#honestly i just really want pain and unrequited longing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freshlyrage · 3 months ago

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 31

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 8.5k

A/N: I got a bit carried away. HEHEHEHE.

Andrea's little look

When the sun comes in you aren’t regretful. But you aren’t happy.

Your head is pounding and there’s a pit in your stomach that you can’t get rid of and it isn’t from the remnants of alcohol. Your legs are intertwined and his palm is laid flat on your stomach. There’s a part of you expecting to wake up and rub yourself on him, continue what you left off last night. But you have the urge to cry.

“I don’t know what came over me last night.” He speaks first, raspy from sleep or maybe lack thereof. “We shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have.”

“it wasn’t just you. I wanted it to happen.”

You remove his palm from your belly and raise it, fingers around his wrist you intertwine your other hand with his. It was calloused and littered with tiny abrasions. Much more man. “But I think I know it wasn’t right. I don’t feel really good.” Stroking your thumb over the knuckle of his pointer finger. Skin had been split there many times, you feel it.

His chest stutters below your cheek. “I’m sorry.” His voice is so broken you drop his hand and shoot straight up. His eyes are darkened and there’s tears out of the corner of his eyes. One falling too quickly for him to hide it. Your own chin quivers and you sit criss crossed beside him, taking the pad of your thumbs to wipe the tears that continue to fall. You whisper his name, leaning close to kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry I pushed you away…I was sick from feeling so guilty—I couldn’t focus the first few months—until I started therapy—Andrea..” His voice rips and his eyes are swarmed with tears. You weren’t— you couldn’t be immune to his tears. You weren’t angry, you never could be. Not when you know how he was taken advantage of.

“Javi…” You wipe his cheeks. It’s all you could say.

“Tell me— tell me how it made you feel.”

“I was mostly feeling for you—because of what she did-“ You lie and he shakes his head.

“Just tell me.” He sits up and you shuffle to give me space. “Tell me so I can stop driving myself crazy. So that when you leave I’ll be fine.”

The tables turned and you hate it.

You recall being in this position, wanting every answer from him so that you aren’t left to spiral when he leaves. There’s so much to tell him, he looks so desperate. So tortured by his own circumstance. You swallow, furrowing your brows. Wondering how to start. How to lay all of it out on the table. You peek at the window, the sun creeping in, it's early. Early enough for the house to still be silent. Your hair is mussed, you feel his wet eyes burning a hole through you.

“I hated you. For those two weeks. My cheeks would get red from anger when I thought about how careless you could be… plan a future with me after everything we went through– after everything I went through. It drove me crazy that you couldn’t fucking keep track of who you fucked and when or whatever. I was already feeling insecure when she came into the bathroom at Frankie’s wedding, I knew something was wrong. Honestly, I don't even remember the night when you told me. All I recall is the moment you told me, the pain I felt in my chest. I don't know—I realized over the years that I had the mental power to completely block out what hurts me the most. Like I don't think I can make out my fathers face and I can't remember that night. It started my journey to try to forget you.” You know every word is hurting him but maybe he could get a taste of what you felt. Your thinking isn't spiteful, you just want him to understand. He asked for this. “Lorraine was lying, I know. But you took responsibility so quickly, I know you had no idea but the idea that it could have been true felt like a heartbreak in itself. You laughed last night… when I told you how hurt I was–crying to songs–”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Javier, it's okay. You just have to know that I spent those two weeks picturing you rubbing her belly, and laying in bed with her, and whispering to her to not wake your father up. And at the wedding she said that you used to tell her I was nothing to you. I couldn't picture you saying it but after the wedding I could see it clearly. I knew it was really over when I saw you holding her at 7/11. I walked away without saying anything but I was really hoping you’d come after me.”

You can't see him, he’s sat up now, shifted behind you but his downcast gaze is felt. You can feel him thinking behind you, you're taking him step by step along your brain. “I decided I was going to move away. I buried myself in phone calls and realtors and car dealerships, packed everything or whatever. I didn’t speak to anyone really, just wanted to disappear. But I wasn’t going to miss your wedding.”

“Why?” He isn’t crying anymore, the fog in your brain clears. Glancing over your shoulder you connect with his own blood shot stare.

“I had to see it so I can just move on. You know… then we all found out.” He asked not to see you. “I was so heartbroken for you. All the pain I felt from the rejection from my father, from when you left for Houston, from when you told me she was pregnant– none of it compared to the pain I felt for you when I found out it was all a lie. I just wanted to see you.” Fuck, your voice finally gives. You could spell it out for him like you did the rest, you could tell him that his request freed you while simultaneously ripping you in half. You know it led you to accomplish all the things you wanted, you left your doomed home for christ's sake. But I wanted you to do it with me. We could have left together. You think your body's decision to sob and fold over into your hands tells him the rest of what he needs to know.

“Andrea…” He whispers, his hands encircling your shoulders. You shake him off.

You catch a breath and wipe your tears with your palms. Probably dragging some mascara along the way. “It isn’t smart for us to be doing this. I promised myself I wouldn't. I should go.” Your body begins before you can even form a thought. Getting off his bed, still in tears you search for your panties. The bed springs with him coming to his feet and he’s so much larger than you, you begin to miss fifteen minutes ago when you were nothing but someone encased by his warmth. You snatch the small thing and nearly fall over from blurry eyed vision while attempting to put them on. Like the gentlemen he was and fuck him, Javier holds your arm steady. “Thanks.” You murmur before padding away from him.

“Don’t leave… you don’t have to stay here like we said but please…” He rasps, “Please dont leave yet.” He lets go of your wrist. You were a victim to his begging eyes, and frankly you loved the chase. No matter how many times it hurts you. It’s too easy for him to convince you but he heard you. You had to be fair, you had to listen to him.

Without a word you pull the chair of his desk with a screeching sound. He fucked you there once or twice. You missed when memories still felt sweet. You settle down on the chair, elbows on the desk you inhale and exhale steadily. In your peripheral Javier settles at the corner of the bed.

“I won’t keep you here. I didn’t scheme to have you back in my bed, to confuse you—frankly I’m fucking confused. I’m confused on what I feel. I’ve spent years working out how to approach you, my therapist brought me through it. I knew once I saw you I had to tell you everything, I had to apologize and let you make the decision whether you wanted me in your life or not.“ It comes out all in one breath, no longer a whisper or a rasp. “And I’m so fucking sorry but the second I saw you all of that went out the window and I shouldn’t have done this.”

“I offered to sleep in bed with you.” You correct, he was apologetic about the wrong things.

“I was emotionally manipulated by Lorraine. I don’t care if it makes me sound weak, I’ve worked it out with my therapist. I already felt like I needed to push away anyone I loved, I guess I’m like my mother in that way. It’s not an excuse but through all the shit I went through in Colombia at the very least I can say I left that place with a better understanding of myself. I made too many decisions for you—for us. I thought I was protecting you—it’s what I feel like I’m actually good at. And I want to tell you that I have changed, that you have to stay so we can make it work. I want to—” He’s speaking with his hands and suddenly they drop to his lap. “But I can’t keep making decisions for you. It didn’t work before, it’s unhealthy. So please Andrea… just—. What do you want?”

Your blood runs dry. Sobered in an instant from your state at the hardwood, your brows furrow. “What?”

“I will spend every day of my life apologizing to you if that’s what you need. I’ll never speak to you again if that’s what you want. I’ll move to New York and you know I hate New Yorkers. I’ll move on. I’ll leave town without a trace. I’ll do whatever you want.” It’s desperate, your heart is beating against your rib cage so hard you fear it’ll break the bones. “What do you want Andrea?”

You feel like you’ve been here before, your future spanning across your palm. Choice is a funny thing, especially when the possibilities are endless. Yet for someone like you, choice feels constrictive-suffocating—panic inducing. It feels like your heart is going to break through skin and bone. What a mess your mind is, what beauty.

Everything speeds and flashes those few seconds you’re absorbing the simple question of what do you want?

You see Javier pinching the skin of your back inspecting the freckles there when you were twelve, Javier lifting you up to give you a better view, Javier kissing you for the first time, Javier coming home, Javier telling you that he loves you.

He always made the choice to touch you, to kiss you, he said he loved you first. In this Chess board he played white and made the first move. You accept each move because it’s Javi and he has a read on just exactly what you want.

You lift your chin.

“I want to be given time. I want to see that you’ve worked on yourself. I want to learn you again. I want you to learn me. We can see each other as friends while I’m here. I won’t be staying the night with you again, there’s too much—“

“Sexual tension.” He finishes and you roll your eyes hard, it burns from its previous use (sobbing).

“To put it lightly. “ You sigh, wiping the last wet spot on your cheek. Feeling confident when in control. “I want us…” Your brows knit, overtaken by the reality that he will quite literally do anything you say. “To go to dinner.” His brows raise. “As exes—and friends. I want to know everything, I want you to tell me there.”

He shrugs, “I can tell you now.”

“No. I need a neutral environment.” He nods in agreement, the two of you tried to be vulnerable last night and that ended with your pussy on his face. “I want you to speak to Lorraine.”

You watch his body language shift, he was sitting almost boyish and relieved that you had taken control of the situation but this request—it almost looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin. Cheeks paling. “Only if you feel you’re ready to. I will too, separately or together—whichever you prefer. Even if I decide to stay exes, this could be a step to fixing our friendship because we lost that too.” You bring one knee up on the chair and rest your cheek on it. Afraid to say this next part because it might discredit all these boundaries your setting in place. Attempting to be progressive and modern and healthy. Maybe it was the school teacher in you. You lick your lips a bit anxious to speak again.

Javier’s eyes narrow, he leans forward with his arm crossed. “Is that all?”

