what he just told you. You look at him, and you don’t know if you heard him or not. He looks away from the television, and his hand stays beside yours.

“What?” You ask with sleep laced into your voice.

“I doubt Sera or Lute would be happy-” you recognize Lute, but you haven’t heard of Sera- “but whatever. They can go fuck themselves if they say anything.” He says the words quietly, held together as if they should have never been uttered, a prayer under the ceiling of your home, the yellow lights nothing like the sunlight from above.

“Are you-” your voice cracks, and you clear your throat- “Are you being for real?”

“Why the fuck would I say it in the first place?” His wings flutter, feathers bristling against the worn couch. He sounds offended that you think he would say this. But what else are you meant to think?

“That’s-” your voice is soft, and filled with doubt and hurt. He turns to you, and he’s waiting and watching. “I can’t do that.” You shake your head. “That’s not fair to Angel. He’s been trying real hard-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His voice has lost the gentleness that it held before, the soft whisper is gone and replaced with something sharp and cold, and he looks at you through his mask.

You realize he hasn't removed it in all the time he’s been here.

“Angel- He’s making progress and he’s doing good despite-”

“The porn demon sucks cocks all day-”

“You don’t get to call him that,” you say defensively. “He does what he does because he has to. When you sell your soul, you don’t get to say no.” You pull your hand away from where it was, and you move away from him. “And if he’s the porn demon then what the fuck am I?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he sneers. You flinch at the words. “You’re a sinner. Take the fucking offer.” His mask glitches, and you wonder if it’s made of a cheaper grade. However, you doubt Adam would wear anything less than excellence. “We come down to slaughter you for funsies, and you’re telling me that because you feel bad for the porn demon you aren’t going to take the opportunity to be a winner?”

“It’s just-”

“You’re a Sinner,” he hisses out your name like it’s something grotesque on his tongue, his eyes narrowed and his wings curling behind him. “You don’t have to tough it out in the dirt like this. You could be living it up, we could be fucking on literal clouds.”

You look away. You forget your place. You forget that he visits not to spend time with you, but to fuck you. You’ve been used for as long as you can remember, and it hasn’t stopped. A part of you hoped that Adam wasn’t entirely like that. That one some deep, hidden, part of him, that he liked you as a Sinner, that he liked you. That perhaps because he was an angel, he had some decency in him.

“Adam,” you speak softly, your eyes fixating on a plate.

“What?”

“You’re being mean.” You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “Meaner than usual.”

“I’m being honest.”

“You’re still being mean,” you tell him, shoulders raised and the food in your stomach churning.

He huffs. “I don’t know why you’d rather stay at this shithole. And then you’re going over to the princess’s hotel? Sinners are meant to stay down here. That bitch isn’t gonna save anyone.” His words are cold, and he hasn’t looked away from you. “You think you’re going to be redeemed?”

“Well-” you drag out, looking away from him. You aren’t sure. You want to believe that people can be redeemed, but a part of you knows that you’re only moving because it gets you free lodging. Rent isn’t cheap, and living in a hotel sounds fun.

“Let me give it to you straight,” he practically snarls. The venom in his voice is laid thick onto his words. “You aren’t.” His wings flap and the feathers prick themselves, the soft form they held, now rough and looking as if they were made for fighting rather than holding. “I’m giving you a chance to take the easy road and become an angel, but you’re too fucking dumb to even say yes.”

Your throat tightens, and your eyes burn with heavy tears. “I think you should leave.”

“Fuck you.” He grabs your wrist and you’re reminded that despite the physical appearance of him looking so man- he’s far more than that. “You think because I fuck you twice a year, that it makes you special?” His wings flare out, the golden feathers suddenly so cold. His voice is cold, and he presses his face closer to yours, teeth bared and a scowl ruining his pretty face.

Something awful twists at your stomach, nails piercing into your guts and innards, and leaving you filled with bile. “You quite literally asked me if I wanted to be redeemed,” you say quietly, spitting the words out. “Excuse me for thinking I’m so special.” The words are heavy and weak as they escape.

The eyes of the mask narrow, and his wings curl in, and you wonder just how powerful they are. “You’re a good fuck. That’s it. I get to rough you up, you beg for me.” His hand tightens around your wrist. “I’m offering it because it’s hard to find someone so fucking pathetic like you. Go to that hotel or don’t. Next extermination, I swear,” his words are filled with malice, “if I see you,” his nails dig into your skin, “I’ll be the one to-”

“The one to what?” You interject, your eyes glossy and voice wavering. “What? You’ll kill me? Fuck you, Adam. You- You come down here and act like you’re so much better than anyone else here-” you yank your hand back and clasp your other hand over the wrist- “well you aren’t.” Your chest rises and falls, your teeth bared in a desperate attempt to make yourself look dangerous. But with the tears in your eyes, and every fiber in your being begging you to run, to scream and hide away, you know you don’t even appear to be a threat.

You sit on the opposite end of the couch, holding your wrist, and trying not to cry. You can’t give him that satisfaction. But your legs bounce, and they won’t stop, no matter how much you try. You should have kicked him out before, you could have lied about having plans. You should have screamed for help- though you doubt your neighbors would actually do something about it.

“Why did you come here, Adam?” You ask, looking down at the ground. “We had something good going on.” You tuck your legs under yourself, biting at the inside of your cheeks, grimacing when you bite too harshly. “Even if I wanted to be a Winner, I wouldn’t- I’d be lost up there.”

He’s quiet for far too long and the rejection makes you close in on yourself.

“I wouldn’t kill you.” Your eyes glance over to him for a moment, but he’s turned his head the other way. “I didn’t mean it.” His hand goes to curve over where his usual horns are, but they flutter in the air, falling until they grasp onto the curved steel bone of his new mask. “You wouldn’t be lost,” he tells you, his face turned towards the wall in front of him. His voice is tight, almost as if he’s embarrassed to be telling you what he’s saying now. His wings flutter, gold shimmering in a wave. He clears his throat, and looks away. “A bunch of the angels are on the welcoming committee.”

“There’s a welcoming committee?”

“It’s fucking lame. We have some guy sing a song about how everyone in Heaven is hot, and he just flies around.” He sounds annoyed, the eyes of his mask forming a thin line of glowing dots, and you snort. “I’m telling you it’s fucking torture to listen to the damn song every time we get a new soul.” He waves his hand in the air, agitation light in his voice.

“When I arrived in Hell, it sucked.” He looks at you. You don’t like to talk about your arrival to Hell. Not to your friends, not to anyone. You hardly like to think about it yourself. “I uh-” you smile bitterly- “I was so upset. I was in hell. It was hot. The noises were loud. And I-” you stop, the feeling of loneliness making your body feel detached- “I was hungry.” You hadn’t realized just how loneliness was so consuming.

“What do you remember?” He probes.

You pause. You remember being terrified and alone; wanting someone to take you in their arms and tell you that you were safe; you remember wanting it all to be a dream. “I remember the pain of landing here.” You watch as his wings unfurl, one spilling over the armrest of your couch, the other careful to not smack you. It brushes against you, and you look at them memorized, the patterns of the feather delicacy etched upon him. “I think I’d take a song any day.” You remember taking jobs that you had never thought you’d ever take.

“Come ‘ere,” he tells you. You crawl towards him, and he touches you, his hands steady and holding you firmly as they situate you above him, letting you sit on his lap. The glowing eyes make your own look away, the gaze of him far too much, too empty and unclear for you to feel comfortable. You know your place. A pet for him when he wants it. Going to heaven would only further cement your place at the ground that he stands on. His hands grab yours and they guide you to the end of his mask. “Take it off.”

It’s a heavy mask. You wish you could examine it, even if you aren’t sure what any of it would mean, but you want to study it, to let your finger trace over the features. Your attention is pulled back to him, and you thin your lips.

He’s always been difficult to look at. His eyes are gold, shimmering and shining under your lights, how hair tousled and set from being confined in the mask, and you can’t stand to look at him. You close your eyes, and your hands ghost over his cheeks, tensing and choosing to rest over his clothed shoulders. Your lips meld, and your hands tighten over his shoulders. It’s soft, his stubble tickling your chin. You murmur his name, repeated when he kisses your neck, his name muttered like a prayer, your hands clawing and grasping at him. You shut your eyes, your body curling into his touch, lips desperate to find his again. You need him. You crave him. You wish he’d stop grabbing at your skin, but every touch is feverish, flaming your body more than it already has.

You kiss him with want. You kiss him like you’re alone all over again, wanting to commit him to memory.

Your eyes grow heavier, sleep wrapping itself around you like a warm blanket, or perhaps it’s his wing, curled around you, spilling over your body and your sofa. Each blink grows longer, and you nestle to the side of him, clinging to his warmth. “When are you moving to the hotel?” His voice is soft, the tips of his hands scratching up and down your arm. You mumble your answer, letting your eyes come to a close. “The hotel fucking sucks. The whole idea of it does. It's like she wants you to die.” Your brows furrow with each passing word. The words are lost on you, your mind too foggy with sleep to pick apart the words and piece the clues together. “Lilith’s brat is only setting you up for failure.”

“‘M used to it,” you mumble. “‘S no big deal, Ads.” You wish he’d stop talking. You’re tired, can’t he hear it in your voice?

“It’s fucking dumb,” he spits.

“Adam,” you whine, your legs tensing and squeezing around his own, “‘M tired.” You feel the gust of his wings, a ghost of a touch making your skin prick in chills.

“Stop talking.” His feathers are soft, and you always forget just how they feel despite touching them quite a few times. They curl around you, a heavy blanket or warmth, the soft hints of cologne and musk envelop you, and he’s soft under you, tender and gentle, his hands tracking into your skin, invisible tattoos kissed onto you. “I can do whatever I want in Heaven.”

“Mhm, sounds great,” you whisper, your body heavy above his, limp with sleep and full with sin and unknowing.

You're pulled closer to him, and you welcome his warmth and his comfort. “Even if you don't want to be redeemed, you can stay up there. I'll have you taken care of. No one would say shit.”

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel imagine #i think he'd be like weirdly possessive of a partner #but not really weirdly because like both of his past partners or wives like left him #so he's like wanting to keep reader on like a leash #he got attached #and thats his like curse #to want and never really have it returned #i wanna write one where Adam's angel s/o falls and like lucifer has fallen #so he's there #and Adam can't visit without like suspicions arising #so he watches as lucifer and his partner #he doesn't think they're broken up and s/o is too distraught to even think about anything other than pain #get closer and hes like no!!#not another one!!#and lucifer is still depressed #but he likes knowing that he's not alone #and sure the other sins are there #but like its different for reasons #but idk #I think I would the story with like either a v poly #adam #or luci

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tomlivingspace · 5 days ago

Note

banging on the table RANT ABOUT TIGERHEART!!!

the thing about tigerheart is like. he meets dovewing as dovepaw when the group from all the clans goes on the beaver expedition. his FIRST interaction with her is after they run into dogs and he says "don't worry dovepaw, i'll protect you". and from that point forward he proceeds to seek her out.

jayfeather finds tigerheart lurking on the wrong side of thunderclan border. the next day, dovepaw recognizes tigerheart's scent during a patrol. she confront him out of earshot of the rest of their patrols, and he asks her not to tell anyone it was him, and that he'll explain it to her during the gathering.

during the gathering, tigerheart makes a point to get dovepaw alone. he then basically goes "we're friends right? if i trust you, will you trust me? :)" and proceeds to not tell her what he was doing. dovepaw extends physical contact because she can tell something's bothering him, and then he proceeds to get VERY VERY close to her.

"He seemed desperate for her to understand. She curled her tail to touch the tip of his. He stiffened at her touch, but didn’t draw his tail away; instead, he leaned forward and rested his nose against her ear fur...The warmth of his breath on her ear made her shiver. It smelled sweet, for a ShadowClan cat's breath." (Fading Echos, 69)

Dovepaw pulls away after realizing how close together they are. the MOMENT another cat comes even somewhat close to where they are, tigerheart RUNS away despite them being at a gathering.

they bump into each other while dovepaw is on patrol again, and dovepaw accidentally wanders into shadowclan territory. she apologizes, and tigerheart says, "'It's okay. I trust you. We're friends, right?'" (Fading Echos, 123). he then once again gets very physically close to her, pressing his muzzle against hers. they talk casually for a little, but he keeps going back and forth from casual to intimate which makes dovepaw uncomfortable.

“I tried to visit Sedgewhisker, you know...But everyone got so angry with me!...But I was worried about her. We’re all Clan cats, aren't we? Is it wrong to care about one another?” Tigerheart gazed into her eyes. “No, it isn’t.” Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Dovepaw looked away. “Do you remember when the dam burst?” Tigerheart’s mew was brisk, as though he could sense her discomfort and wanted to distract her. “The river nearly washed us to StarClan.” He stood up and began to knead the ground. “And we had to cling to nothing but branches to keep our heads above water.” He leaped for a low twig jutting from a pine trunk and swung by his forepaws. Dovepaw purred with amusement. “What about trying to drag the logs out of the dam? That was like trying to pull the forest up by its roots!” “I thought you were so brave!” Tigerheart told her. “You were braver,” she argued. “No way! I was terrified!” “I couldn't tell.” Dovepaw found herself staring into his soft amber eyes. Words dried on her tongue. (Fading Echos, 123-124)

god sorry really quick aside im skimming to find the correct context and i fucking hate flametail's pov. anyway. they bump into each other AGAIN and tigerheart talks about how much he hates borders. he then asks to see dovepaw that night. when they meet, tigerheart takes her outside of clan territory. they play around, and all of a sudden, once again, he starts to get really intimate with her and asks to be her mate.

“Without you, I’d be dead now. You’re my hero. How can I possibly thank you?” Dovepaw lifted her chin, playing along. “You must bring me mice,” she mewed haughtily. “And a fresh squirrel every day for a moon. And new moss for my nest. And . . .” She flicked his chin with her tail-tip. “You must follow me around all day and pick the burrs out of my pelt.” The playfulness drained from Tigerheart’s warm amber gaze. Dovepaw tensed, wondering if she’d teased him too much. “I’d gladly do all that for you.” His mew was as steady as his gaze. “You didn’t have to save my life first.” Dovepaw stared back. “I didn’t really save your life,” she whispered. “It was just a tiny crack. That log could still hold your weight.” “Maybe,” Tigerheart agreed. “But you were worried about me. That means you care, right?” Dovepaw saw doubt flicker in the young ShadowClan warrior’s gaze. “I mean, you care more than if we were just friends?” he pressed. Dovepaw swallowed. For the first time she actually felt like she had the power of the stars in her paws. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I care.” Her heart twisted in her chest, half in pain, half in joy. “I shouldn’t, but I do.” A purr rose deep in her chest as Tigerheart leaned forward and touched his muzzle to hers. Their breath billowed into a single cloud. He twisted his tail around hers, and warmth spread beneath her pelt. Tigerheart sighed. “We’d better get back, before we’re missed.” He pulled away, but only far enough to let her get to her paws. Together they padded to the nest entrance, fur brushing fur. They paused on the smooth rock, and Dovepaw stared out at the forest stretching down toward the distant lake. “This is going to work, right?” “Yes,” Tigerheart promised. “No boundaries are ever going to be strong enough to separate us.” Dovepaw blinked at him. “Really?” She wanted to believe it. She had to believe it. Nothing had ever felt so important. “Let’s meet again before half-moon,” Tigerheart suggested. “Tomorrow.” Dovepaw felt bold. “Do you think we could leave camp two nights in a row?” Tigerheart’s eyes widened. “You’d take that risk?” “It’s worth it.” She brushed his cheek with her nose. His scent felt warm on her tongue. He was hers now. He didn’t belong to ShadowClan. They belonged to each other. (Night Whispers, 57)

after this point tigerheart makes a big deal about how dovepaw's denmates would notice her absence, to which she replies that only ivypaw is in the apprentice den with her right now. anyway. they part. eventually ivpaw finds out about their meetings. she confronts dovepaw about it, reveals to her that tigerheart is training in the dark forest. dovepaw accuses ivypaw of being jealous of tigerheart's romantic interest in her.

"That’s not true! You’re just jealous!” Dovepaw shrieked at her sister. She couldn’t believe these lies. “You’re jealous that I’m a better warrior than you. I always have been and I always will be, and you can’t stand it. And now you’re jealous that Tigerheart loves me and not you! You want to destroy everything I’ve got because you’re jealous. That’s all!” Ivypaw’s eyes gleamed. “Really? Why not ask Tigerheart?” “Shut up!” Dovepaw scrambled up the bank. “If you tell anyone that I’m seeing Tigerheart, then I’ll tell the whole Clan you’ve been training in the Dark Forest with Tigerstar, and then you’ll have no friends. Everyone will hate you as much as I do!” She pelted through the trees. “You forgot your catch,” Ivypaw called after her. “You take it!” Dovepaw yowled back. “Then your Clanmates might think you’ve done something right for a change!” (Night Whispers, 82)

they meet regularly, though it doesnt say how often, in the middle of the night. the intimacy in their meetings increases, they rub faces against each other, get in real close. dovepaw off-handedly mentions jayfeather's herb patch, and she's suspicious of tigerheart's interest, but she offers to steal some for him. he tells her no, and she insists, and he tells her thank you. of course, he does this after making it very clear that littlecloud could die if he doesn't get treated, only to then back down so she can believe it was HER decision.

ivypaw happens upon the two of them during this and tries to get tigerheart to reveal his participation in the dark forest. a shadowclan patrol approaches, tigerheart shoves dovepaw into brambles, and the patrol finds tigerheart and ivypaw on the border, and they take ivypaw prisoner. tigerheart then immediately reveals the information about jayfeather's herb garden despite dovepaw offering to get some for him. after this tigerheart becomes cold, cutting dovepaw off completely. when she confronts him, he said he's been meaning to talk to her but hasn't been able to. dovepaw breaks up with tigerheart. this is the end of their relationship while dovepaw is an apprentice.

so first and foremost: even if tigerheart is a "young" warrior, HIS BROTHER IS A FULLY TRAINED MEDICINE CAT. he has to be at least a year and a half old, compared to dovewing's 7 months MAYBE when they met. and from that point, he has been going out of his way to initiate contact with her, repeatedly confirms that they are "friends" and that she trusts him, tests her by giving her little secrets to keep for him to make sure she won't tell anyone about him. the fact he goes on to take her to a second location and then ask if they can be "more than friends" WHILE SHES STILL AN APPRENTICE?????? is absolutely fucking insane. he's clearly manipulating her, fishing for information about goings on in thunderclan and the like, trying to get what he wants and mold her into someone that would be okay breaking the rules FOR HIM. whenever someone gets close to finding out about them, he runs, he tries to leave their meetings as quickly as possible. and then, when ivypaw discovers their relationship for sure, he turns cold and pretends like nothing was between them at all. he uses the information she gives him both with the dark forest and with shadowclan. and, the most poignant part, is the fact dovepaw is becoming too tired to focus during training while seeing him. her clanmates notice shes tired and comment on it, ivypaw notices. shes a teenager being groomed by an adult who is using her. when he gets what he wants out of her and when he gets it, he leaves. dovepaw believes she ends the relationship, but its evident that its over before that.

people hate thistleclaw. people hate dustfern. people hate hawkivy. people have noted the fact brambleclaw is so much older than squirrelpaw and how that skews the power dynamic, but even THEY don't start dating until theyre both adults. so the fact that tigerdove is still seen as a cutsey pure what the fuck ever ship is kind of disgusting to me. if you want to rewrite it, WHATEVER. i just think its interesting that every other age gap ship is rightfully criticized, but tigerdove very seldom is.

#dovewing #im not tagging any other characters here though but this is long enough that i AM tagging it #anyway most warriors relationships are fucked up without meaning to be. i get that. i get that tigerdove is just one of them.#the problem is...... tigerdove is very scarily similar to the experience of a teenager getting groomed....... and no one talks about it....

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icarusignite · 6 months ago

Text

An Eye for an Eye Ch.4

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC

"Home is the first grave, and you will always be buried here, in my heart."

Summary: In his chambers, Aemond Targaryen gazes upon his wife, the once vibrant spirit now hollowed by his hand. Her anguish tears at his conscience as he realizes the depth of her despair. She would perish in this place, her soul suffocating beneath the weight of his actions, yet he selfishly believes that even a fragment of her presence is better than nothing at all. The torment of this realization coils around him and he is forced to come to terms with the price of his need to possess what he has already shattered.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aemond Targaryen sat alone in his makeshift chambers, the weight of regret heavy on his shoulders. The room felt emptier without the presence of his lady wife, and the silence echoed the absence of her laughter and warmth that he realized he had begun to take for granted. It had been four days since he had seen her last.

His thoughts churned with self-reproach, and the memory of their last argument played out in his mind like a haunting refrain. He recognized the cruelty in his words, the callousness with which he had wounded the woman who had chosen to be his companion. She, who had always stood by him, was now misguided by his suggestion that she was a mere consolation prize, someone he settled for because he could not fathom anyone else having him, wanting him.

He had not seen her since. She refused to let anyone into her chambers, not even Helaena, and she did not take a single meal, each tray outside the door remaining untouched until one of the servants came to replace it with yet another. In fact, the only indicators that she was still alive, were the occasional sounds of things being thrown about, and the scuffle of her feet as she paced endlessly.

It did not help that the walls were paper thin and Aemond's temporary residence had been set up in the room adjacent to hers. All day, he heard both her screams and her pleas to some unknown deity, and if she got no rest, neither did he.

Even now in the dead of night, as he tried to occupy himself with the latest book he had picked up from the castle library, he could hear the unsettling cadence of hollow thuds echoing through the walls. At first, he dismissed them as the sounds of a heart heavy with sorrow and frustration, perhaps a physical manifestation of emotional turmoil.

However, as the rhythm of the banging persisted and grew more pronounced, he found it increasingly difficult to disregard the disconcerting noise. The hollow echoes seemed to reverberate through the corridors like a mournful lament, and his attempts to focus on his reading became futile as the sounds clawed at his conscience.

Then, a sudden escalation in intensity seized his attention, culminating in a terrible crash that shattered the uneasy stillness of the Red Keep. Without a second thought, he leaped from his seat, the urgency of the moment propelling him toward the source of the noise.

As he approached Daenys's door, he found one of her guarding knights struggling with the handle in vain. The guard's brow was furrowed in frustration as he hammered against the door.

"What is going on here, it is late, people are trying to rest!" Aemond snapped, impatiently.

"My prince!" the guard greeted his arrival with a nod. "Something has happened to the princess, I fear, but I can't get the door open. Something's blocking it from the inside."

Aemond, anxiety gnawing at him, took a step forward and grasped the handle, determined to overcome whatever obstacle stood between him and his wife. He exerted his strength, pushing against the door with a force born of desperation. To his surprise and frustration, the door remained resolute, as if an invisible barrier defied his attempts to breach it.

He gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts. He could feel the strain in his muscles as he pushed against the door, and when the guard joined him, the door yielded under their combined strength, revealing a narrow crack that allowed glimpses into the dimly lit chamber beyond.

It was his own writing desk that served as a barricade, the heavy wooden furniture having been pushed against the door, forming an impromptu fortress.

As Aemond surveyed the scene from his vantage point, he could see the aftermath of Daenys's storm etched across his quarters. He called out her name, the desperate plea hanging in the air, but there was no response, only the haunting silence that seemed to linger like a heavy fog.

With a surge of determination, he threw himself against the door, the impact jarring his frame as he sought to create an opening. The sound of strained wood and the metallic rattle of displaced objects resounded through the corridor, and after several forceful attempts, he managed to create a gap just large enough for him to slip through.

Once inside, he surveyed the chaos that unfolded before him. Shards of broken glass crunched beneath his boots, the remnants of vases and ornaments that had met a violent end. The air was thick with the acrid scent of overturned inkwells and the remnants of scattered parchment.

The furniture bore the marks of a struggle, with overturned chairs and dishevelled bedding adding to the disarray. Aemond's eye fell upon the writing desk that had served as the barricade, now displaced and toppled. Its contents were scattered, a chaotic collage of spilled ink and crumpled pages.

The concern that gripped Aemond intensified as his gaze fell upon his window.

His broken window.

The tattered remnants of curtains hung limply from their posts, and shards of glass still clung precariously to the edges like teeth.

Like glinting cannibalistic teeth.

That was when he noticed the pale, bloody fingers desperately clinging to the ledge. A cold chill raced down his spine, and every fibre of his being urged him to rush forward.

There she was, his Daenys, a fragile silhouette against the darkness of the chamber. One hand, stained with blood and gripping the window, despite the broken glass that dug into her skin, leaving crimson traces along the ledge.