“I don’t want to hear about whatever hookers you paid when you were away. It’s disgusting and frankly disrespectful to even bring up to me.” Yeah, maybe you were being a little hypocritical and rash. But fuck it, if he said he’d do anything you’d ask.

“Correct if I’m wrong but-“

“Javi, I don’t give a fuck. You said anything.” Your jealous bone was a lethal one. It was like an open wound you loved to toy at.

Sadistically, you pressed him for answers and you were even more furious internally that he actually answered them as if it were nothing. You’re sure when you were tipsy and warm and horny, it didn’t bother you. But you swear your eye twitched the moment you woke and replayed that conversation in your head. Win stupid prizes you suppose, tough shit.

“Alright.” He rasps with a curt nod. His eyes full of promise, nervous and prepared to ace the exam you laid out for him. Ms. Diaz style.

With the morning birds chirping at his window, collar bone exposed from his shirt ruffled from your hold on him the entire night. Javier was here, in front of you, twenty six years of age. 3 years in the police force. Six years in the DEA. Each time you see him he looks older than the day before but still you stare and see just Javi. The unchanging eyes that have done nothing but adore you your entire life. Lips that called you beautiful when no one had, called you smart. Plush lips that kissed you. Hands that pushed you in rivers and pulled you back out. Fingernails that traced words into your sleeping back. The two of you, changing in time mentally-physically and still somehow possessing a love so strong it goes unchanged.

Your decision was made. You’re not sure he’s deserving of your never ending generosity. You’ll give it to him anyway.

He just needs a bit of fear in his heart.

You decide to sneak out before Chucho could wake. You tell Javi that you’ll call him later, that you need time alone. Or maybe away is what you meant. He looked pained and truthfully, you felt just the same. How easy it would have been to drop your pride and climb back into bed. Be safe, know deep in your heart that he would never hurt you, not again. You believe the words he says, you just want to make sure he believes it.

You realize, very rudely, that you aren’t sixteen anymore and this isn’t a summer at the lake. The Christmas morning air was chilly and you were ready to spend the day in your hotel room wondering if this was all a big mistake.

Driving out of the rolling fields and into town, you're forced to take a back road to your hotel because of Laredo’s Light and Lord Christmas Fair. It was your favorite part of Christmas until age thirteen when the fair went from running around with your friends to a day to hang with your boyfriends. It wasn’t like you had many friends outside your brother but the Christmas fair was always an opportunity to just have fun with girls your age. Of course until everyone got boyfriends. You hated on it but you secretly wanted to also walk around cozied up with someone you loved, decorate some cookies and kiss with sugar laced lips.

It doesn’t seem like this Christmas will cut it either. You fish the gold little key from your cup holder and shuffle back out of your car and into your hotel room. Phone rattling on the desk. You frown, thoroughly confused and slightly creeped out by the telephone seemingly going off while you weren’t there. Your hotel rooms a mess from your nerves of seeing your family. Hah, imagine what the place would look like if you were warned about Javi. You don't think too hard and pick up the phone before you can set your purse down.

“Hello?”

“I don’t want to be apart from you.”

Your heart swells and your cheeks heat. You should have known giving him your hotel room extension was a bad idea. He was always like this, a flirt on the phone because you couldn't be there to smack his hand. You shut your eyes and place your hands on your hips like a mom ready to scold. “How many times have you called?”

“Twice, will you come back. It felt like we argued.” He rasps and you consider it for just a moment.

“We didn’t argue.” You say it softly and you can’t understand why. You settle into the desk and begin undressing to just sleep the day away.

He clears his throat, “I guess I’m not used to you being around and willingly deciding to leave my room. It feels like you're punishing me.”

“That’s not what this is. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“I know.” You hear the unspoken, so why can’t we just be together. You know it’s what he’s thinking because when you’re around each other logic runs out the door and all you can conjure up is acting on the intense feeling of love you have for each other. You’ve got to learn to harness it, because look where it got you your whole lives.

“If it makes a difference, I don't want to be doing this.”

“So don’t” It’s quick and biting and his voice is clear as day.

“I just don’t want us to make a crazy decision before working things out. I don’t want…” Your voice dies a bit, it's much easier to say it how it is without seeing his face. “I don’t want us not to work again because we rushed into things and chose not to acknowledge everything between us. I can’t-I can’t- I don’t have it in me.”

I’m tired, I miss you so badly but you were hurt more than me and I want you to recognize it. One day you’ll figure that all I want is for you to be okay.

“Okay.” It’s soft and so him. It’s the tone he has when you're dozing off against his chest, when his palm cradles the back of your head. When he speaks to you like there’s nothing that could ever do you harm. “I’ll stick to the plan. You tell me when to call Lorraine, I’ll do it. Tell me when you want to have dinner. I’ve done harder things in my life.” He chuckles beyond the phone and you follow suit. Missing him and damning your attempt at self control. Unsure what to say next you look around the room because you’re afraid of the silence that comes once you hang up. Soon to be a stark realization that now that you’ve had him again you’ll need him around.

“Well…” You fill the awkward silence with even more awkwardness.

“I have a request for our relationship repair list.”

You smirk, eyes trained to the carpeted ground, It amazes you how white the rug was for a hotel room.”Shoot.”

“Let me call you every night. Good night or a conversation or whatever.”

Cheeks ablaze you feel your tiny smile lines deepen. There's nothing more humbling than smiling at nothing. You were smiling deeply and you hope he can’t hear it in your voice when you say, “Sure.” in an attempt of being aloof and collected. You’d be kicking your feet if you could. Staring at the pink off-shoulder top that will likely be out to no use this trip. You think of sugar kisses. “Come to my hotel at 5. I want to go to the Christmas fair.”

You hear the springs of his bed loud and creaking like he sat up, “Like a date?” A bit too high, he clears his throat.

“No. Like Javi and Andrea hanging out in town. As friends. “ You’re not convinced yourself. “Okay?”

“Okay."

Javier is whipped, to put it lightly. He didn’t really care if it's just two friends hanging out. What a joke. Javier showered fifteen minutes longer than usual, hoping the stains of who he was in Colombia don’t show. Tempted to scrub his skin raw he decides that you’d have him stains and all. He steamed the red button up that had been catching dust at the top of his suitcase, ruffled his hair in the mirror–once–twice–three times. He gets it the way you like. Slightly falling over his forehead and curling at his nape naturally. His hair was swept to the side these days, an attempt to look like he has it together. He knows what you like best. You’ve never commented about it but he remembers the look you used to give him when he let his hair be. He considers putting on his ranch hat, sunglasses but opts the brown belt, jeans and cowboy boots had said enough.

Dr. Hertz is going to kill me, he thinks the moment he looks at himself in the mirror and considers cutting flowers from the yard.

Waiting for the bathroom so he could brush his teeth once more he wonders what gotten into you two last night. He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, so quickly the two of you were reduced to sex crazed animals. He told himself it wasn’t going to be this way, that no matter how good you looked and— you never looked better— no matter what— he’d show you how good he could be first.

But he fucked it all up talking about his hookers and eating your cunt.

Now he’s being forced to show you how good he could be—on your own terms. Which was both terrifying and absolutely exhilarating. You must know how flustered he gets when you take control. He can feel himself crumbling already. Ready to drop to his knees and beg you just to trust his word.

But you were a school teacher, you had to have believed in the tales you told your students. The hare and the tortoise. Slow and steady wins the race. He’ll be at that pace as long as it’s you at the finish line.

Javier told Chucho that he was taking you out to the Holiday festival. He just smiled and went on with his business, which was wrapped in a blanket on his recliner watching a new American Experience episode on Ellis Island. Javier chuckles to himself while retrieving his keys at how content his father was on days like these.

Turning the keys with a jiggle, Javier realizes his fathers truck was pushing on fifteen years old. I should really buy my own car. It struggles like it always did but eventually tracks the gravel onto the road. It was a chillier Christmas, like the weather knew you’d be in town. Give you a real taste of winter. The roads were clear up until main street when Javi realized that maybe taking the road past the festival wasn’t the smartest idea. He’ll blame his newfound discomfort for American roads after years in Colombia.

“Fuck.” He mutters, looking at the window and realizing that all of Laredo would be there. Strangers who knew him, who read about him, who would wonder why he was here. Wondering why he was here with you and not Lorraine. They last saw him as the man who left the golden girl at the altar. The judging stares and whispers would be a guarantee.

But once he approaches the grubby hotel you were at, your blinds open. Perched up on your bed in a pink sweater, eyes glued to a notebook scribbling. Heedful in your own way, like whatever you had to write was very important. Cute little ripple between your brows. In 1986 your hair was dark with a diamond in your nose.

You lighten your hair, stop wearing your nose ring and start wearing rings. Javier feels his chest tighten with every second he’s looked at you since yesterday. It’s like every time you see him you’re trying to remind him that there will never be anyone else.

Javier looks at himself in the rear view like a kid getting ready for his first date, nervous. It seemed that you noticed his headlights through your window because when he looked back up you were opening the door to your hotel. Javier opens the door to receive you. Light pink sweater falling off your shoulder showing him skin that would mean nothing to him if it were anyone else, but it’s you and his urge to step close and kiss that freckled spot. Brown skirt flowing below your knees. He’s ogling you and he doesn’t care, he’s never seen anyone more beautiful. When he looks back up at your face you're doing the same, eyes glued to his hair. Score.

“Hi.” He steps close and grabs your waist and places a chaste kiss on the cheek. Skin soft, you smell good enough to eat. He clears his throat, readjusting his belt as he straightens up and you burn bright red. “You look beautiful.”

Timid eyes flash back to him, “Thank you, you look good too. Like the hair.”