In her other hand, she clutched a makeshift rope fashioned from sheets and torn curtains. The fabric, now stained and dishevelled, dangled precariously from the window. It was a desperate lifeline, a testament to the lengths she had gone to escape. The rope was nowhere long enough to reach the bottom, and the sight of her, teetering on the edge between safety and the abyss, struck Aemond like a blow.

"Seven hells!" his voice cracked with disbelief. "What are you doing?"

She did not respond to him. In fact, it was as though she hadn't even registered his presence yet. Aemond's hands trembled as he carefully reached down, fingers outstretched, to grasp Daenys's wrists, but the moment his touch made contact, her head snapped up, and he found himself staring into bloodshot, glazed-over eyes. Her skin felt unnaturally hot, radiating feverish heat, as if her body was consumed by it.

Below her, one of his chairs lay smashed to smithereens on the stone floor below, the wood splaying out ominously as if daring the precariously dangling girl to meet a similar fate.

When he tried to pull her up, a sudden resistance met his efforts. Daenys kicked and twisted, her movements desperate with the need to escape. He expected her to scream, but not a sound escaped her chapped lips, and his grip tightened instinctively, fueled by the instinct to prevent her from slipping away. His fingers pressed into her wrists with a bruising force and in a moment of panic, she let go of the sheets she had been clinging to. The sudden release threatened to send her spiralling downward, and Aemond, reacting on pure instinct, made a split-second decision.

Without hesitation, he abandoned caution. Ignoring the glass remnants that still clung to the window ledge, he forcefully dragged her over. The leather sleeves of his riding habit protected him from the worst of it, but he winced at the sharp edges of broken glass that no doubt bit into his wife's skin, as they tumbled back together.

Still, a few cuts were better than having her skull crack open in the courtyard.

The night was far from over, however, and before the one-eyed prince had a chance to catch his breath, his wife was surging back toward the open window. Aemond, his senses heightened by adrenaline, reacted swiftly, his hands reaching out to hook around her waist before she could slip away.

In a desperate attempt to keep her away from the perilous ledge, his arm wrapped firmly around Daenys's waist, pulling her away, and positioning himself between her and the window. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her, trying to pierce through the haze of her delirium. His voice, a desperate plea tinged with anger, cut through the air as he screamed at her, demanding an explanation.

"What in seven hells is wrong with you? Were you trying to fucking die? You could have died!"

Her response was a fragmented murmur, the words barely audible as she mumbled incoherently.

"I want to go home," she whispered. "I just want to go home, please."

Still reeling from almost losing her to her own insanity, Aemond dropped his head, forehead coming to rest against Daenys's shoulder. He did it half in relief, half in guilt to avoid meeting her pleading eyes, because he did not have an answer that would satisfy her. To his surprise, she let him, holding very still as he breathed her in.

Casually, his gaze swept over her, halting in alarm when his attention was drawn to her sleeves that had ridden up in the chaos of their struggle. The pale moonlight streaming in from outside was just enough to reveal a glimpse of red, and an instinctive urgency gripped him, as he yanked her sleeves up, making her wince.

The revelation made him want to retch as he beheld the grisly sight, both her arms marred by a twisted landscape of open wounds, and if he raised them closer to examine, he swore he could make out the occasional sliver of glass embedded in the carmine carnage. They seemed too deliberate, too methodical, too angry to be accidental, the gaping and twisted maws of gore that littered her flesh.

The revelation was a visceral punch to Aemond's gut, and a sense of helplessness overwhelmed him.

She would die here. If they kept her here any longer, she would die here. The Red Keep, where she was born, the place she had once filled with the effervescence of her life, would become her grave, and he her executioner.

He gently cupped her face, searching her dull and unrecognizing eyes for some semblance of clarity, but he found none.

"Daenys, where did you go?" Aemond pleaded, his voice a raw whisper, echoing through the room. He longed for a flicker of recognition, a spark that would return her to him, even if it meant her disdain, but her eyes remained distant.

"Can I go home now?"

Before he could respond, the guard from earlier returned with a maester in tow, just as Aemond had instructed, both men looking taken aback at the sight that greeted them.

Aemond, annoyance etched across his features at the interruption, eyed the maester with a curt nod.

"Leave your things and go. I'll take care of her myself," he commanded.

The maester, having tended to the one-eyed prince since he was a boy, was well accustomed to his sullen moods. He nodded silently, placing the medical supplies he had brought with him on a nearby table before discreetly retreating from the room. His eyes, however, betrayed a sense of concern for the troubled couple he left behind, but it was not his place to pry.

The Lord Hand would, however, receive a full report from him on the morrow.

The knight, on the other hand, lingered at the threshold, casting a wary glance at them, as if hesitant to leave.

Aemond, his patience waning, barked his orders again, "Stand guard outside. She needs no further audience for her troubles."

"The princess has been delirious for a few days, I think. She repeatedly calls out for her brother, as if he is still here," the knight's eyes were downcasted as he added, "I know it isn't my place but perhaps it would do her well to go home for a little while."

"Yes, you are right. It isn't your place to concern yourself. I told you to return to your post, and I do not like repeating myself."

He watched the door close but was dismayed to find that Daenys still resisted his attempts to lead her toward the unmade bed. Her gaze remained fixated on the window, as she pointed outside like a forlorn child.

There was something tender and vulnerable in her eyes, and Aemond felt awfully protective over it. In another world, in another time, he would have offered himself up as her shield to whatever may be thrown toward her. He thought he could spend his whole life preserving her. He would have died a martyr at the feet of her holiness if she let him

But that was before he killed her. Before he ruined anything good or holy between them.

With a gentle determination, he scooped her into his arms. She offered little resistance, her body feeling weightless and fragile in his embrace. Carefully placing her on the bed, Aemond knelt before her. Daenys remained limp and unresponsive, like a marionette whose strings had been severed.

Aemond, wincing in her place every time the rag in his hand came away stained with old blood, began the delicate task of cleaning her ghastly wounds. His hands moved cautiously, each touch an attempt to alleviate her pain, but he could have pushed her arm through one of the cook's meat grinders and she would not have uttered a single word of protest, wounded bird that she was.

She seemed nothing like the dragon his grandsire had warned him about.

Less a wounded dragon, and more a dead sparrow.

Her fever was still running high and her skin burned.

A furnace or a funeral pyre.

Aemond marvelled at how she managed to keep her eyes open, the flickering flame within them a mere echo of consciousness. She was barely present, a spectre caught between the realms of consciousness and the dark respite of slumber. There were an endless number of bruises to wrap up, and a lifetime of cleaning scrapes and bruises from his own sparring sessions had done nothing to prepare him for such a task. Perhaps he should have let the maester stay after all.

His memory did him no favours tonight, reminding him of all the times she too had patched him up, her treatments always followed by stern reprimands for his safety. Such instances almost always concluded in fits of laughter, because he never could focus on her words, not when he had been too busy thinking about her lips pursed in concern and all he wanted to do was kiss away her frown.

The present felt too dark a reality in comparison.

Finally, when he was finished wrapping her arms with fresh linen, he felt her delicate fingers grab his hand, and he stilled, not wanting to startle her. His gaze locked with hers, and he found her eyes unfocused.

"Aemond," she whispered softly, the sound barely audible. The gentleness in her voice sent a shiver down his spine. Perhaps she did recognize him, but there was an uncertainty, a distance in her eyes that hinted at the possibility that she had forgotten, if only for a moment, the weight of their shared history.

She knew him, but not what he had done.

"Aemond, I want to go home. Please let me go home. I want to be with my mother."

Her voice was a hoarse rasp, akin to the scrape of metal against stone.

"Shh, don't speak," Aemond urged gently, avoiding her request completely.

Leaning up, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and her grip tugged at his arm, urging him to sit next to her. He complied almost instantaneously, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and pulling her close as he guided her head to rest against his chest.

As Daenys nestled against him, his fingers gently traced soothing patterns on her back. The silence, punctuated only by the distant echoes of the night, enveloped them like a shroud, and it was easy to pretend that he could be her anchor here. It was easier than admitting he was also the storm.

She would not be allowed to leave; his brother, his grandsire, even his own mother would never allow it, and even if he were to let her go in some burst of compassion, Aemond knew she'd never come back. A selfish part of him wanted to keep her with him forever, even if it meant only getting to hold this empty shell of her for the rest of his life. She was his; she belonged to him.

His dragon. His sparrow.

From this day, until the end of my days.

He had made vows, under the eyes of the Seven, and the whole kingdom besides.

He was almost certain that he'd never be able to let her go, even when keeping her meant killing her. It was clearly killing her now. She didn't eat, she barely slept, and she had practically bored holes into herself in her grief. Who knew how much longer she would last like this, but letting her go was not an option. Aemond knew he had started a war with the death of his nephew, but he wondered how much wrath he'd incur from his half-sister if he cost Rhaenyra her firstborn as well.

He could only hope that she would acquiesce to their terms eventually, if only for the sake of her daughter. If she was no longer a threat, then Daenys would be able to return to her mother, and then perhaps her empty eyes would not haunt him.

Still, he'd take care of her. He would move back into his chambers, and wouldn't let her out of his sight. He would not let her hurt herself anymore; she could not die. He would not allow it. She belonged to him and no one would be able to take her from him, not even the Stranger.

Daenys stirred in his arms then, a timid whimper escaping her lips as he shushed her again. It only made her start crying, burying her face in his chest. Aemond tightened his hold on her, bordering on suffocating as he stroked her hair. It reminded him of better times, when she would seek comfort in him, when he was not the source of her pain. He didn't know how long he sat there, cradling her in his lap, wanting to savour each moment because he knew once her fever cleared, she would go back to hating him.

"Aemond."

"Yes, my love?"

"I really need to go home."

"Daenys..." he warned lightly. "This is your home...with me."

"No," she insisted, "it is important. It will be Luke's name day soon. I must return to Dragonstone. What with all their betrothals as well, there will be so much to do...and Baela...she made me promise that I'd be there...she said she had...oh, I can't quite remember anymore."

After a brief pause, her soft and muddled voice broke the silence again. Aemond waited, his heart heavy with the anticipation of what her words might unveil, what she might remember. He waited for the crying to start anew, but instead, she only frowned in contemplation, as if grappling with elusive thoughts just beyond her reach.

"I don't know what present to get him," she mumbled. "I'm supposed to make him something but we all know how absolutely terrible I am at that. Joffrey's easy to please, all I have to do is give him a ride on Silverwing, but Luke's presents require more effort. Always so picky, that one. Mother coddles him too much...well, I do too, it's hard not to, you know. That was a face formed to topple kingdoms, Father used to say. No one can refuse those eyes, and that rascal uses it to his advantage every time."

Daenys giggled at the end, the melody of her brother's laughter ringing in her ears as if he'd walk through the door that very moment.

"...if you say so..."

If she noticed the way Aemond's face paled as he croaked out his words, she did not say.

"And then I need to help Mother prepare for all the weddings. Rhaena wants a spring wedding, and Mother couldn't be happier. You know how they both love the flowers. As for Jacaerys, well, I think he'd put up with being married in a barn if it meant getting to be with Baela. They're sweet that way, don't you think?"

The seemingly mundane topics hung in the air, almost comedic in their joviality. Aemond, his heart aching, nodded and hummed along, playing along with the fragments of her perceived reality.

His fingertips continued to smooth her hair away, and as she babbled on about her family, Aemond felt the fragility of her state weighing on him. Whether it was the illness talking or a self-imposed delusion, he couldn't discern, but she was not right in the head.

"So...what do you think?"

Aemond paused, not entirely sure what she was asking of him.

"That sounds wonderful," he replied gently, his voice a comforting murmur. "A thoughtful gift and helping your mother with the weddings are both splendid ideas."

His worry only deepened as she continued to mumble, her words meandering through the labyrinth of her consciousness. It was as if she had constructed a façade to shield herself from the harsh realities that threatened to consume her. His fingertips traced her features, as if trying to memorize the planes of her face while he had the chance.

Eventually, she stopped, and simply looked at him, a sense of wonder flickering in her eyes, a spark that transcended the haze of confusion that had enveloped her earlier.

"What is is, jorrāeliarzy?"

"You're going to leave aren't you?"

"Leave? Why would I leave you Daenys? And where would I go?"

Daenys sighed, as if burdened by a great truth.

"You...care for your brother, your family, and I love my mother. I have heard what the people whisper about."