Javier’s lips twitch for a smile but he bites it back. “Let’s head on the road before this car breaks down.”

You snort and cackle, just a week ago who told himself he’d do anything to hear that goofy laugh of yours. One that would ring out in the cafeteria, earned side glances and scoffs from people who were too cool for school. He remembers sitting tables away, Lorraine clung to him and his ears perking up at the sound of your giggle from feet away.

“God I’ve done way too much in that car.” Javier steals a glance at you in the same way you look at him. Kicking your sandals off, pulling over and bouncing in his lap. You both looked at each other and pictured the same distant memory. Your eyes narrow stopping at the door of the truck. “Not. Like that.” Through your teeth yet still teasing , opening the door and hopping in.

He says under his breath, “Yeah sure.”

“God this was a shit idea.” The two of you stood side by side in the middle of mainstreet. Parking lots turned into grounds for dingy rides. Tents set up with rigged games. Crowded at every corner. Children running, laughter and The Ronettes blasting so loud it sparks your nerves. You look up at Javier next to you and he’s already pulling out a cigarette. “Everyone’s here. I swear I just saw Josefina Alto with a baby bump.” You exhale. Javier looks to you from the corner of his eye, lighting his cigarette.

“Who’s that?” He murmurs, stick dangling from his lip.

“Seriously?” You cross your arms, he gives the same dumb stare and shrugs. “The girl you had sex with right before we started dating.” In the bar, trying to forget about me. You might add but chose not to get him in uncharted waters. His brows shoot high, a small play of realization and disgust spreads across his features. His eyes drop to the ground.

“Yeah.” He says it to himself like a child punished. You hadn’t figured that running into people you’d like to avoid is absolutely what will happen tonight. He drags and exhales. Looking ahead at the food stables ahead, decked in green and red. “Fuck it. I see Elote.” He begins to walk and you follow with a giggle. Impossible to stay mad. Tempted to grab his hand but this isn’t what this was. You’re not sure who needs more convincing, you or him. Elote didn’t really read Christmas but any fair was a place for great vendors. You try to catch up with Javier’s steps but fail considering he had a head start and far more comfortable shoes.

“Wait up!” You shout, shivering a bit. Texas really took the New York out of you. Despite the blistering reality of being seen and judged the fair was a beautiful sight. Christmas lights strung between light posts. Storefronts decorated with tinsel and the sounds of laughter from young teens in the artificial snow pit a few feet away.

Javier shook his head and glanced behind at you, “No one told you to wear kitten heels. Ms. Nueva York.” He says in an accent so thick it’s much more “nueva yol” than york.

Eyes rolled, you try to keep up. “I could say the same about the ranchero costume Agente.”

“Haha.” He deadpans. Approaching a crowd of teens in the middle of their way, the line to the swings bleeding into streets of food trucks. Javi stops for you and distracted by the world surrounding you, you walk straight into his back. Nearly falling over Javier swings around and grasps your wrists. Bringing attention to them. Pulling you through the crowd with head nods of hellos and permiso’s. He really was a celebrity to these kids. Eyes wide and shocked at the sight of their hometown hero. Él mató a Escobar! And whispers alike. Wide eyes like he was Princess Di. Glances at you, fortunately they were middle and high school aged children who likely didn’t know what a scandal Javier Peña and Andrea Diaz had been for many years.

You figured your neighbors and church goers would come up with their own stories. It wasn’t until a late night call with Genie that you decided to pry and ask if people had asked about her.

Well, the people at the wedding saw what they saw. They saw you leaving abruptly into the church where Lorraine was. Heard commotion in the chapel and then Javi never showed up. Then people started telling their own stories, seeing you kiss him at the library just a week before, sneaking out to his car or whatever those people stuck their nose at. Everyone just thinks you're the other woman.

And well, you were quite set on not being home for longer than two weeks a year before you found out what was being said. The stomach turning panic you develop each time you're home wasn’t aimless.

Fuck them all, you grip Javier’s hand tighter and he looks back at you as if he’s asking you are you okay? He leads you to the line. The only sound between them is the christmas bells and chatter. Eyes flashing to your conjoined hands you jump out of your own skin and drop his hand. His brows twitch and you know it hurts him. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

“You're a real local hero.”

He grunts, crossing his arms and you notice a slight bulge in the pockets of his denim jacket. “They can add that to the list of rumors.” You scoff, a breeze causing a rise of skin on your collarbone. You move up in line, the vendor's face is familiar but not enough to place a name. He still stares at the two of you a bit longer than your nerves appreciated. “¿Nos puedes dar dos elotes y dos chocolates con licor, por favor?¿Tienes cambio para un billete de cien?”

“Javi.” You tug his sleeve but he waves you off. This was how it used to be, you cursing him while pulling out your wallet and him looking at you feeling so deeply offended that you would dare lift a finger to pay for anything. Suppose Javier Peña was a traditionalist in that way. You know you’d be taken care of your whole life if you decided that was what you wanted. The vendor smiles and heads to prepare your order. Javier turned to you, fixing the cuffs of his sleeves. “I have a job you know.”

His lips flip in a mocking frown with a shrug, “Thanks for the information.”

“Jodón.”

“That’s liquor.” Javier grunts, settling into the picnic table. You sip too, face screwing.

Coughing, “Oh fuck. That shouldn't be allowed.” Javi nods, using a bite of his corn as a chaser. He groans in approval and tilts the cobb toward you. You comply, biting into it, mindful of not looking suggestive.

His stare burns anyway.

You can’t pretend, none of this felt real. It was too easy to fall back in, to laugh, to share food, to bicker, to touch. Could it be this easy? It couldn’t be. Easy wasn’t really Andrea and Javi’s thing. Weighted with anxiety, you bask in his gaze and all of it goes away. You can only think of how it feels to be heard. How it felt to have him with you the day you met your father. How just last night he held you. How you still touched your empty ear lobe when you felt alone. This, this has to work this time. I don’t have it in me to love anything else–anyone else. I’ll forever be plagued by you and all the years we spent apart and the months we spent in love.

Wiping your lips and murmuring a mouthful thank you. You decide to get on track. Stick to the plan. Put it all out there so you could never hurt each other again. Ask him the questions that make him break contact.

And you do the thing you always do, “Is hero so bad of a rumor?”. The thing where something lingers on your mind and you pick up on it minutes maybe hours later like the person next to you sat in the corner of your brain and watched it form. Jaya, your mother, your brother could never catch on. But Javi, fucking Javi, caught on every time. Thrived in your disorganization, familiar with your quirks. There’s no one else for me.

He chews, jaw tightening. He was chiseled by the gods, lord was it unfair to those who came after him. “Rumors are damaging in their own ways. I’d like to forget about Colombia but being called a hero at home keeps me stuck there. Stuck in all the things I didn’t do.” He shrugs, “Now I’m afraid of failing on the basis of expectations I haven’t even set myself.”

I want to know everything, you think, but not here.You didn’t know how to console him, any topic of his time at the DEA made him tense and timid. He would contort into a person unknown. All you can do is ask, “Does it get in the way of your self perception?”

His brows furrow, placing his corn on a paper plate. “Suppose so.” It is short, definitive, like he isn’t ready to elaborate. He reaches for a napkin and blots the corners of his mouth and then yours. Oh, how desperately you wanted to lean your forehead into his chest and stay there. Feel his palm cradle you. Is it so bad? “You?”

Lips pursed, you think for a moment, body facing him entirely. If it were any other day, if the wedding hadn’t happened, he would have had his hands on your knees. But his distance is respectful and he’s being awfully good. “Well the rumors about me arent very positive. Most people view me as some homewrecker that fled when it blew up in my face.”

“People know she lied.”

“I know. That’s why she moved two towns away. Still, narratives were made. That I have always been this side piece that you’ve kept burning for you for almost a decade. Even in high school.” You take a sip and suddenly, the drink isn’t so bad. You almost continue but a child screeches from a table away, his mother wiping his shirt of hot chocolate. “Just feels like I’m being punished for being in love.It was our business and I guess that’s why I don’t like coming here.” Most of it is true. The trauma that you have connected with this town isn’t just because your one true love failed here.

He nods, you can see that he’s taking it all in but tethering on the line of a question. “So why did you ask to come here… with me.” He doesn’t have to say it. You know what he means, why, why in your right mind would you willingly make such a public display despite the gut turning unease being in Laredo gives you. Your brows screw together because your reasoning feels silly, desperate–pathetic even. But Javier never judges you.

“Cus’ I don’t want to feel this way forever. I want to be able to feel at ease in my own home.” Glancing from his red shirt, up the column of his neck and to his eyes. No one has ever been so interested in what you had to say. “And because despite everything you make me feel secure. We could hate each other but if I was forced to face a fear it’s you that I would call first to encourage me.” It’s a confession in itself, it's saying, and I still love you. He knows it because his warm eyes soften in a way that you yearned to see again.

He clears his throat, choked up and he tries to hide it by looking at the string lights above. Attempting to seem interested in anything but you for a few moments, “You’re not alone in that… you know– in feeling that way. Everything that went down with Lorraine created a fear I didn’t know I had– its sadistic– selfish thinking but it was only you who I wanted to be consoled by.” There's pure reluctance in his voice, like he knows that this sounds crazy.

It’s not to you–you thought about it sometimes. I wished I was able to be your friend, be there for you, but I was far too in love just to watch it all happen.

You give him a nod and take another sip. It was warming you up but not in any significant way. The tone of it all took a turn. I guess we’re doing this here.

“Can I tell you something that bothered me.” A bit averse, afraid of sounding like some girl who wants to pick a fight with their ex. You just want answers. “It’s not like– it’s just something that I felt.”