"And what does that have to do with me leaving?"

"Well one day you'd have to leave, won't you? It makes me sad. Sometimes I think I start to miss you before you are even gone."

Aemond stilled, threading his fingers through her hair, nails scraping against her skull as he brought her face a hairsbreadth from his.

"I won't leave. I swear it by the old gods and the new. I will never be the one to leave you," he declared fiercely.

And I won't let you leave me either.

She smiled slowly, although it didn't reach her eyes. Her gaze held a disturbing resemblance to Aegon's inebriated one, particularly when he had one too many drinks.

"And be nicer to my brothers. They are only children. They will come to adore you like I do, if you only try a little," she spoke as if she was in a dream.

Aemond couldn't tell, maybe she really was.

"If you ask it of me, then I will try," he mumbled, looking away from her guiltily but feeding into her delusion all the same.

When Daenys brought her hands up to cup his face, his breath caught in his throat. Her fingers gingerly traced the edge of his eyepatch, and then, with slow deliberation, she began to lift it away.

She was remarkably gentle, always mindful of the old injury, but Aemond couldn't help but inhale sharply through his teeth, his head jerking back involuntarily. The echoes of her previous words, the memory of her calling him hideous, lingered in the recesses of his mind. He waited for the sting of those words to be hurled at him once more, bracing himself for the impact of her judgment. He almost dared her to do it, to break the fragile calm that had settled over them.

A flicker of hurt flashed across her features as she sensed his avoidance. Undeterred, she took his face in her hands, gently turning him to face her once again. For a while, she simply observed, her eyes boring into the midnight depths of his eye that shone with every star of the night sky in the darkness of their chambers.

Then, her gaze dropped to the sapphire pendant that still adorned the hollow of her throat despite everything that had occurred.

She hadn't taken it off. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

Her lips pulled a little higher, the brightness of her a contrast to the shadows that clung to the corners of the room.

"We match," she said, her voice soft and filled with fascination. Aemond, caught off guard by the unexpected sentiment, felt a lump forming in his throat. It took everything within him not to cry.

Of course, they matched. They were always meant to.

He had given it to her on her fifteenth name day. It was a promise of sorts, even if she had not known it at the time. A promise that she would belong to him one day, that she would always be his.

He swallowed hard, his gaze locking with hers, "Yes, we do."

"It was on purpose you know..."

"What?" he frowned in confusion.

"Me...I...on purpose...I loved you on purpose. It wasn't pity...or-or guilt...or whatever else you think it was. It was a choice. It was my choice. I chose you."

Loved. She used the past tense.

This time Aemond was unable to prevent the tears from filling his uninjured eye, and when she leaned up to place a feathered kiss on the scarred skin under his sapphire, they trickled down his cheek, his face strange in its asymmetry when only one of his eyes could could truly mourn.

She kissed away another tear, and his entire world collapsed in on itself, the only feeling that of her lips on his skin. He wished this was real. With everything in his entire being, he wished this was real. He wished he had never gone to negotiate with Lord Borros Baratheon. He wished he hadn't let his rage or resentment consume him. He wished he hadn't ruined them.

Whether he would lose Daenys to the war he had inevitably begun or to herself and the madness he saw in her eyes, he would lose her all the same. He felt her slipping away from him, like granules of sand on a windy day, so he hugged her closer, unable to stop the sob that he buried in her hair, mourning her loss even as he held her still breathing form in his arms. Even as she stroked his head and murmured more comforting nonsense in his ear while he shuddered in her embrace.

It wasn't real. None of it was real.

Her temporary affections felt like a tease from the gods.

Someone somewhere was laughing at him, sniggering at his naivete. She was a gift he only deserved as a prelude to punishment. A bluff between goodbye and forever, and Aemond Targaryen had given himself up to the gamble years ago, to the breathlessness that was a hammer on his chest.

A/N: likes/reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, would love to hear your thoughts <3 Comment to be added to the taglist

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #icarusignite writes #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #aemond x reader #jacaerys velaryon #icarus ignite fic recs #aemond x oc #helaena targaryen #hotd #game of thrones #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #fandiction

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mayfast · 8 months ago

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Avatar Headcanons (FIGHT ME)

1.) Because of their tails, Na'vi are really bad at shooting upside down. Like you know human trick shots where we can just comfortably dangle upside down to make a shot, yet, their tails' sense of balance it throwing them all off. Think of a cat's tail, it corrects them while they are upside down.

2.) Na'vi have different waves of light that they can see in. Like you know how bugs see in different waves, or dogs hear in different frequencies?

3.) Their enhanced senses are something the RDA uses dramatically for war. Like think about the Flash Bang potential here? A weapon that only throws off Na'vi. That means avatars have slight protection from them because of their human DNA, or when Jake gets word that these are gonna be used, he has Spider come along as their human coverage.

4.) There are poisonous foods to Na'vi that humans can eat. Like something that would stop their hearts, Spider can just casually snack on. That's like watching someone eat deadly nightshade for breakfast.

5.) Na'vi aren't meant for long periods of starvation. Not like humans are. Have you seen how lean they are?? There isn't a fat deposit on these guys, and they are BIG. They need food to keep going. So they can go without eating for a week, max.

6.) There are human pheromones that they can't smell and there are Na'vi pheromones that human's can't pick up. I mean, smells are chemical structures allow us to recognize something and pick up the smell. So if the chemical make up of environments for humans and Na'vi are different than it makes sense that there are smells that they/we can't even pick up. OR EVEN BETTER, the smells are all off. Like if we give them an earth flower for them to smell, and to them it comes off as the smell of rotten eggs. IMAGINE.

7.) Na'vi don't thermoregulate like we do. Thus why there isn't a big need for clothes. Granted, it's be weird, cause that's where most of our calories go towards, straight up thermoregulation.

8.) Human's are better at reading body language between the two species. Human's don't have a tail or ears to give away feelings, and we're taught from a young age to control our RBF, eyebrows and flushing. So we typically pay more attention to the posture of another person. So humans can pick out little details better.

9.) Na'vi are better are regulating their emotions. Or at least dealing with them. I know their brains have 3 lobes or something, while ours have 4. But I just have a feeling that since they have response to another creature in their brain, that they have a better specialize area in the brain for dealing with emotion.

10.) No tumbling or gymnastics for the Na'vi. I was thinking about it. And it's a lot of circular movement and I genuinely think their queue would hit stuff or disorientate them if swung around too much. Like, I know we saw the Metkayina teens do all that diving, and Neytiri's roll on to the boat, but like. She just did that, onto her brain organ. God that had to have HURT.

Thank you for listening to my silliness.

#ao3 #spider socorro #avatar the way of water #ao3 writer #avatar #miles spider socorro #miles socorro #headcanon #sillyposting #silly goofy mood #avatar rda #rda

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pascallftv · 1 year ago

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Girl Next Door— Part 2

Previous Part Series Masterlist

This is part 2 of a series. I highly recommend you read part 1 first!

Summary: Joel takes you to the store to pick out the materials for your new bathroom. At the store, you have an uncomfortable run-in with Joel’s ex wife.

Content: This is a plot based chapter, but it’s very important for the trope <3 Also thank you so much for the love on the last part. Part 3 will be here soon, she’s so cutesie and I can’t wait for you to read it :)

Word count: 4.6k

The drive to the nearest home improvement store was half an hour away. You watched as Joel popped a CD into the CD player in his truck, immediately recognizing the intro to the Rumors album by Fleetwood Mac.

“Rumors?” You said, blocking the sun from your eyes with your hand as you hit the road. Joel glanced over at you, the hint of a smile toying at his lips.

“I didn’t take you as a Fleetwood Mac kind of girl.” Joel said. You watched the veins on his forearm and hand as he gripped the steering wheel to make a turn.

“Dad always played this album when I was growing up. He loved to try and explain all the romance drama in the band to me.” You explained, tapping your thigh with your free hand to the beat of the song.

Your bangs fell softly over your forehead, the golden sun making your skin radiate. Joel kept peeking over at you to admire your beauty. You were so effortlessly beautiful.

“What else do you listen to?” Joel asked you. You looked over at him, admiring the way the sun made the brown in his eyes softer.

“A little bit of everything. I love classic rock because of my dad, but I dabble a lot into pop and alternative. I’d say my favorite artist is probably Aerosmith.” You bit your lip as you thought about your music taste. Most of the artists you listened to were probably after Joel’s time. “What about you?”

“Hmm.” Joel hummed in thought, tapping his forefinger against the steering wheel. “Anythin’ from the sixties and seventies. I love Pink Floyd and Elvis.”

“Interesting.” You said. You noticed a pair of yellow aviators sitting on the dash of his truck, so you reached out to grab them, placing them over your nose. Joel looked over at you, shaking his head.

“Makin’ yourself at home, huh?”

“Do I look like Elvis?” You bit your lip, snapping your finger and pointing at him.

“Somethin’ of the sort.” Joel teased, turning back to watch the road.

“He sure was dreamy wasn’t he.” You said, watching at the fields flashed by you as Joel accelerated down the highway. “I had such a huge crush on him when I was a teenager.”

Joel knit his brows together and glanced over at you with a look of interest, silently asking you to elaborate.

“I had a random Elvis phase. Dad made me sit down and watch a documentary about him one night and after that I was infatuated.”

“Didn’t take you as the type to like Elvis either.” Joel observed, glancing over to look you up and down. “I have his greatest hits CD in the glovebox.”

You grinned and opened the glovebox, sure enough finding the CD. You pressed the eject button and the CD player spit out Rumors, and you carefully replaced it with Elvis 30 #1 Hits. You quietly hummed along as Heartbreak Hotel began playing.

The rest of the drive, you exchanged small talk about music with Elvis playing softly in the background, making it go by in a flash. When you reached the home improvement store, the sun was beginning to set in the horizon. It was golden hour as Joel shifted the truck into park and you both climbed out. Joel caught himself staring at you again. You looked even more beautiful in this lighting and he couldn’t get over it.

You walked beside each other as you entered the store. Something about the smell of a home improvement store felt nostalgic to you. The crisp smell of fresh wood wafted into your nose, mixing with the smell of Joel’s aftershave.

“Let’s look at tiles first.” Joel said, leading the way through the aisles of the store. The store was overwhelming; there were too many aisles to count and you had no idea where anything was, but Joel knew the place like the back of his hand. Going to the hardware store was a common trip for him and he had the store almost memorized.

“Here we are.” He said, entering an aisle with a wide array of both shower and floor tiles. There were so many different colors and textures of tiles, and you immediately began inspecting some that caught your eye. You started with shower tiles.

Your eye landed on a beautiful, dark green backsplash that was coated in a gloss, emphasizing the shifts of color within it. You immediately fell in love with the style of it.

“I think this might be the one.” You said, pointing towards the forest green tile. Joel stepped closer, running his forefinger over the sample of the tile. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. In his chest pocket was a pen, and he jotted down the inventory number of the tile.

“Alright, now what about flooring?” He said, stepping to the left towards the arrangement of flooring samples. There was an overwhelming number of floor tiles.

“Joel?” A voice spoke behind you. Both of your heads snapped up, and standing there was a woman who appeared to be in her forties. She had blonde, blown out hair and a striking red lip. Her makeup was done boldy, and she was wearing a long black dress with sandals.

“Josephine.” Joel cleared his throat. His brows were knit together in irritation. His ex wife was the last person he wanted to see right now.

“And what brings you here?” Josephine questioned, her eyes flickering over to you. She eyed you up and down, taking in your appearance. Suddenly feeling very insecure under her stare, your arms crossed in front of you.

“Buying some things for a remodel.” Joel said monotone. He noticed the way she was eyeing you, and he knew she assumed the worst, but he didn’t care. In that moment he wanted her assumptions to run wild. He didn’t care if she thought you were his girlfriend.

“And who is this?” Josephine said in a catty tone. Her smoked out eyes locked on you, her red manicured fingernails tapping against her purse. You looked down at your own nails. Your nails were barren of any polish, and you felt childish standing next to her.

Joel told her your name and glanced over at you.

“I’m remodeling her bathroom for her.” Joel clarified, his finger toying with the sheet of paper in his hand.

“Hmmm, Lionel’s daughter?” She pursed her lips. “I’d say she’s a bit young for you, huh?”

Your stomach dropped and your eyes quickly landed on Joel. His expression was stoic and almost peeved.