Luckily, Javier knows you aren’t one of those girls. He nods with permission. Looking awfully southern, all he needed was a cowboy hat to tip and you’d be on your way. You exhale, bracing yourself because it was a long one. Probably something he’s never thought about. You start anyway. “In New Orleans we had like our first real fight. Do you remember?” He nods, not saying a word. Looking grumpy as ever, you were too tempted to kiss those pursed lips. Focus. “In the car we had unprotected sex.You came in me, you sort of– well not sort of– you cleaned me after. Then in the hotel room you sort of freaked out on me like I was just waiting to trap you. You told me I should have gotten off of you. It was only after I said I was on birth control that you told me that if I got pregnant that you’d stay but when you were faced with the tiniest chance you put me to blame. I guess it just made the Lorraine thing all the more– I don’t know-sad for me. Because you dropped everything. You never questioned her, but you did so to me. I guess in my own twisted head, hearing all these rumors about me I started to really feel like maybe I was just this place holder until she came home. I know it’s ridiculous. And stupid but I felt like the woman in the bell tower. I guess being alone makes you over analyze a lot of shit. Sorry, I’m being crazy.”

“You’re not being crazy.” It’s whispered and it’s fast, it nearly interrupts you. When you two are together it’s scarily easy to forget all that's around you. The passing glances, the whispers, the sleigh bells, babies crying and carnival buzzers. “I was afraid. I am afraid. I was afraid of altering our lives together because I know that if you got pregnant I would have paused my life for you–that you would have to put a pause on your own life. In my head we live our dreams and then we start our family. I was reckless with Lorraine because I knew no matter the outcome… me and her wouldn’t work. Oil and water. I wanted to do right by you. For a moment I realized I hadn’t really done right by myself. I would have saved myself and everyone around me a lifetime of pain if I just pried. But…”

“We can’t go back there.” You finish.

He shakes his head, distant. “Yeah.” He scratches his jaw. “I'd give anything to go back to seventeen and do it all over.”

Goosebumps rising on your collarbone you hug yourself and lean into the table. The sun was completely gone now, nothing to warm you than his hulking form next to you. Gaze fixating back on the only man you’ve ever loved. “What would you change?”

Javier can’t hide it, he’s like you. His lips twitch and his nostrils flare a bit. He doesn't need to answer, you know. He decides not to answer at all, eyes floating from your own to your neck and down to your shoulder. Clenching his jaw for a split second,he takes out a camera from his jacket pocket and places it on the table.

For a moment you think this is quite the awkward time for pictures but you soon realize this wasn’t that. He begins to remove his denim jacket. He doesn’t struggle, he places it over your shoulders. Warming you once more. Hands hovered and retreated. Like he was fighting the urge to pull you into him. Rub you warm and kiss your temple.

You smile to yourself and sling your arms where they belong. His oversized jacket dangling off your wrists and covering your hand. You were truly surrounded by him, the scent of him settling into you, overwhelming your senses and you get the incessant need to be in bed with him suddenly. Smirking you dig your denim paws into the pockets of his coat, digging for anything he didn't remove.

Jackpot.

You whip out his reds with a smile and he can only with with a sly smirk. You look up at him and wiggle your brows, placing the carton down in front of you. Raising your wrists and shaking the fabric away like you’re getting prepared to eat a mess meal. You pull your sleeves back and pull one lone cigarette out. Placing it between your lips, you stare at the wooden table- perfecting your smolder before looking up at Javi. Lips pursed in a frown, cigarette dangling off your lips, brows furrowed. “Smokin’ all alone querida?” You deepen your voice.

He bursts in a laugh, eyes closing and dimples deep. You don’t break character, flipping your hair out of your face. “Is that what I look like to you?”

Raising your pointer and middle finger in two form, you remove the cigarette from your lips. “Yes. Am I seducing you Andrea?” You ask, wiggling your brows once more.

He leans in close, so close his lips nearly press on the shell of your ear. “What does that say about me if you are?” He rasps, hand spanning against your stomach. Holding you in a way that’s far more suggestive than any grope.

Rolling your eyes, “You weren’t supposed to answer!”

He laughs at how flushed he can make you. How in the cold you look a million degrees warm, tips of your ears fiery. His hold on your stomach bringing you back to being under him, pressing, can you feel me here Andrea?

Straightening up and moving to grab the camera, he struggles to figure out how it works. “Pose for me, give me your Javi face or whatever.”

You grin, sitting up straight and posing. Drowning in his coat, doomed to smile with his cigarette between your lips. He whispers something about being so beautiful before the flash goes off. He smiles to himself, placing the camera back on the table.

“Alright, I know who’s operating that ferris wheel let’s go.”

Hands warmed by disposable cups of your spiked hot cocoa, you lived New York City winters but still the forty degree texas chill caused occasional teeth chatters. Staring up at the ferris wheel decked in Christmas lights you look over at him. Cheeks bitten by the wind, he was already looking over at you. Looking at you in his coat. You two had been playing a little game of 21 questions on line while it moved so so slowly.

“And you? What’s your biggest fear?” You ask finally. What a strange thing this was, learning more about the person you know best. His eyes narrow at you for a moment. Mustache and lips twitching into what seemed to be a ghost of a frown.

He makes this face and blows some low air like he’s about to say something so real yet slightly embarrassing. He clears his throat, “Becoming my mother.” He can’t look at you when he says it because he’s visibly cringing and quickly bringing his hard hot cocoa to his lips.

You blink hard at that. Blowing a raspberry with your lips. “Fuuuuuuuck” You say in an exhale. “I’ll drink to that.” You clink your drink with his while it was at his mouth, quickly taking a sip and catching him off guard. Laughing into his own drink it splashes in his face.

Covering your own mouth, nearly choking on your drink and snorting and giggling so loud the surrounding line stares the two of you down with judging eyes. Javier wipes his mustache that drips. Like always, the two of you laugh without regard of whos watching.

Javier eventually slips the operator a smile and four dollars and you are loading the rickety piece of metal. Securing the holster until it clicks. Giddy, you lean your head into his shoulder quickly—feeling a surge of happiness before straightening up.

“Happy?” Brow raised.

You shrug, “Just missed you is all.” The stomach pitting rocking began as your cart lifted higher and higher in the air. Donny Hathaway’s “This Christmas” bleeds out the ride's low quality speakers.

He hummed. Reaching an experimental hand out onto your lap, palm up. Lustful nights turned to innocent actions the next. Something in you heals. No cares, refusal to conform to what you should do according to everyone else. Run, two damaged goods are just as useless as one. You intertwine your hand with his. Pads of your fingertips pressed against his knuckles.

Christmases spent stressed, the ones she spent alone. You decide this once you won’t rip herself from this illusion. God, you hope it wasn’t an illusion.

He stares intently at where you connect. Those hands of his that have done wrong to many, still dwarfs yours.

“Andrea.” It’s featherlight. Not in need of a response. “Stay at my house. I don’t like the idea of you at that place— when your home is here—with us—with me and my dad.”

You think of your plan. You think of how lonely it felt to be stuck in an outdated inn, watching M*A*S*H with only the sound of your breathing and the running air conditioning. His house was your home.

“Alright. But I’m sleeping on the cot.” The uncomfortable little mattress that stood up at the basement of the Peña Ranch. Thrown on the floor with quilts whenever your brother would crash.

“I’ll sleep on the cot.”

“No that’s unfair it’s your bed.”

“You’re my guest.”

“I thought that it was my home? I’ll take the cot.” The ride jolts at the top of wheel. A view of the entire town, if you squint, you see the hills that lead to the rolling land where he lives. Homes glowing in various colors, the town that brings you pain, burns so beautifully for the two of you.

“Fine. You take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“I want you in the room with me.” You rush, burning bright at your display of desperation. Javier chuckled, squeezing your hand.

“I’ll leave when you fall asleep.”

“Or we can share the bed.” He suggests, slowly and mischievously, you both smirk at each other. Flashes of you pawing at his hair while he holds you still, making you feel all that you’ve missed. He gives a toothy grin, “Yeah… better not.”

#fic!rlw #javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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secriden · 1 month ago

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ok so the beerwan dynamic is SO intriguing!! we're finally getting some solid insight into what's going on between them and its fascinating.

first of all, it appears that beer's feelings for wan is an open secret!? like... i mean its pretty clear to the audience, but the way god brings it up, it's not just known, but also well acknowledged.

this says that beer's been aware of his feelings for a while, has had time to process them - not just alone but with his good friend(s? not sure if bew was part of this conversation) - and has made a conscious decision to not push for anything more with wan.

i don't think i've ever seen this before? either you get both parties wrestling with new feelings for each other OR you have established relationship where both already know they are into each other. but what we have with beerwan is a very lopsided emotional dynamic where beer has thoroughly accepted his feelings while wan appears to be completely unaware of them or his own potential attraction in return.

it makes for such an interesting development because whenever something happens where sexual tension is created, all the uncertainty is solely on wan's side.

ole (beer's actor) does a really good job i think of subtly conveying this. there's something settled and accepting in the way he holds himself so precisely in place. like he won't move forward but he doesn't move back and it's just peak tension in a very different way as he stays precisely in place because he wants (he wants he wants) to kiss wan, but he won't let himself move forward and take it. there's something sweetly sad about how much he clearly yearns for more but how he won't let it happen unless wan initiates it.

and don't think it's because beer thinks his feelings would be unrequited, because surely that would've been addressed with the conversation with god. But the way god was encouraging him to be clear, it feels like there's some other reason (something in wan's past?) which is holding beer back.

it adds depth somehow to their interactions, because beer is so... quietly resigned that he loves wan and so even when wan is being ridiculous and honestly kind of a pain, he just gives in and accommodates him.

it gives them the emotional energy of an old married couple who have been together for so long that they've learned how to work around their partner's specific quirks -- but juxtaposed with the peak sexual energy of teenagers who've never gotten the privacy to be alone with each other before and desperately want to fuck (or at least beer is aware of it; i think wan's just... confused).

and meanwhile this lady is all of us:

baby boy its okay, you'll figure it out eventually.

#monster next door #monster next door the series #beerwan #beer x wan #have i mentioned i love beer??? because i really really love beer!!#he's such a gentle and mature presence in this story #like the way he just... carries himself has this 'older than my age' air to it #and it works so well in the dynamic of the rest of the cast #but specifically with wan in how he cares for him #its so pointed and intentional and addresses wan specifically #like in a very understated way you get the sense that wan is the centre of beers world but in an undemanding way that isn't offputting #rambles about shows i'm watching #the problem with tagging thai characters is that they're all just... words #like sky and beer and game have very specific other meanings #someone innocently looking for pictures of pretty sunsets and then suddenly there's a post waxing lyrical about two thai boys barebacking #<my posts>

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 10 months ago

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Steve harrington x reader

Steve won the poll last time so this is a Steve fic :) ❤️

Part one

You and Steve grow closer after he saved you from the monstrous bats, you begin to spend the night with him, no sex just comfort.

It doesn't take long for feelings to deepen between the two of you.

18+ minors go away.

❤️

The first night once Eddie left was horrendous, you were exhausted and hurting all over. After taking some pain meds you still couldn't sleep.

Every position hurt like a bitch, when you closed your eyes all you saw was those vicious bats, heard that shriek that would haunt you for months on end.

You could have died. If Steve hadn't turned up you would have and that thought has anxiety choking you, clawing at your throat and making it hard to breathe.

This continues the next night as well which leaves you and into the next. By the time it's Monday you're cranky, sleep deprived and in no mood for Eddie's continued annoyance at your moment with Steve.

"For goodness sake Eddie, would you cut this shit out. He saved my life, he's a good guy. Just drop it" Eddie quietens but still drums his fingers on the table, a habit of his when he's annoyed.

"Wow, someone is bitchy today" Stacy snipes and Eddie glares at her exasperated. Dustin said they had some kind of argument on Friday but you don't know about what, honestly you're sick of the drama from her.

"Sorry of lack of sleep from nearly being bat chow and finding a dead body is making me a little out of sorts" usually you ignore her itchiness but you aren't putting up with it today.

By the end of the day you're eager just to get home, have a shower and head to bed and attempt to relax, you're head is pounding and the wounds are still hurting from time to time.

You can't head home though because Hellfire has an extra meeting today and it's past five before it finishes. You're suprised to see Steve but remember he will be picking up Dustin, Lucas and Mike.

He walks over to you looking concerned, gently touching your shoulder.

"You okay? How are your wounds healing?" the way he cares about you, even though he barely knows you makes you feel all warm and happy.

"I'm okay, they still hurt but they are healing, are you okay?" he nods and shrugs like it's no big deal.

"I've had worse, it's the nightmares... He shudders, it's better now than it used to be but they can come back out of nowhere" you definitely can sympathise with him and find yourself telling him about your own nightmares.

As you do his frown grows increasingly and he runs his hand through his perfectly styled hair, he opens his mouth then pauses before speaking.

"If you want you could come to mine, my parents are never around and it gets lonely. We could watch movies, just hang out for a while. I don't want you to be alone in this sweetheart" you brighten at this and nod.

"I'd like that"

❤️

It was like a weight had been lifted of you when you were with Steve. Mostly you just talked and set up a den of sorts in his lounge. Blankets, snacks and movies.

Robin joins you and Steve for a little while and watching their affection for each other fills your heart with joy. You're pretty sure they are platonic soulmates or something.

You find yourself opening up more to Steve about your complicated feelings for Eddie, he confides in you about Nancy and it feels good to get a lot of things of your chest, things you could never say to Eddie in fear of ruining your friendship.

"The burden of unrequited love. Shit, we're hopeless aren't we" Steve jokes and you snort, you really were.

When you head upstairs with Steve to his room you're struck by how bare his room is, there's not many personal touches at all. It hurts your heart that his parents don't seem to care about him one bit, only sending home the latest fashion and pushing Steve to be like them.

He could never be like that, he was too warm, full of love. You're just getting to know him and you can see that, plus Dustin, Lucas and Mike worship him.

"Uh, I can sleep on the floor, you take the bed" Steve offers. As he makes up a bed on the floor you tug his hand gently.

"There's plenty of room, can you sleep beside me just for tonight" The minute you look at Steve with a pleading puppy eyed gaze he's putty in your hands.

"Sure" he slips in beside you and you just talk for a little bit, talk until you're both struggling to stay awake and Steve's voice is thick with sleep.

Your eyes grow heavier and you fall asleep, to your surprise it's peaceful and when you wake in the morning nightmare free you feel so full of relief.

Steve's arm is slung around your waist and pulling you close to him. It feels nice, really nice and you're happy to fall back into a deep slumber.

❤️

You don't know when it was suddenly decided that you would spend every night at Steve's. At first it was because Steve's parents were never around, he was lonely and craved company, while you craved comfort and you helped each other.

It's so you both didn't feel so alone in dealing with all this monsters and shit that were in Hawkins. There was no way those bats weren't from some sort of hell dimension, they weren't normal that was for sure.

When you were around Steve the nightmares weren't so vivid and frightening, you'd wake up beside Steve and his arms would instinctively wrap around you, holding you close and whispering that you were okay.

One time you sleep so well with Steve, that you wake up late for classes and you're in a rush to get to school.

Steve drives you and Robin, who woke the two of you up, the little smile she had on her face, seeing you and Steve entwined leaves no doubt she will be grilling Steve about it.

Steve who look pink cheeked and didn't notice, when you stole one of his grey hoodies to wear because it was freezing outside.

He's not the only one who notices, Eddie was curious why you were late and at lunch Dustin looks at you wide eyed and points to the hoodie. ''Hey, that's Steve's"

The whole of Hellfire turn to look at you with varying expressions. Jeff and Gareth uses it as ammo to tease the shit out of you, Eddie is stunned and the rest are more interested in the campaign to care.

"Wait so you're dating Steve now?" Mike asks confused and you shake your head, though the thought of dating Steve gives you butterflies, which you ignore. No way are you entertaining what that means.

So yeah Robin knows, and now Dustin and the rest of Hellfire are aware that you and Steve are close.

"So you sleep together but not actually together?" Eddie asks looking confused and a little suspicious when you explain that you're spending the night at Steve's again.

"I can't explain it Eddie, it's just really nice and comforting, he's turning into a great friend" you say and Eddie grumbles and slams his locker shut.

"You have me, you can confide in me. We used to have sleepovers and shit all the time" he points out and you stifle a smile.

"Eddie we were kids then and besides you have a girlfriend who wouldn't he happy with that" he sighs and shakes his head, the look in his eyes concerns you. Did something happen with Stacy?

"We broke up, she was just too jealous and possessive. Last I heard she's dating some dude from the swim team now. Anyway, can we get back to you and Harrington"

You sigh and know that no matter what you say it's just going to cause him to be annoyed because he can't see that Steve is a decent dude.

He gets distracted by Gareth asking questions about the campaign but his reaction to Steve and news about his break up with Stacy is in your head all day, strangely it doesn't fill you with the happiness you thought it would.

Steve comments on your head being in the clouds later that night while he's making dinner and you shrug apologetically and let him know what's happened.

"Eddie broke up with Stacy" he stops chopping vegetables and his stance is suddenly tense, his jaw clenched.

"Oh, yeah? I guess that makes you happy, I mean maybe the two of you might end up together" his voice turns quiet and you want to know why he's suddenly went so... well moody judging by the way he's acting.

"I thought that's what I wanted but now I'm not so sure" Steve turns to face you and he looks less tense this time.

"Thought Munson was your dream guy?" he teases and you really don't know what that is anymore. So when the image of Steve as that guy enters your mind it throws you for a loop.

Well fuck.

A few days later you lay beside Steve, very sleepy and keen to ignore the beeping of his alarm. Steve is awake and absentmindedly tracing your arm with his thumb.

He looks lost in thought and you gently nudge him wondering what's going on in his head.

"Are your scars healing well?" you nod and narrow your eyes at him, you know very well he will look after everyone else first and himself last.

"Are yours?" he nods and you pin him with your best stern gaze that makes him laugh.

"Yes. I promise sweetheart. Shit, Nance gave me a telling off last time when I didn't" this makes you bite back a laugh but you know Nancy takes no prisoners so Steve will have been well and truly chastised.

He tugs off his shirt to show you and you pause as you remember the last time you and Steve were like this. That kiss...

The kiss that was so chaste and lasted only a few seconds but made you eager for more, kinda punch drunk and giddy whenever you remember it.

You focus on his wound thats completely healed and left only a tiny scar. Ever so gently you trace over it and your heart beats faster when you hear Steve exhale, then you kiss the scar tenderly, a soft sweet kiss.

"All better" you murmur and scarper out of bed when you hear Robin downstairs. Pink blooms up Steve's cheek and there's an ache inside you that wants nothing more than to bridge the distance between you and Steve, kiss him again.

You really were screwed.

❤️

Steve had a date. The words ring in your ears and you try to hide your reaction from Robin but from the way she's staring at you, it's obvious she knows something.

You had shower up at Family Video eager to see Steve and discuss plans for tonight, maybe Robin could stay over and the three of you could make a night of it?

However when you bring this up to Steve he suddenly went really quiet and a strange pit filled your stomach.

"Uh, I can't tonight honey. I have a date, you know the blonde who comes in here every Thursday for 60's movies, well she asked me out"

The pit in your stomach intensifies and you nod feeling incredibly foolish.