“Where’s Rick?” Joel changed the subject. “Usually when I see you, your tongues are down each other’s throats.”

Josephine scoffed, rolling her eyes. It was then you noticed the massive diamond ring on her finger.

“He’s over in the light section. We’re replacing our chandelier in the foyer.” She said, glancing back over to you. “What’s a spry little thing like you need a new bathroom for?”

“I just moved back from Chicago to live with my father for the time being, and my bathroom needs some updating.” You explained, your voice wavering.

“Living with your daddy, huh?” Josephine’s eyes reverted to Joel’s with a smirk toying at her overdrawn red lips. “I remember those days. Mooching off my parents with no responsibilities.”

You shifted your weight on your feet, now feeling extremely uncomfortable. You weren’t sure who this woman was, but it was evident that she and Joel had a past and she was making it a point to make jabs at you. Joel’s fists clenched at his sides.

“That’s enough, Josephine.” Joel grumbled, shooting daggers with his eyes. She chuckled manically, looking back at you.

“Oh, please. You know I’m just being satirical.” She half smirked, winking at you. You stared back at her blankly.

“Jo?” A man’s voice interjected your attention. A man who looked to be in his thirties was walking towards you all. He appeared to be younger than Josephine, a ring also adjourning his finger. Putting two and two together, you realized this was her husband. His gaze stayed on Joel for a few seconds before landing on you briefly.

“Hi, baby.” She said, pulling him in for a rather long, wet kiss. You tried to hide your face of disgust and turned to distract yourself with the floor tile samples.

“Joel.” You turned your head at her husband’s voice. He was nodding at Joel, and Joel stared back at him with a blank stare.

“Well, we should get going.” Josephine cleared her throat. “It was wonderful to see you.”

Josephine patted her husband’s chest, her fake nails clacking together. Her eyes flickered over to you, but didn’t acknowledge you. The two of them walked away, leaving you with a steaming Joel.

“I fucking hate her.” Joel grunted, stepping closer to you, your shoulders bumping together. “I’m sorry about that. Don’t take anything she said to heart. She’s a miserable bitch.”

“Who is she?” You asked. His brows were taught together in frustration and he shook his head.

“My ex wife. It’s a long story.” He mumbled, lifting the piece of paper with the inventory number. You frowned up at him.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I have all the time in the world if you want to tell me over dinner.” You said caringly, your hand reaching up to touch his arm. Joel looked down at your hand, his eyes then moving to your face. His brows drew together at the gesture, your touch sending heat up his arm. God, you were beautiful.

“I’m sure it would bore you.” He murmured.

“Far from it.” You responded sweetly, removing you hand from his arm and pointing towards a black and white checkered tile. “This one’s perfect.”

He nodded at you and quickly wrote down the inventory number.

“Let’s go pick out your sink and shower so we can get out of here.” Joel said.

You quickly chose your sink, faucets, toilet, shower basin, and shower head. You made sure to choose a detachable shower head, and you hoped to god Joel didn’t pick up on your intentions. Joel, on the other hand, knew exactly why you wanted a detachable shower head. All he could picture was showering with you and using it on your pretty pussy, but he quickly discarded his dirty thoughts, considering you were still in the middle of a home improvement store.

After you’d checked out and left, it was already dusk outside. The materials for your new bathroom would arrive early next week which was perfect. You both climbed up into Joel’s truck, him starting up the engine. Elvis began playing softly through the speakers again. You glanced over at Joel, his mouth turned downward in a frown. The interaction with his ex wife was still bothering him. He was incredibly guilty; it was his fault she degraded you and he should’ve blown up on her right then.

“Where would you like to eat?” You asked, attempting to distract him. He looked at you, his eyes softening when he made eye contact with you.

“Hmm.” He pondered, resting his arm on the door, and scratching his chin in thought. “There’s this diner down the road with really good burgers and shakes. That okay?”

“Sounds amazing.” You replied, reaching to turn the volume dial to turn up the radio as “Return to Sender” began to play.

The drive to the diner was silent, both of you lost in your own thoughts. You were trying your best to seem indifferent, but you truly felt insecure after your interaction with Josephine. After that conversation, you realized you were way too young for Joel and it would never be anything close to what you fantasized about. You felt stupid to even think you’d ever had a chance. Before you knew it, you became teary eyed, but you quickly blinked away the tears. The last thing you needed was to cry in front of Joel.

Joel pulled into the parking lot of the diner, putting the truck in park. You followed behind him inside, keeping your head low. He opened the door for you, noticing your change in mood. He sighed quietly and followed you inside. He followed you to a booth tucked away in the corner. The restaurant was mostly empty aside for a couple elderly couples.

“This place is cute.” You observed, looking around at the various retro decorations. In the corner you noticed a jukebox and bit back a grin.

A waitress approached your table and sat down your menus. You ordered your drinks and food since you already knew what you wanted, and she quickly whisked away with your orders. You cleared your throat and played with your hands in your lap. Joel was looking out the window, his face still laced with irritation.

“So..” you began. “Josephine.”

Joel shifted his eyes to you. He swallowed and rested his arms on the table.

Joel and Josephine’s relationship dated back to high school. They dated on and off for ten years. When they reached their mid twenties, Joel decided he wanted children, but Josephine did not. Albeit, Joel decided it wasn’t a dealbreaker, and decided to stay with her. She was the first woman he truly loved, and he was willing to do whatever it took to please her. Despite her distaste for starting a family, Joel proposed to her on the night of her twenty-eighth birthday. They had a courthouse wedding the next day per her request. Fast forward to their thirties, and Joel noticed that Josephine was acting differently.

Josephine began leaving home for days at a time without an explanation. She stopped being intimate with Joel altogether. He would try, and Josephine would complain that she was tired and not feeling it. One night, Josephine snuck off, and Joel decided to follow her. She drove a few blocks away, and parked at a random house. Joel’s heart dropped when he realized what this meant. Joel parked one house over, and waited several minutes before getting out of the car. He tried the front door, and it was unlocked. The door swung open, and he found Josephine spread out on the couch with Rick between her legs. Nauseous at the sight in front of him, Joel slammed the door behind him and stormed to his car, Josephine yelling his name. Joel ignored her and revved his engine, speeding off.

After he caught her cheating, he soon after learned that Josephine was pregnant, but not with his child. Joel filed for divorce soon after, and it wasn’t a pretty divorce. Joel won the house, but Josephine won most of his money. Years after the divorce as Joel grew older, he realized nothing was tying him down to that deadbeat town. He moved next door to you over four years ago.

Your food came during his story, and you quietly ate as Joel spoke. No wonder he was so agitated at the sight of that woman. You frowned as Joel finished telling you the story.

“I haven’t made an effort to date since then.” He said. “I don’t know why she was at the store. Must not’ve had what they wanted at the store in their area.”

“How long had it been since you’d seen her?” You asked, then took a sip of your chocolate milkshake.

“I’d seen her at our mutual friend’s wedding a couple years ago. She was there with Rick, tonguing each other down the entire time. Then again when my Mom passed away. She had the audacity to show up and kiss on him at the funeral.” Joel said, wiping his fingers with a napkin.

“Oh my god.” You said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “I’m so sorry. What the fuck is wrong with her?”

Your touch sent shocks up his forearm. He swallowed hard, glancing down at your hands touching.

“I don’t even think god knows.” Joel said as he waved the waitress over to give him the check. You reached for your purse, pulling out your credit card, quickly handing it to the waitress.

“What— no.” Joel said, pulling cash out of his wallet.

“Yes, it’s fine. You drove and you’re doing me a massive favor.” You insisted, Joel putting the cash away in defeat.

“I owe you one.” He said. He cleared his throat looking down at you.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” He spoke, taking a drink of his shake. You laughed and looked down at the table.

“Absolutely not.” You sighed with a smile. “Now that’s a long story.”

“Well, sweetheart. I’ve got time.” Joel responded, tapping his finger against the glass of his milkshake.

“Give me one second.” You said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a five dollar bill.

You stood up from the booth and walked over to the jukebox, inserting the bill into it. You searched through the database of songs, choosing several that stood out to you. You smiled as Sweet Emotion by Aerosmith began playing through the speakers of the diner. When you’d chosen all the songs you could, you found your way back to the booth. Joel gazed up at you with wonder in his eyes. He chuckled softly and shook his head at you. While you were gone the waitress had returned your card, and he slid it across the table to you. You grabbed it and put it away in your purse, then leaned onto your crossed arms on the table.

Joel listened attentively as you gave him the rundown of your last relationship. Similarly to what your dad had told him, you explained that your ex boyfriend cheated on you after dating him for two years. You caught him cheating on you with your best friend at the time. There wasn’t anything crazy about the story, just that you spent many sleepless nights crying yourself to sleep wondering what you could’ve done differently. You wondered if there was something wrong with you; you had given him your all just to be torn down entirely. Among many firsts with him, he was your first love and was the one to take your virginity. Since then, you’d avoided getting close with anyone romantically out of fear of getting hurt again.

“I went on a few dates in Chicago, but none of them really amounted to anything.” You said, your finger tracing the rim of your milkshake glass. “I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time in all honesty. My ex fucked me up pretty bad and I just wasn’t ready to commit to anyone. I’m glad I didn’t.”

“You’re glad you didn’t?” Joel questioned, furrowing his brows.

“Yeah, I don’t think that would’ve been fair to someone, you know? Me not being ready to commit and fighting my own insecurities shouldn’t have been anyone’s problem but my own.” You explained further.

“And how do you feel currently?”

You cleared your throat and averted your gaze around the restaurant as you thought. You bit your bottom lip as “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen began playing.

“I’m not sure if I’m being honest with you. I’m not entirely opposed to trying a relationship again, but I’m not going to actively go out and seek something. If it happens, it happens.” You said. “And you?”

“I think you explained it perfectly.” Joel said as he pulled his truck keys out of his pocket. “As much as I’d like to keep chatting, the night isn’t getting any younger and neither am I.”

The next day, you were working attentively in your makeshift office while Joel began tearing apart your bathroom. After your dinner the night prior, all you could think about was Joel. Your heart ached for him. You felt hopeful that he had enough trust for you to tell you about his past. You also felt more comfortable with him in general. It was comforting seeing a side to him that wasn’t abrasive and stand-off. You’d both had your tribulations with your romantic pasts, and it made you hopeful that just maybe there was a future for the both of you. You felt silly for even thinking there was a part of you that thought there was a possibility of you two being able to be together.

By noon you were finished with your work for the day, so you decided you could help Joel with the demolition. You stood from your desk, closing your laptop for the day after sending off your completed content. Suddenly, you got an idea. You remembered you brought your vintage camcorder, and this would be the perfect opportunity to use it. You could record the progress of your bathroom remodel and make a short video when it was all finished.

You entered your bedroom to the sound of Joel ripping apart the walls of your shower. You reached into one of the boxes you had yet to unpack and pulled out your camcorder. You turned it on, and walked over to the entryway of the bathroom, recording him. You admired the way his muscles flexed as he pried apart the paneling of the shower wall, exposing the bare wall behind it. He was sporting protective glasses and thick gloves. You watched as he leaned over in his jeans, the material pulling tight against his muscular legs. A smile tugged at your lips as Joel turned around, his breathing heavy.

“What are you doing?” He said winded, letting his hand with the crowbar fall slack to his side.

“Making a progress video.” You replied, zooming in on him with your camera. Joel fought back a smile, shaking his head at you.

You looked adorable standing there in your flowy sweatpants and off the shoulder sweater. Joel could tell you weren’t wearing a bra underneath, your nipples poking through the material. You looked so cuddly and he wanted nothing more than to halt working for the day so he could spend his time cuddled up next to you in your bed kissing every inch of your body.

You lowered the camera from your eyes, and turned it off. You tossed it on your bed, then turned back around to watch Joel for a moment. You leaned against the door frame and crossed your arms. Joel continued peeling the shower paneling off the wall, tossing the remnants into the tub behind him.

“Can I help you?” You asked. Joel turned to face you, his chest rising and falling, his breathing heavy.

“No need.” He said, wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead.

“But I want to. I’m done with work for the day, it’s the least I could do.” You pleaded. Joel stared at you for a moment before finally reaching down to his tool bag, grabbing a spare pair of gloves and goggles.

“Here.” He said, holding out the gear for you to take. You grabbed them from him, carefully putting the goggles over the bridge of your nose, then sliding on the gloves.

“Do you see those tiles behind the paneling? I need you to break those off the wall.” Joel instructed. “Watch me.”