"I can cancel, I mean if you think there's a reason why I shouldn't go" he says to you and you shake your head. No, you can't be selfish and want to have him all to yourself. Maybe he really liked this girl and she could make him happy.

"Don't be silly. Go and have fun. Don't worry about me" you force a smile onto your face, you wouldn't ruin his opportunity for happiness just so he could comfort you. You needed to deal with this yourself.

Was it just your imagination or did he look disappointed when you said that?

Before you can figure out why that is, the girl comes in and she's gorgeous. Tall, blonde and bubbly with killer blue eyes. There's a full ache in your heart as you greet her and find out she's called Emily and works at the arcades.

Quietly you slip out and leave Steve and Emily to bond. All the way home you feel sick to your stomach, the realisation that you've fallen hard for Steve sinks in.

And he doesn't feel the same way.

❤️

It's getting pretty late once you finish watching one of the films you've rented. Its past midnight and you're eyes grow heavy sleep beckoning.

The doorbell rings and you jump, it's unexpected and you never have visitors at this time.

When you find Steve waiting outside you're definitely surprised.

"Steve? How was your date?" he shakes his head and you worry that it hasn't went well.

"What happened?" you motion for him to come inside and he shrugs off his jacket, then turns to you his smile tender, his soft gaze makes your heart skip a beat.

"She was great, she's sweet, pretty" of course she was perfect. Perfect for Steve, you smile brightly even if you don't feel so chirpy.

"That's great Steve" his hazel eyes capture yours and he shrugs, the intensity in his gaze is making you feel all fuzzy.

"Really? Doesn't feel that great, I should be happy but I wasn't because all I can think about is you"

Hope blooms as you take in his words and move closer to him. His knuckles graze gently across your cheek, you lean into his touch and he looks at you with complete adoration.

"You're amazing, you're beautiful and kind, I can't stop thinking about you" He pulls your closer to him and kisses you, elated you kiss him back and run your hands through his hair.

Soft moans issue from your throat and he pulls back smiling, then presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"You wanna be my girl?" he asks you and there's a shyness in his tone which is very endearing.

"I'd love to Steve"

Fin 💕

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you

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pedgito · 2 years ago

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𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 — 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: growing up together was hard enough, it didn’t help that you were hopelessly trapped by both of them, wondering which one would win you over in the end—because honestly, why couldn’t you have both?

cw: 18+ (minors dni), munson twins, eddie’s brother is nameless (up to your own interpretation), virgin!eddie, his brother is a whore (and proud about it), unrequited crushes/pining, degradation toward reader (slight, just a couple insults), protected/unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, this smut is literally polar opposite and purely self indulgence, a little manhandling on his brother’s part, eddie’s a natural blonde don’t attack me it’s my own person headcanon. if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 8.3k

Eddie had been a large part of your life, through childhood and then on, your friendship only strengthening into high school and when Eddie got held back, it made things easier somehow, despite how much it affected things for Eddie in the long run, he still tried to make the most of it—even if his twin brother made his life a living hell on a daily basis.

His brother wasn’t too bright either, as much as he tried. Eddie has trouble focusing and understanding, processing things slower than normal students—he had the capability, but Eddie needed the extra love and attention that no one wanted to show him. His brother on the other hand, it had to be lack of caring—if it weren’t for Eddie being so adamant about graduating he would’ve dropped out and settled for a GED and put all the stupid high school shit to rest. But the truth is, they did everything together—if Eddie wanted to tough it out, so was he.

There was a brief interim in your childhood when Eddie and his brother had come to live with you when their mother died and their dad disappeared soon after, but eventually they settled into the trailer with Wayne, their uncle, who was one of the sweetest men you’d had the opportunity to know.

It was a mystery how he put up with the Munson twins, because even you couldn’t handle it some days.

“You could just kick him out,” You suggest to Eddie, chair shoved as close as possible beside his, knees touching as you rested your feet on the edge of table, “I don’t think any of us would miss him.”

“And listen to him bitch for the rest of the year?” Eddie asks redundantly, “No fucking thank you.”

“He doesn’t even like Dungeons and Dragons.” You point out, not that Eddie wasn’t already aware, “It’s painful having to watch him play—like, claw your eyes out painful.”

“He says it helps with the ladies,” Eddie complains with a full eye roll, tossing the pencil he’d been twirling between his fingers on the table, “—like we’re a fetish or some shit.”

You laugh to yourself. It wasn’t that far-fetched, but his counterpart was a lot more liked than him. Eddie had his small group of friends within Hellfire Club and you, it was all he really needed. You couldn’t say the same for the carbon copy sitting across from you, his face scrunching up in the same way Eddie’s does when he’s concentrating—if it weren’t for his short cropped hair they’d be impossible to tell apart look-wise. Their personalities however couldn’t be more different.

“I think it’s him that’s fetishizing us.” You tell Eddie, catching his brother’s heated gaze across the room, a disgusting smirk gracing his face. “Not who he’s hooking up with.”

“I’m not talking to him,” Eddie shakes his head adamantly, “I live with the dumbass, that’s already painful enough.”

“You’re such a baby,” You tease Eddie, punching gently at his thigh, “—What, do you want me to talk to him?”

Eddie shrugs, but his answer is clear in his face, unable to meet your stare.

“Eddie, he hates me.” You remind him, eyes squinting in annoyance as you look up toward his brother, gaze still as intense as ever and you’re not sure he’s looked away at all in the past few minutes, like he can hear the conversation you’re having, smug look on his face as he raises his hand to flip you off playfully. You force a tight smile, returning the gesture.

“Scratch that—I think it’s just me that really hates him.”

“Understandable.” Eddie chirps quietly, but it doesn’t change his unspoken plea.

“Fuck, fine.” You sigh when Eddie’s pout refuses to fade, shoving your bag at him. “Wait for me in the van, crybaby.”

Eddie grins slightly, hugging the bag tight. He knew which angles of you to work, read you like a book, and you fell for it every goddamn time.

Eddie’s brother senses your approach before you can even make yourself known, turning on you in his chair with the same annoying grin he had earlier.

“Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t care.” You tell him firstly, holding your hand out to stop him, “Eddie wants you out.”

He ruffles a hand through his curls cooly, his hair fighting against the mountain of product he had in it—most of it was for show, shaping his hair away from his face to show off his features. He knew he was attractive, you knew it—it wasn’t lost on anyone. But, you’ve seen him outside of school on his worst days, just as less put together as Eddie was on most days. The difference was that Eddie wasn’t worried about everyone’s perception—his brother stressed over it everyday, even if he didn’t show it.

“Eddie,” He says slowly, like he’s testing the word out, “my own brother?”

“Well Eddie, and me, and every other person here.” You tell him admittedly, watching his grin grow wider. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He chuckles slightly, rolling the unsmoked joint in his fingers, your eyes widening at the sight of it. “I’m listening to you talk—isn’t that what you want?”

“You’re fucking insane,” You scold, snatching the joint from his hand, holding it up, “Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

“It’s my weed, sweetheart.”

“In our club room, that we manage as a group—the last thing we need is you getting caught with drugs on campus.”

He snatches the joint back with ease, stuffing it into his jacks pocket. Your arms cross over your chest defiantly, frustration growing.

“Look—wear the fucking shirt or don’t, but stop showing up to meetings and campaigns, for the love of god—“

“What?” He asks teasingly, “Am I really that difficult to be around?”

“Yes.” You answer quickly, causing his face to fall slightly.

“Whatever.” He shrugs off, leaning forward to stand, towering above you slightly. “Figures my brother’s too much of a pussy to just tell me, he’s gotta send his little bitch to do his bidding—“

You make a loud ‘pfft’ in response, quickly reaching forward to snatch the joint from his pocket, holding it on display between your fingers.

“Good, because this little bitch is taking this as payment for thinking you can get away with calling me anything other than my name.”

He’s speechless for once, not even attempting to pull the joint away. You smile kindly, shoving the joint into your own pocket and turning on your heels.

“See you tonight,” You sing patronizingly over your shoulder, knowing he’d pop up at the trailer at some point, “maybe Eddie and I will save you some if there’s any left.”

You’re gone before he can respond, approaching Eddie in the parking lot a few short minutes later, passing the joint into his hands.

“What the fuck?” Eddie asks out of confusion, “Where did you get this?”

“Seems like he went digging into your stash,” You smile in amusement, “since Rick won’t sell to him.”

“Yeah, because he’d kill the product before he even had a chance to sell it, not that he has any capability for that.”

“Oh, burn.” You comment, holding Eddie’s hand up in front of his face, joint still tight between his thumb and forefinger. “As a celebration for successfully booting your brother out of Hellfire, we can smoke it in his honor.”

“Since when do you smoke?” Eddie asks with a soft laugh, pulling his hand away from your grip, eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at you.

“It’s a special occasion,” You shrug, “besides, your brother really stresses me out.”

Eddie snorts at your obvious qualms, hands extending fancifully toward his trusty van, the only constant in his life besides you and and his brother.

“Well, it’s not going to smoke itself, so…” Eddie adds, watching as you quickly skittered around the passenger side, hoping in with a grin that spread across your entire face.

“I do think I hurt his feelings though,” You tell Eddie, the image flashing in your head again, “you two have a really pitiful sad face—“

Eddie frowns at that, mostly as a joke, but you jab your finger in his direction to prove a point.

“You look like sad little puppies, it’s infuriating.” You complain, shoving his face away gently as he started the ignition.

“Add it to the list, sweetheart,”

“Where is he anyways?” You ask curiously, joint held between your lips as you inhaled, tip burning a bright, amber red before you’re passing it back to Eddie carefully.

“Well, it’s Friday so—probably a date.” Eddie shrugs, taking a couple slow drags himself, laid flat on his back as he stares up at the ceiling. You glance over at the other empty bed shoved in the corner of the room. “Or in some girl's bed.”

You weren’t sure how they made it work, both of them living in such a small space—but if they could share a womb together, they could make anything work. Plus, they weren’t exactly swimming in cash. Wayne was still working overtime at the plant and Eddie was stowing away what he could from his drug sales—as for his brother, it was a mystery.

“You know, I’d take it as a compliment.” You can see the hard line of worry on his face, lost in his own thoughts. “He tries to act so much like you.”

“Yeah, but he parades it around like it’s a character.” Eddie replies, passing the joint over. You slip it between your lips, falling to your stomach beside him until your faces are nearly parallel to each other. “And it doesn’t help that half the school thinks I’m a fuckin’ freak while everyone is eating that shit up when he does it.”

You pull the joint from your own lips and slip it between his wordlessly, his eyes falling shut as he grabs for it, fingers grazing your own. His touch was nothing but comfort anymore—it didn’t surprise Wayne the first time he caught you two cuddled on the couch with your hands wrapped around each other, having fallen asleep halfway through a movie.

Besides, Eddie knows nothing will ever come of it.

“I see right through it.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you know him. You know us. He can’t pull that shit here, that’s why he acts the way he does at school.”

“He’s an attention whore.” You say, only half-joking.

Eddie laughs to himself, finishing off the last of the joint before stubbing it out, “Since the day he was born.”

You tilt your head slightly in question, wondering where he was taking the conversation.

“Born first, walked first, it never fails. Do you remember when I first came to live with you back in elementary?”

You make a skeptical face, nose scrunching up in amusement.

“Yeah, of course.”

“You kept confusing us, back before I grew my hair out long. I stopped trying to correct you after a while, but for a week when you thought you were talking to me, it was actually just him.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, disgust crossing your face.

“And you kept that to yourself for this long?” You ask.

“It’s just proof of how easily he can portray himself as me and get away with it. I’m always last to everything—and girls run the other direction when they see me.”

You’ve seen it firsthand, the grimace and turn to sneak away somewhere else, the blatant way people ignore Eddie even when he’s just trying to be friendly—despite it all, he still keeps a smile on his face, no matter how much it bothers him.

“I don’t,” You say pointedly, grabbing at the hand resting against his stomach to twist the jewelry adorning each finger, pressing the palm against your cheek to offer a warm smile, “I’m always here.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Eddie says, pulling his hand away gently to stuff it behind his head. “You’re different.”

You pull away slightly, a little dejected.

“No—shit, I don’t mean it like that.” Eddie quickly clears up, “I just—we don’t look at each other that way, right?”

“Are you asking me that? Or yourself?” You counter, knowing full well where this conversation could take you, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Don’t say that.” Eddie brow furrows in frustration, mouth downturned slightly. It wasn’t quite a frown, but a face of fear, unknowingness.

“Eddie, seriously.” You tell him monotone—no jokes, no stupid attempts to make him feel better. “Ask yourself that.”

“You always talk about how much my brother disgusts you.” Eddie defends weakly. “Doesn’t that kinda translate over or something, since we’re twins?”

“His personality disgusts me, yes.” You clarify, “But I’d be blind to not find you two attractive—I don’t think I’ve ever tried to hide that. I call you cute all the time.”

“Yeah, but—cute as in like “oh, cute”, that’s different.” Eddie tells you like he’s got it all figured out. But, he’s so stubbornly stuck in his own ways that he doesn’t even realize what you’re trying to hint at.

“Eddie.” You say his name with a little more urgency, face protesting a vulnerability that only felt safe with him. “You’re hot, is that what you want me to say?”

Eddie’s face turns a beet red, traveling up to the tips of his ears. He can’t form a single word in the English language without making a complete fool of himself, so he stays quiet.

“Dude, I will deflower you—if that’s what you want.” You tell him, skipping past the nuisance of hoping he’d catch on.

“I’m not a flower.” Eddie pouts, reminding you exactly what you liked him so much.

“God, Eddie—I want to have sex with you.”

Eddie sits up slightly, eyeing you carefully—it’s like he’s taking you in under a new light, “Won’t that make things weird?”

“Not unless you want it to.” You shrug, mimicking his actions and raising to your knees. “Casual sex is fun, you know?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Eddie reminds you softly, eyes wandering toward his lap aimlessly.

“Do you want to?”

Eddie eyes you hesitantly, scared that this might ruin everything. There was never a doubt in your mind that it would, but Eddie’s a constant worrier and you can see it bothering him already. You smile comfortingly, holding up your pinky to him.

“Only if you want to, Eddie.” You explain, eyes soft as you look at him, his own features softening in response, “It changes nothing, I promise.”

Eddie smiles slightly, reaching his pinky up to wrap around your own, signifying just how fast everything was about to change.

The giggles set in soon after, fumbling through the slow drag of clothes as you pull Eddie’s shirt over his head, his worn mattress creaking as you moved around to stand, pulling him up by his jeans and fumbling with his belt before shoving him back down, following as you fell to your knees on the floor between his spread legs.

“Oh! No, that’s—“ Eddie interjects quickly, hands held out midair and unsure of where to land, “we can skip to the good part if that’s easier.”

“You’ve never had your dick sucked before have you?” You ask, unzipping his pants in the same action, his chest heaving sharply as he took a breath. “That is the fun part—sex is fun but so is everything else.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like—“

“Eddie,” You pause, waiting for him to make eye contact with you, “I’m saying this was all the love I have for you—shut up.”

Eddie laughs weakly, “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

“Here, hips up—“ Eddie obeys, lifting his hips high enough for you to yank them down to his knees and off his legs, leaving him naked aside from his underwear, dick already tenting his boxers despite having not touched or even kissed you.

It’s endearing actually, teeth digging into your bottom lip as your finger pulls at his boxers testingly, waiting for him to give you the go ahead. He nods, face pinched together in concentration as you pull the piece of clothing away, eyes turned toward the ceiling in an attempt to calm himself.

Well, that and if he looks at you with his dick in your mouth he knows it won’t last long.

And admittedly, you didn’t have any expections—knowing Eddie for so long took out the intial awkwardness you would usually feel with sexual partners.

“Last chance to back out.” You joke, Eddie’s laugh getting caught in his throat.

“No—no, I’m good.” Eddie nods.

The first touch is careful, taking his cock in your hands gently, watching the hard ridge of his neck as swallows, eyes carefully calculated toward the ceiling. You’ve never really cared much for size or looks, dicks weren’t really there for show, but Eddie’s easily takes the cake. He’s perfect, girthy, and just the right length to not immediately scare you at the idea of taking him inside you—which is a very real fear in your case, your tongue swiping against the flushed tip teasingly, and Eddie releases a shaky breath.

“You okay?” You ask curiously, his hands white knuckling his sheets. They lessen slightly at your words, nodding his head silently.

It’s enough confirmation for you, taking half the length of him in your mouth in one go, tongue flattening against the bottom as back up, gathering a small bit of saliva to spit out over the head. The noise is enough to have him choking on air, his breath coming out in soft pants.

“Eddie,” You say melodically, eyes peering up at him as your tongue stretched across the underside of his shaft. Eddie looks down shyly, landing on you immediately, “you can look, I don’t care.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Eddie admits, “I don’t think I can, not if I want this to last.”

You shrug coolly, “Just tell me to stop if it gets too much or too close.”

You blame the boldness in your calmed nerves, laughing softly as you took him in your mouth again, his eyebrows melting into one as he groaned, plush lips parting slightly.

“Fuck, that’s—“ Eddie sighs, “holy shit.”

You giggle to yourself, leaning down to roll your tongue around the tight sack of his balls, pulling just the sound you expect out of him—a strangled gasp at the unexpected action, murmuring a soft, “You can’t—you can’t do that.”

“Too much?”

Eddie nods weakly, his hand hovering on his knee, wanting to touch but not knowing if he should. You do the work for him, burying his fingers around the curve of your head, squeezing until he grips a small portion of your hair.

“You lead, okay?” You instruct. Eddie offers a quiet acknowledgement, watching as you close your lips around the head of his cock, the pressure of his hand featherlight as he motioned you down, stammering out words that you couldn’t make out until he finds a manageable rhythm—it’s slow, but it works. Eventually you find yourself growing bored, pushing a little further than he’s expecting as he tips the back of your throat. He tugs at your hair involuntarily, shoving you deeper until you’re gagging around him, pulling away with rugged gasp.

“Shit, sorry.” Eddie quickly apologizes, pulling away as you caught your breath, eyes watering from the sudden intrusion.

You shake your head, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. “It’s okay—I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

Eddie laughs in disbelief, resting back on the palms of his hands, feeling more comfortable with himself than earlier.

“Can I—“ The words linger, his eyes traveling to the jeans still on your body, “I’ve never—I mean I’m probably really bad but I wanna try.”

“Sure.” You answer with a giddy nod, it was often that men offered and you weren’t about to turn down the opportunity, even if it took a little coaching.

Eddie switches positions, waiting until you’re laid out underneath him to pull at your pants, catching onto the hem of your underwear and yanking them off in one go, tugging at where they get caught around your ankles. Eddie laughs, the clothes flying out of his hands comically at how roughly he tugs.

When he’s finally settled his eyes wander up towards yours curiously, waiting for instructions—he knows that you know how clueless he is and he’s accepting how embarrassing it may be. But, he’s a pleaser and eager as ever.

“There’s not much to it,” You tell him, “—here, let me see your hand.”

He’s not completely inept, his fingers spreading through your folds without being told, his middle finger dragging down the seam toward your entrance, barely breaching.