He brushed past you, rearing back his dominant hand with a hammer, striking the tiles with force, watching them crumble down into the shower basin. He stepped back to give you room to take.

“Your turn.” He said, gesturing for you to try.

You stepped forward, taking the hammer from his hand, clearing your throat. You wound your arm backwards, before hitting another tile. You didn’t hit it hard enough, as the tile didn’t budge. Joel approached you from behind, grabbing your hips, then snaking a hand around to lay flat against your belly. Your breath hitched in your throat, the touch planting goosebumps across your skin. Joel leaned down to your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“Keep your abdominals tight. Twist your torso like this when you swing.” Joel said, using his hand to twist your hips backwards slightly, then twisting them back parallel with his own. Your back brushed against his chest. Your cheeks felt hot, and the air began to feel stuffy in the room.

Joel’s internal monologue was screaming at him to back away from you. Your body heat was radiating onto him, your hips pressed to his. Your sweet vanilla scent enveloped him, his eyes fluttering shut as he made a mental note to cherish this moment with you, for he didn’t know if he’d ever be this close to you again. Snapping out of his trance, Joel backed away from you, giving you room to try again at the tiles. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin was on fire. You knew you were pooling in your panties; you felt pathetic. The most innocent of touches and you completely and utterly in shambles.

You inhaled deeply, and did exactly what Joel told you to. You tightened your core muscles, and wound back to swing at the tiles, shattering two of them on impact. You smiled proudly, turning your head to gauge Joel’s reaction. A smile tugged at his lips, and he brushed his hand across your lower back.

“Amazing, sweetheart.” He said. His touch sent chills up your spine.

For the next hour, the both of you took swings at the tiles, knocking the rest of them off the wall. By the end, you were both sweaty and exhausted. You were starving by then, your stomach grumbling.

“Sounds like someone is hungry.” Joel observed ss he took off his gloves and glasses, tossing them in his tool bag. You mimicked his actions, placing yours adjacent to his.

“I haven’t eaten since this morning.” You admitted, running a hand through your hair to get it off your forehead. Joel noticed one of your hairs sticking up, so he reached up and gently fixed the hair, blending it in with the rest of your locks. You bit your lip and averted your gaze. The effect Joel had on you was insane. You felt like a swooning teenager again, like a ball of putty anytime he touched you.

“How about this: I planned on grilling tonight. Why don’t you come over and I’ll make you dinner.” Joel offered.

“That sounds amazing.” You smiled. “I’ll shower, then I’ll head over.”

Joel wondered if you’d touch yourself in the shower like you did the day before. The possibility aroused him immediately. He longed to shower with you, washing your hair and massaging your beautiful body for you.

“I guess I’ll see you in a little bit, darlin’.” Joel said, grabbing his phone and sliding it in his back pocket. Joel started to walk away, and you reached out to grab his arm to stop him. He turned to you with a look of confusion.

“Do you like scary movies?” You asked, keeping your hand on Joel’s wrist.

“I don’t mind them, why?” Joel questioned.

“I’ll bring a couple movies over and maybe we can have a movie night. I know I’ll have nothing to do tonight and I’m sure you get lonely over there by yourself.” You said. You wanted to be able to spend more time with him without raising any red flags or seeming desperate. You couldn’t help that all you wanted was to be around him.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” Joel said, glancing down at your hand on his skin, then giving the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. You smiled up at him, releasing his arm from your grip.

“See you there.”

#joel miller #din djarin #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #the mandalorian #dbf!joel #joel miller smut

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signfromeywa · 6 months ago

Text

AUNGIA TA EYWA (A SIGNS FROM EYWA)

Chapter 04: The Infirmaty

Description:

Anastasia Novak is a behavioural scientist tasked with socializing a captive Na'vi on behalf of the RDA. The longer she works with the Na'vi and the closer she gets to him, the more she has to rethink everything she thought she knew and redefine her morals and values. Can she just carry on like this, or will she follow her heart?

Content: Rating +18, Avatar fanfiction, human x Na'vi ship, Na'vi captured

Characters: Human OCs: Anastasia Novak, Steven Turner, Patra// Na'vi OCs: Ean'tu,

Word Count: 3914

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❗️English is not my native language! I apologize very much if it reads a bit bumpy here and there.

I'm a German author and this is the first time I've tried to translate a story I'm working on into English and upload it. I still hope you enjoy it.❗

A sudden loud bang that shook the walls of the base made Mr. Turner jump up from his chair. He had been scared out of his wits and not long after the loud bang, the base's alarm sounded. Were they under attack? What had happened, just a moment ago Turner had been dozing away in front of the documents with his coffee cup in his hand, now chaos had broken out. The doors to the surveillance room opened.

"Turner! Quick!" Gonzales literally shouted and Turner took off running.

Once in the room, his eyes immediately fell on the window, which offered a view of the enclosure. The red flames colored the otherwise unlit surveillance room red.

"We have to get Sky out of there, now! Mobilize Unit 12 and give Sky a dose! This has to happen quickly!" as he instructed Gonzales and another colleague. The colleague ran out of the room to initiate everything else to get Sky out of the completely destroyed enclosure, Gonzales was busy in the meantime adjusting the dose and administering it to Sky via the collar.

It wasn't long before an entire unit stormed the enclosure. Fully equipped, they fought their way through the flames and searched for the Na'vi, who was lying unconscious somewhere. Only a few minutes later, the next unit arrived to fight the fire. Two AMP suits were mobilized to help get the flames under control and clear the debris out of the way.

Turner stood tensely at the top of the window and watched the units at work. Half of the surveillance technology had failed and he very much hoped that nothing worse had happened to Sky. If something happened to the Na'vi on his shift, it could cost him his head. After a nerve-wracking eternity, he was given the all-clear. The recovery unit had found the Na'vi and taken him out of the enclosure. But now everything had to happen very quickly. Sky couldn't wake up until he was back in a safe room where he couldn't hurt anyone and, above all, couldn't run away.

Gonzales came over to him. " Come on, let's take care of this, it's going to be a long shift."

Turner nodded to his colleague. He was right, besides, he would have to write a detailed report later and let Novak know that she would have to show up for work early, because they would most likely need that woman if Sky got out of control.

Ana woke up to the sudden ringing of her cell phone. Tired, she reached for the device that she had recently started keeping on her bedside table for just such occasions and peered at the number with blurred, tired vision. When she recognized the facility where she worked, she hastily answered her cell phone.

"Dr. Novak, what's wrong?" she asked anxiously, still a little hoarse."Forgive me for interrupting, Turner here, it's about Sky."

"Has something happened to him?" Ana interrupted her colleague, upset and worried.

"He's fine so far, just a few bruises, but we had to transfer him to the infirmary. Could you make it here at short notice?" Turner reassured her.

Ana sat on the edge of the bed and breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, I'll take the next team bus, where do I have to go?"

"Just our normal facility, I'll pick you up at the gate. See you in a minute."

"Yes, ok, I'll be right there. Goodbye." Ana ended the call. What had happened that Sky was in sickbay? It certainly hadn't been easy to move him there. Sky was wild and dangerous, he wouldn't have let that happen without resistance.

Tired, she got up and hurried to put on a skirt and blouse as quickly as she could before setting off. After all, this was still her workplace and she didn't want to be lacking in professionalism. She grabbed her work bag and hurried out of the room and down to the bus stop while she hurriedly checked her wristwatch again. If she remembered correctly, a bus was about to arrive and she couldn't miss it under any circumstances if she wanted to get to the base as quickly as possible.

The bus stopped and she ran the last few meters to catch it. Out of breath, she sat down on a seat in the first row and the bus took off. The journey seemed like an eternity, all she could think about the whole time was Sky and how he was doing. Questions were running through her head, making her tired mind dizzy. So she was delighted when the bus finally reached its destination and she was able to rush out of the doors.

Past the security staff, in the courtyard, her colleague Turner was already waiting. "It's a good thing you made it here so quickly. Sky is completely out of control," Turner said by way of greeting and set off with her.

"What happened, why did he hurt himself?" Ana wanted to know.

Turner's steps were fast and Ana had difficulty keeping up. "A plane crashed and tore one side of the enclosure. It started a fire and the flying debris must have injured Sky," he said, without turning to look at Ana. "That was a big bang, I tell you, I was totally startled."

"Oh shit- sorry." Ana cursed in disbelief, it was lucky that nothing else had happened to Sky. No wonder Sky was beside himself now, he was in a strange environment with strange people and the last thing he remembered for sure was that huge bang. Absolutely disturbing.

Turner went on to fill her in on the state of the enclosure, what measures had been taken and what would be necessary. While he was telling them this, they walked along the large main corridors of the base to an area that Ana had not yet entered. Until now, she had always taken the direct route to her department and had not explored the rest of the base. However, they walked through far too quickly, so Ana had no chance to look around, not to mention to remember where they were. She would never find her way back without help.

The large mechanical doors of a ward appeared in front of them, with a large white glowing sign. Infirmary. But this wasn't where ordinary soldiers went when they were injured, this was a high-security wing. It was already written on the front which security clearance was required here. One that Ana certainly didn't have, but Turner seemed to know what he was doing.

Together they entered the station through the large door and just ahead was an airlock with a receptionist. "Yes, please?" She didn't even look up from her work.

"Mr. Turner, we're here for Sky." He pulled out his employee card and Ana did the same.

Now the woman looked up, inspected the cards and compared the data with her computer. "Yes, that's right. You have to go down the corridor, turn left and go all the way through. He's in the isolation station, room 4," she explained briefly and then opened the airlock to the station for both of them.

With the help of the description, it didn't took them long to find the right room and when the doors opened, they could hear something falling to the floor and shattering, followed by the loud sound of many smaller metal objects falling to the floor.

Turner and Ana hurried in. The room was divided into two areas and separated by a pane of glass. On the far left was a small airlock and behind it was Sky. He was hissing angrily and frightened, pressed against the wall and fending off the medical staff who tried to approach him. In the process, he had knocked over a small side table where medical utensils had been laid out ready for treatment.

The two medics, fully clothed in protective suits and wearing masks, didn't dare approach Sky, their gazes just as frightened as Sky's.

"What's going on here?" Ana wanted to know immediately.

The two medics became aware of her: "He suddenly jumped up and started thrashing around wildly!"

Ana didn't want to hear any more, it was clear that they were scaring Sky and she couldn't blame him. He didn't know what they were planning to do to him, he was completely disoriented and perhaps even in pain.

Without hesitation, she grabbed a mask and entered the airlock. If she didn't intervene, someone else would get hurt.

She entered the separate treatment room and stood in front of Sky: "Please leave the treatment room, Sky is not in a condition where you can treat him."

"Mam, we have to treat his wounds," said one of the medics, raising his hands placatingly.

"You can do your work later, but if you don't leave now, Sky will only hurt you."

"All right," they picked up the medical instruments and bandages that were scattered on the floor and left the treatment room, "watch out, there's broken glass here."

Ana turned to Sky, who was now huddled on the floor in the corner. He had raised his hands anxiously in front of his face because the light in the room was a glaring white and seemed to be blinding him, which must have disoriented him even more. Tears were running down his face and his body was bruised here and there, with small wounds and cuts. His whole body was trembling. Ana felt so sorry for him, but she didn't know what to do. It wasn't as if they had built up any trust in each other, he was probably just as scared of her as he was of the doctors. How could she help him?

Then Sky suddenly lowered his hands and his wrinkled forehead smoothed as he seemed to recognize her.

"...Ana." he then said and Ana's eyes widened in surprise.Had she just heard correctly? Had Sky said her name? It was impossible, even if he was intelligent, that he had remembered the name so quickly since the last time, which had been a few days ago.

"Ana." she heard clearly this time. No doubt he had called for her. She cautiously approached Sky and carefully raised her hands.

"I'm here, don't worry." Ana said gently and crouched down in front of him when she reached him. She sat there hesitantly. Sky's expression had calmed a little when he recognized Ana, but she still wasn't sure how much he trusted her. Was it OK for her to touch him? How close could she get to him?

To her surprise, Sky pulled her out of her thoughts by saying her name again. He seemed to want to communicate with her, but it was the only word he knew. Ana summoned up all her courage and reached out for the Na'vi, who did not flinch. So she reached for his hand.

"Come Sky, come with me." She made a gesture for him to follow her, hoping he would understand beyond the language barrier.

Indeed, as she rose from her crouch, Sky stood up too, but without letting go of her hand. He was so huge, his hand completely covered Ana's, she felt fragile next to him, even though Sky only held her hand very carefully. It was as if he was aware of his size and, above all, his strength.

She gently led Sky to the treatment table where he must have been lying a moment ago. He sat down on it and looked at Ana.

"I'll get the medics to help you now, okay?" Ana knew that he didn't understand a word. Nevertheless, she looked deep into his eyes and said this very slowly in a particularly gentle tone of voice. She was trying to make him understand that she wasn't up to anything bad and that everything was fine.

Nothing was good at all. The circumstances were completely bizarre and actually quite inhuman. In front of her sat something that seemed not unlike the consciousness of humans, and yet he was caged like an animal.

As she turned to go to the airlock so she could use the microphone to ask the medics in, Sky held her by the hand. His eyes looked at her pleadingly; there was no way he wanted to be left alone.

Ana lovingly placed her other hand on his. "It's okay, I won't leave you alone."

She thought about it. Sky needed someone to look at the wounds and treat them, not that anything would get infected. But he would never let the medics near him without Ana.She pointed to his sore knee. "You have wounds." she said very slowly, then pointed out to the medical staff standing in front of the glass pane, still holding the bandages in their hands. "They'll help you take care of the wounds."

Sky looked at her warily and then at the medics. He seemed to be thinking about what Ana might have meant and she hoped so much that he would understand. She didn't know how else to tell him.

"Tam 'ì'awn hu oe." Sky then also said very slowly. Ana could hardly believe that she had just witnessed his language. It was the first time she had heard this foreign language, so she had no idea what he might have said, but from the way he had squeezed her hand, he clearly wanted her to stay with him. She smiled at him, trying to be calm, even though her heart was beating excitedly. She had gotten herself into something, the extent of which she could not yet fully comprehend. The more she saw that Sky was not so emotionally dissimilar to her, the more she had to question everything she thought she knew.

Ana looked to her right, to the window behind which the medics stood and watched in amazement as Ana dealt with Sky, waiting to do their job. With a gesture, she indicated to the two men that they should come to her and Sky to treat him. Only hesitantly did they both set off, still full of suspicion as to whether the Na'vi would be able to control himself this time or whether he would fight them off again.

Turner also seemed to be watching tensely. He seemed to be worried about Novak in particular, just like on the first day. As the medics stepped through the airlock, Sky's hand holding Anas tensed. His tail whipped nervously back and forth and his ears flattened. Ana could see him clenching his teeth and tightening his jaws, but he remained still. He was clearly still scared, but he trusted Ana to look after him, which she was determined to do.

"Come to us, but slowly, don't make any loud noises that might frighten him," Ana instructed.

The men approached them slowly, careful not to make any rash movements. They placed the utensils for cleaning, disinfecting and bandaging on the small side table with castors that they had set up again.

"Can we approach him without concern?" one of them asked uncertainly.

"I can't promise anything, but I'm in good spirits if you move calmly and slowly," Ana answered them, but looked at Sky to let him feel safe. The medics carefully began to clean his wounds and Ana knew that most of them stung a lot. Sky held on bravely. His body was tense and his face showed fear and uncertainty, but he didn't break eye contact with Ana. She would have loved to say something to him now, but she didn't want to risk Sky answering her in his own language. After all, Ana didn't know who exactly knew that Na'vi were apparently an intelligent species and what would happen if the wrong people found out.

After plasters had been applied to the few abrasions and two deeper cuts had a thin bandage, the two medics left the treatment room again. You could immediately see that Sky's tension had eased a little. He was much more relaxed when he was alone with Ana, but unfortunately she also had to leave now, however much she hated to leave him behind. He needed her now more than ever, of course, she was aware of that, but she had to talk about his further whereabouts. After all, he couldn't stay here. He needed a place where he could rest, with somewhere to sleep. Here in the room there was only emergency care equipment with a treatment table. If she took a closer look, it was even the right size for Sky. That was extremely unusual. None of this changed the fact that the circumstances had to improve for him.

"I have to go for a moment, but I'll be back." She looked Sky in the eye. "I need to talk to my colleague." She pointed at Turner.

Sky looked at her, worry written all over his face. He didn't want her to leave. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he pointed at Ana and said her name.

She nodded with a smile. "Yes, I'm Ana." But then he pointed to himself. "Ean'tu"

Ana's breath hitched for a second as she processed what the Na'vi had just said. Was it what she suspected? Had he just told her his name? His real one? Ana had to make sure. She pointed at him now too. "Ean'tu?" she said in an uncertain, questioning tone. The Na'vi, who apparently went by the name Ean'tu, nodded and Ana thought she saw a faint smile on his lips.

Ana pointed at herself again: "I am Ana," she said slowly, every single word, then pointed at him. Would he understand?

He looked at her warily and pointed at himself too. "I. Am. Ean'tu," he spoke after Ana, with a strong accent, only with his name instead of hers.

"Yeah, right." Ana smiled happily at him. He had understood quickly, she hadn't expected him to really try to communicate with her and if he did, it wouldn't be here. It was all very unexpected and she wished they had more time and, above all, more privacy. But there was a lack of both and she really had to go and talk to Turner, who certainly had enough questions.

"I'll be right back, I promise," she said softly and released her hand from his. Ean'tu stood up immediately, wanting to grab her hand again, but then hesitated when Ana flinched. That he would reach for her so suddenly had admittedly startled her and Ean'tu seemed to have noticed. His gaze went to the window behind which Turner was standing, watching them both tensely through the glass.

Then Ean'tu sat down again. He apparently didn't want Turner to think he was going to attack Ana again, because now he seemed very passive and was ready to let Ana go, even if she could read in his gaze that he was reluctant to do so. But she didn't have any more time to waste. Ana's colleague was waiting for her outside and she didn't want to keep him waiting any longer. She hurriedly left the isolated area through the airlock and approached Turner.

"What happens to Sky now?" she wanted to know directly. Now that she knew what Ean'tu's real name was, it felt wrong to talk about him as Sky. The name he had been given by a human. But for now, it was safer for them both and wouldn't lead to unnecessary questions.

"The enclosure is still partially destroyed and will probably need a few more days until at least everything is escape-proof again, until then Sky can't go back," Turner explained the situation. Among other things, he was responsible for managing the enclosure and therefore always knew exactly what was going on.

Ana crossed her arms thoughtfully. "We can't leave Sky here, he needs to rest, it's all been a lot of excitement for him. Isn't there a temporary enclosure for him?"

"We have a sanatorium on this base, with various enclosures, but I can't tell straight away which ones are currently occupied and which are not. I'll make a few phone calls in a minute. If I have anything, we can move him." Turner looked over at Ean'tu thoughtfully. "The only thing we have to think about is transportation. We can't just transport him through the station like that, there's a high risk of escape or worse, he could attack someone. I'll be glad if there's something between him and me to keep us apart."

Ana could have been upset. The way Turner talked, Ean'tu was a monster, but Ana was no longer convinced of that at all. He was considerate and careful around her. To be honest, she had the feeling that he was very sensitive and therefore often very scared. If only she could make his circumstances better. She was determined to do this in the future and, above all, she really wanted to find out more about the secret contact. Her contact certainly knew a lot more about the Na'vi."Take care of initiating the transfer, I'll take care of Sky," Ana looked at her colleague resolutely. "I'll make sure he goes safely with me to the other station. No need to sedate him again."

"You want to... walk through the ward with him? Just like that? I can't let you do that. It's far too dangerous to trust on your word alone that Sky won't get out of control again and hurt someone." Ana could understand Turner's mistrust, but they had to start trusting him somewhere. At least Ana could, but Turner didn't know what she knew either. She was sure she could form a good bond with Ean'tu.

"We're taking security measures. We clear the corridors from here to the sanatorium, then we don't endanger anyone. We'll seal off the exits so Sky can't escape and he'll still have the collar on in case of emergency. So if he gets out of control, we can use it to tame him," suggested Ana, who was now all the more determined to move Ean'tu without sedating him. He should walk on his own. If he could see that Ana trusted him to do this and that he wouldn't hurt her, it would be good for their bond.

"...Novak, you have some ideas." Turner sighed.

"But they're good, aren't they?" Ana grinned.

"Unfortunately, it's not a bad plan... but I'll have to talk to the boss to get permission to evacuate and go into lockdown. After all, we'll be shutting down a small part of the facility."

"Good, then I think you should start making calls right away." Ana laughed a little, although she felt sorry for her colleague. These were certainly difficult calls that she wouldn't have wanted to make herself. But then again, she was the brave one who was always with Ean'tu. Although she was no longer sure whether the Na'vi was the greater evil in this case.

Ana turned away to go through the airlock, "Let me know when we can start the transfer, I'll take care of Sky until then."

"All right, I'll see you later." Turner pulled out his cell phone and began to enter a number as he left the room. Ana just looked after him for a moment, then went through the airlock to Ean'tu, who had apparently been watching them the whole time and was already waiting for her.

Tag List: @twisteduniverse5 @yukilaaw @mooniequeen (If you want to get added, comment it under the post)

#na'vi #na'vi oc #avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #avatar oc #avatar pandora #omatikaya #oc #writers on tumblr #fan story #fanfiction #fanfic #na'vi x human #signfromeywa #signfromeywa fanfiction

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gretavanlace · 1 year ago

Text

Sugar II (part 3)

18+ plus only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: adult themes, angst, discussions of alcohol consumption, etc

Thank you all so much for your patience while I was out of town…I love you and never intentionally keep you waiting! You’re my babies!! ❤️❤️

“Why am I always the last to know everything?” Sam slips into Josh’s dressing room, shirtless and as always, slapping along on two bare feet “Is it because I’m the youngest, or are you just an asshole?”

In contrast to his brother, Josh drips in beaded satin; glitter swept deftly across his eyes; rhinestones grabbing at the light until he winks and flashes like a star against its midnight sky.

No one would expect anything less. He is always the first to be found wandering the hallowed arena halls, made up and shining like old Hollywood royalty. It soothes him…a lullaby masquerading as expensively tailored glitz. You used to help him…zipping up jumpsuits he could have easily secured himself, fussing over his hair, lint rolling velvet, laughing and chattering away to keep his mind off that unforgiving anxiety of his. They are memories he cherishes and thinks of nearly every time he primps.

They each have their rituals - Daniel bangs around on a kit until his arms are loose and his mind is buzzing with adrenaline. Sam terrorizes the crew and his brothers with his trusty four-legged sidekick, shaking off the jitters with hijinks. And Jake scrutinizes his gear meticulously, checking the work of techs and roadies who definitely know what they’re doing. He usually finds something to pick apart anyway. It sharpens his focus and quiets his mind.

Josh steps into costume and becomes someone else. Someone he often doesn’t recognize…who is this person with such charisma and grace? He who commands the attention of crowd after crowd roaring and shaking the rafters? He who is worthy of such primal, hungry fervor?

That is how he finds the spotlight night after night. While the others do their own things, Josh quietly dresses and becomes someone, something, else.

And so, draped in his finery, he watches Sam through the mirror as he flops into a chair, all legs and attitude. “By all means, Samuel, make yourself at home.”

“Were you even going to tell me that she’s here? She always liked me best, you know? She was just too sweet to mention it to you idiots.”

Josh turns with a chorus of clattering glass beads, and leans back against the vanity, arms folded “One, I haven’t even seen you since I found out, so you’ll forgive me. Two, I knew Daniel would break his fucking neck to be the first to tell you,” He shrugs, “figured I’d let him have his moment.”

Popping open a White Claw, Sam ignores his brother's carping in favor of a question “You see her yet?”

“Yes,” Josh turns back to his reflection, patting a fingertip lightly over his eye makeup.

Never in possession of any patience to speak of - the baby of the family rarely is - Sam immediately prods him along. “And?”

He’s met with a sigh, “And what? I went to see her, we caught up for a little while, and then I left. That was that.”

“I went to see her,” there’s a mocking, obnoxious quality to Sam’s tone as he parrots Josh “we caught up for a while and then I— would you shut up? What happened? How is she?”

“She’s...I don’t know. She’s herself and not herself. She looked sad.” The revelation comes with a sadness of its own. “She’s getting married, so she shouldn’t have looked so damn miserable...but she did, and I hated it. It almost made me wish I hadn’t even knocked on her door.”

“I’m usually sad when you knock on my door, too.” Sam deadpans, attempting to lighten the mood at least a little.

“Must you lie, Samuel? You’re stricken with joy when I enter a room, just like everybody else.”

“Christ,” Sam mutters, tossing Josh a white claw to match his own, “I swear, if you could suck your own dick, you would.”

Josh cracks it open and slurps with a dramatic flourish, “Obviously.”

“Why do you think she looks so miserable?” Sam is pondering, turning something over in his mind with worry evident in his eyes.

“Probably because she knows she’ll likely have to see you. That’d be my guess, anyway.”

Josh is disguising his own knotted up stomach with humor. Sammy knows it, and chooses to ignore the dig.

They settle into their drinks until Sam speaks up once again, “She’s getting married? That’s just…” he quiets, unsure and still bristling with concern, “How are you gonna tell him? You gotta wait until after the show, that’s for sure.”

For once in his life, Josh has been rendered temporarily speechless, and that answers the question just fine.

“Are you serious?” Sam leans forward, elbows on his knobby knees, “You can’t be serious.”

“How am I going to tell him?” Now they’re just lobbing questions back and forth at one another. “You can’t be serious!”

Sam’s eyes widen, shocked and hurting for Jake in his absence. It would almost be comical if the situation could lend itself to anything other than this crushing weight, “We have to tell him, Josh. This isn’t okay. He has the right to—“

Suddenly, Josh pushes away from the vanity and the energy radiating from him shifts until he looks nearly frantic, “He has the right to what, Sam? To know? To see her? Have you lost your fucking mind? Put him in a room with her and we’re right back where we started. Three years progress,” his fingers snap harshly, “Poof! gone in a goddamn second.”

Matching his energy, Sam is on his feet in an instant, “Progress? Now whose lost his fucking mind? What progress are we talking about here, Josh? Because from where I’m standing, he’s made none. For his twin you’re remarkably ignorant.”

“I’m not ignorant,” this is bad, especially right before they’re expected to perform. They both know it, but on they march. “I know him backwards and forwards, Sammy, so just fucking listen to me for once. She stays in the past for him and that’s just the way it’s gonna be, end of discussion.”

“She stays in his past, or yours?” Sam counters, sizing his eldest brother up as though he can see right through him.

Shoulders slumped, Josh shakes the venom in Sammy’s accusation off “That isn’t fair.”

“I don’t give a shit. Answer the question.”

Sometimes, Sam readies for battle in a manner that always comes as a shock no matter how many times they’ve seen it happen. When he sheds that goofball demeanor in favor of a game face, it hardly seems real.

He is fierce in his love and loyalty to those he holds close, and tonight, Jacob has earned his favor.

“This isn’t about me, I promise you that.” The truth rings out clear in Josh’s vow. “I loved her once, I love her still, just differently now. I couldn’t do that to him. Not ever. The way he loved her canceled me out a long time ago.”

“Loves her.” Sam corrects, with a finger pointed at his brother to drive home his point.

“All the more reason to keep your mouth shut.” Josh’s timbre is threatening in a way it almost never is. It sounds and feels strange…out of place. “She’s getting fucking married, do you really think he can handle that? Use your fucking head, Sam. Leave it alone.”

Hand on the door handle, Sam watches Josh as if he’d very much like to hurt him, “Who are you to decide what he can and can’t handle?”

The show is their worst in their collective memory since their days as greenhorns, though it’s doubtful the fans have taken notice. Each mishap is small and easily disguised, but present all the same. They are unsteady and off-kilter, but only Jake is oblivious as to why.

He snaps a string, misses a mark, foils a riff or two. Josh falls flat and overcompensates, vibrato ringing out sharp. Sam refuses to look in his eldest’s brother’s direction, leaving them detached and removed in an unsettling way. Danny is on point from a technical standpoint, but robotic…their chemistry has vanished tonight and they can all feel it.

The moment they stalk off stage, Sam is clamoring for Jake’s attention as Josh fights to intercept.

Most nights, they’ll filter off into their respective solitude for a time to bask in the quiet before the noise of the bus. Tonight, Sam follows Jake, and Josh follows Sam.

“Jake,” Sam jogs along, easily closing the distance his brother has gained ahead of him with those lanky legs of his. “Hold up, I need to talk to you.”

“It can wait.” Jake is on a mission, clearly in a hurry to close a door and shut out the world. To find a bottle and make love to the whiskey inside it.

“No, it can’t because—“

“He said it can wait, Sam.”

Josh’s admonishment, and the viciousness it’s crackling with, is what turns Jake around. It makes no sense for his twin to be this hostile over something so innocuous; over some random conversation Sam would like to have that doesn’t even involve him.

He turns to find Josh’s glare burning murderously in Sam’s direction. The air emanating from him is in such dramatic contrast to the sunny ray of entertaining light that has just been beaming around the stage, and immediately, Jake senses the urgency of the moment.

On his part, Josh feels the switch flip inside his twin and knows that they’re about to head into dangerous territory. Fucking Sam.

“What?” Jake is furiously fumbling with his hair, shoving sweat soaked snarls away from his face, suddenly overstimulated and on edge. “What is it?”

Sammy speaks up, fighting to be heard clearly as crew members dart around and rush by in a flurry of tasks. “She’s here. Well, not here, but at the hotel.”

Defeated, Josh admits his loss with a quiet “God damn it, Sam.”

Jake somehow manages to catch it over the din and he knows. Or at least, he thinks he knows. He can feel it coming off of Josh like ghostly fingers stretching out to claw at his chest. Still, he doesn’t quite understand, the pieces are just this shy from falling into place.

“Who?” His query is tentative…filled with hopefulness and also a strange terror. A fear he’s only ever felt once before, when, helpless and shattered, he had to watch you say goodbye. A torturous longing only you can evoke.

Sam’s lips part to speak, but Josh shoves past him, grabbing Jake by the arm with black beads shaking about on his shoulders. “No one. Go shower. Have a drink.”

Somehow, Josh’s grip tells Jake everything. All that feverish panic seeps into the fabric of his jacket, somehow chilling his flesh with its burn. “She’s here?” His entire body is rattling with frenetic energy and he wonders if he might crumple to the ground and spark like a downed power line if Josh were to let go of him.

“Jake,” his name is a coddling whisper on his twin's lips, “Leave. Now. C’mon, I’ll go with you. You know what’s best, I know you do.”

As it turns out, Jake doesn’t hit the ground like a live wire, because when he shoves Josh off, his footing is sure. “How did you know she was here? You knew? And you weren’t gonna fucking tell me? Have you seen her?”

Ashamed, and afraid of what’s to come, Josh remains silently stoic under his brother’s eager and furious scrutiny.

“I said, have you fucking seen her?” Now Jake’s body is vibrating with a fury so out of control it’s threatening to boil over and scald anyone in its path.

Suddenly, Danny appears as though summoned by the gods of intervention, as he so often seems to be. He steps in, tugging Jake away from his brothers while staring daggers at Sam.

Sam never fucking thinks…or is he the only one who is actually thinking clearly this time around?

“Come on,” Jake is stumbling around on his feet to keep up with a much larger Daniel, as he drags him along to his dressing room.

It feels like a fever dream when at last he pushes Jake into a chair before shutting their brothers out with a door slammed in their faces.

“Look,” he finds a seat in front of Jake and places a hand on his bouncing knee. “You’ve got to calm down and think for a minute. Do you really want to see her? I mean…”

He isn’t given the chance to finish his sentence, because nothing any of them can say will matter anyway.

“Take me to her.” Neither of them could have any way of knowing that Jake’s plea mirrors the one you had struggled to swallow down in Danny’s arms.

“I don’t know where she is.” He speaks in honesty, and Jacob can sense that.

“Find out.” He rises to his feet and straightens his back, resolved and ready to fight for this. Ready to fight for you. “Josh knows, that fuck. Go find out.”

“Alright,” Daniel nods because what’s to be done now? What’s to pointlessly fight? “Shower in here. I’ll go talk to him.”

You’re mindlessly staring at the television screen, gaze blurring and focusing in and out as some chef with a lovely accent you can’t seem to place tosses ingredients round a hissing wok.

The entire room is awash in the scent of the shower you’ve just wept your way through, and the robe you’re swaddled in feels stiff and scratchy. You should change, you know, but you haven’t the energy. Better to lie here uncomfortable and twisted up in aching sadness, that old friend of yours whom you’ve denied for far too long.

Lie to yourself all you want. Shove it inside a box and lock it up tight with chains and latches until it rusts shut, but that throbbing agony will wait patiently for you. Never losing focus, ever vigilant for the moment it can blast its way back into your broken heart.

How you’ll ever rise and put on a professional face for brunch in the morning is a cipher you don’t care to decode tonight.

He’s all you can think of; memories of him. Loneliness for him. The need, so real and palpable. It’s as if you can smell him on your skin though he hasn’t swept his fingers across it in years.

Years? How is that even possible? It seems laughable that you’ve managed so long without him. It seems impossible. A nightmare that you’ve been muddling through.

When the knock sounds out, clipped and sure, at your door, you’re tempted to ignore it - and you even give it a go, but it comes again along with a cheery greeting “Room service!”

You haven’t ordered room service at all, but there stands a smart looking hotel employee, dressed to the hilt in his crisp uniform, waiting patiently beside a cart, when you peer through the peep-hole.

Tightening that terrible robe, you crack open the door, readying to let him know he’s made a mistake, when a hand darts out to push several folded up bills into the server’s hand.

Stunned and struck silent, you manage only to stare as Jake gives thanks and sends him on his way, eyes never straying from your face.

He reaches for you instinctively, but thinks better of it and drops those hands you know so well to his sides, flexing them as if to shake the need to touch you away.

Instead, he opts to offer a soft smile and a gentle joke “Hey, sugar, how’d we get to this place where I’ve got to pay off hotel employees to knock on your door for me, hmm?”

“I—“ You give your head a tiny shake, begging the thoughts rattling around inside it to make sense.

He looks so different. His hair is shorter, and he’s filled out, thickened in a way that makes your throat constrict for all you’ve missed. He’s as beautiful as ever. Alluring and changed, but still just him. Familiar and breathtaking. Perfect and right. Yours. But yours no longer.

Strangely, it’s what he’s wearing that makes you weakest and a little unsteady. He’s dressed in tattered sweats and a beaten up t-shirt. Thrashed vans that were stark white in another life, and damp hair, clearly brushed in a hurry. You love this so much more than if he’d strutted back into your life dressed to the nines. You’d hate to think he’d forgotten you enough to think that sort of thing might impress you.

“Are you gonna invite me in or should I just stand out here in the hallway all night watching you?”

A laugh, breathy and dumbfounded, huffs out of you. You remember the first time he’d said those words to you, and surely he does too. Was that a calculated effort on his part? To remind you of where you’ve been together? Of who you were together?

It’s an awful, self-destructive idea, inviting him in, and you know it is, you do. But when he steps into the room, you can smell him and the fist that has been cruelly clenched around your heart for countless days and nights, relaxes and finally, finally, you can breathe.

The door closes with a click and he’s suddenly so close you could taste his breath if you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into it.

“Hi, pretty girl,” He hushes, and you wish his mouth was pressed against your ear so you could secret that quiet greeting away and live on it for the rest of your days.

All that white-hot closeness morphs into a hug. He’s hiding behind the platonic gesture, and so are you, but he can feel it, the way your body tenses and then melts against his own.

He feels as if he might disintegrate into a puddle of blackened anguish if he ever has to let you go, forever staining the horrendous hotel flooring where you once stood like an ethereal phantom sent to mend his heart. But a hideous reminder of where you once existed in this room with him for a few precious moments.

His hands have touched too many bodies to count since he last held you, but he has felt nothing until this moment.

No, he loathes the thought of letting you go, but he pulls back anyway, readying to let you lead this interaction. Alas, his palms find your cheeks all on their own, cupping the beautiful face he’s bartered with the devil for, that he’s prayed to god for, that he’s raged and begged for.

“My girl,” he wonders, like you can’t possibly be real. “My fucking girl.”

Your hands are molded over his, how did that happen? And then he’s releasing your face in order to lace your fingers together…he longs to touch you everywhere, but that isn’t okay any longer, is it? So he’s desperate for a way to latch onto you innocently.

He feels it then, and holds fast when you try to pull your hand away. Gaze - gorgeous honey swirling with caramel and horror - locked in on yours, he turns your hand to inspect the ring perched there like a weapon sent to destroy him.

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