You giggle slightly, chest shaking at the motion, “Up here,” You tell him, dragging his finger up toward the small bundle of nerves, “that’s where it feels the best.”

His finger rubs experimentally at the sensitive nub, the nod you give in response is enough to lead him down the right path, he licks at his fingers instinctively to wet them before pressing them back against your clit—it’s enough to make your body run hot, knowing that he doesn’t even realize what he just did.

“Huh—okay, so basically just do the same thing with your tongue and you can use your fingers too—,” Eddie slips a finger inside of you gradually, a vivacious grin on his face as he eases inside, “yeah, that.”

He urges your legs over his shoulders until he can get a decent grip with one hand, palm wrapping around the top of your thigh to spread your legs open wider, his mouth settling against your cunt, hot breath trapped between your legs as pressed the flat of his tongue against you, dragging it up toward your clit and down again, his finger moving slowly inside of you until he’s knuckle deep, failing to separate his brain into two places as he gets a little too enthusiastic, lips closing around your clit as he flicks his tongue teasingly until it’s nearly unbearable.

“Shit, shit—okay.” You tap at his shoulder gently, “That’s good—just, slower.”

And despite how hard it is for Eddie to focus, he’s still a great listener. He does slow down, attempting to focus on pairing the two together before forgoing his fingers completely, hands wrapped around both your thighs to give his mouth full focus, squeezing at the tender part of your skin with every noise you make, a soft whine leaving your mouth as he flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit, his eyes connected with you briefly—he looks ridiculous, given the circumstances.

Eyes strained red from the weed and half-lidded slightly, feeling triumphant in the way you moan openly at his actions, fingers dragging into his bangs and pulling them back, guiding his face in a subtle motion against your cunt, directing him at the speed you’re searching for and he rolls with it easily, his hips rutting against the sheets absentmindedly.

It isn’t unnoticed to you though, the soft curve of his ass on display as he planned to ruin his sheets further—truthfully, you can’t stand to see it happen.

You push him away gently, his mouth shining with slick wetness as he peers up at you through a haze of lust and being absolutely blazed out of his mind.

“Condoms?” You ask, “You have some, right?”

“Well, no. Obviously.” Eddie answers truthfully, causing you to sigh in response, falling against the bed in defeat, “Wait—actually…”

He leaves the bed briefly, traveling over to his brother’s side to yank open a door, rummaging through it messily. It takes a minute, but he eventually finds a small foil square stuffed in the back, holding it up between his fingers.

“Last one.” Eddie smiles, “Lucky us, I guess.”

“An even bigger fuck you now that he has to buy more.” You comment snidely, watching as Eddie fumbled with the package. “Do you need help?”

“I’m not that clueless, sweetheart.” Eddie says defensively, though his voice is just as endearing. He does get the package open eventually, slipping the condom on with ease—he’s practiced a few times, but it wasn’t something he needed to admit to.

“Do you want to—like this?” You ask him, watching as he positioned himself between your legs, feeling a little uncertain.

“Uh—“ Eddie blanks, searching your eyes briefly, “Maybe you could get on top?”

You grin, nodding eagerly. Eddie surprises you with a hand wrapping around your waist, an unnecessary shoe of strength as he heaves you onto his lap, hips hovering as you reposition yourself. He’s got a firm hand around his shaft, eyes narrowed in concentration as your fingers wrap around his own wrist, guiding him toward your entrance.

It’s slow, gradual, but an instant breath of relief as he sinks inside you, mouth parting with every inch that you took until he’s fully bottomed out and buried inside you to the hilt.

Eddie clears his throat, struggling to keep things normal and level and not completely lose his goddamn mind. He couldn’t even tell you how he ended up in this situation, even if it was staring him right in the face.

“—Eddie, are you with me?” Your voice fades in, Eddie’s attention snapping up to you. “Are you going to survive?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie assures you, his hand settling against your hips, exhaling a shaky breath. “I’m great.”

Your laugh is clipped, a little patronizing as you lift your hips slightly and shift down, “We’ll see about that.”

Eddie’s own laugh dies out on a forceful groan, your hips lifting again as quickly as they come down, just in an effort to tease him.

“That’s—that’s not funny.” Eddie pouts subtly. He could already tell this wasn’t going to last very long, but he wanted to make it worth it—knowing it would never happen again. “Your bra—can I take it off?”

You nod, leaning forward until Eddie can reach around, able to get it on the first try, much to your surprise.

“That’s pretty fucking impresive,” You tell him honestly, sliding the bra down your shoulders and tipping it off to the side, Eddie’s hand already roaming over the expanse of your tits, palming the flesh in his hands. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, biting enough to cause a tinge of pain as an effort to focus on something—anything other than how good you feel around him.

You guide his mouth toward your chest wordlessly, letting him along the dip between your breasts, across the soft mound of flesh, hips lifting synonymously with his movements—it feels easy, but with Eddie, everything always did.

He groans loudly against your skin, head tucked away into your chest as he squeezes at your thigh, blunt nails digging into the flesh. It’s a dull pain but it doesn’t bother you, letting him guide you over his cock in desperation as he opens himself up more and more, panting hotly against your skin.

“Gonna come,” He warns,”—fuck, want you to—to come with me.”

It’s not too much to ask—you would’ve been happy regardless, but the sentiment is noticed. You grab for his hand wordlessly, pressing his thumb over your clot until the pressure is just what you need, guiding him through the motions as his thrusts falter, becoming more and more erratic.

“Fuck, that’s it,” You sigh, the heat growing in your belly quickly, fingers threading into his hair, searching for something to keep you grounded, “—it’s good, keep going.”

Eddie pulls back abruptly, head bouncing harshly against the wall as he takes in the view, the visual of his dick disappearing inside you was the end all, eyes squeezing shut as he came with broken moan, load and punched out, his fingers teetering you over the edge just as quickly, letting out a soft sigh as you clamped around him, over-sensitivity kicking in as you swatted his hand away, hips rocking through the high of your orgasm as it fades quickly and leaves you aching for more.

“What the fuck?” Eddie asks out loud, not to anyone in particular as he sits in a state of disbelief, “That was—“

You chuckle, falling against his chest in a deep state of exhaustion. “It was good, Eddie.” You assure him.

“You’re lying.” He teases, pressing a finger into your side playfully.

“As far as first timers go, it was pretty fucking good.”

Eddie smiles slightly, bashful as his cheeks blush a deep red.

You pull at his ears adoringly, rubbing the red tips between your fingers. “You really are cute when you blush, you should know that.”

“It’s the only thing I have going for me, unfortunately.” Eddie jokes, but you know that’s not true.”

“I don’t know,” You tell him, “You’d be surprised.”

Eddie doesn’t question you when you fall asleep in his bed after, hair still wet from your shower. The eye contact he makes with his brother is tense, smug in the way he knows just by looking at Eddie.

“Not a fucking word.” He bites at him, moving slightly as you turn in his arms, oblivious to the conversation happening above you.

“You owe me a box.” He remarks, knowing Eddie had used up the last condom he had, “And a fucking joint.”

“Fuck off.” Eddie says humorously. As much as the two were constantly at odds, Eddie knew that there wasn’t any real hate toward each other—but it didn’t satiate the fact that his brother still wanted you just as badly, and seeing you cuddled up next to Eddie, it was the kind of heartbreak he’s never felt before—and he buries it deep, deep down.

“And Rick needs you now?” You ask Eddie, tossing your bag on his bed. “It can’t wait?”

“I have to pay him his part,” Eddie explains, “it won’t take long.”

“You say that,” You bicker, Eddie’s eyes softening with the words—it was true, he couldn’t remember a time that it was ever just a ‘quick trip’ to Rick’s, “we need to plan the campaign, Eddie.”

“We will.” He stresses, fetching for the keys stuffed in his pocket. “Just—chill for a bit, eat something—I swear I’ll try to be quick, okay?”

It was an empty promise, but you shrug in response, waving him off—it wasn’t like you had planned this out weeks before, an elaborate campaign that both of you had been excited about, all of it drained from you the moment he leaves, shoving the bag off of the bed as you fall down with a groan, letting out your frustrations into the pillow as it grows in volume.

“Who pissed you off, princess?” It’s the same voice with a different edge, cockiness seeping through.

“Go away,” You moan, turning your face toward the wall, “you’re the last voice I want to hear right now.”

“Damn—Eddie really wound you up, didn’t he?” He asks, taking a seat on Eddie’s bed despite your obvious disdain.

“I’m begging you,” You plead, “fuck off.”

He laughs above you, taking the loose pillow lying on the ground and tossing it at your head gently, “Lighten up, sweetheart—you’re so much prettier when you’re not being mean to me.”

You snap back, turning onto your ass to glare at him.

“Mean?” You draw the word out, face growing hot out of anger.

He held himself much differently than Eddie, but the same in so many ways. His eyes were still just as soft, but the crinkle around the edges when he grinned held a darkness that even you couldn’t miss. In most aspects, he’d always acted as the bigger brother despite him and Eddie only being born a few minutes apart. He was always the first to shield Eddie from their father’s fists, his vile words, comforting Eddie as he cried into his arms—he’s always been more stoic, more detached, and you can see it in the way he looks at people; but not with you.

You know it’s all a front, the anger and snide comments he makes toward you—but it doesn’t snuff the frustration you feel for him.

“You mean I’m pretty when I’m not being a bitch, right?” You argue, “If you’re gonna use your big boy words you should probably stick to them.”

He makes a noise, a little dismissive as he finally relents and leaves without a word, disappearing into the bathroom—and when the shower faucet turns on you feel a breath of relief, having finally shut him up for once.

The wait drags on—and you really shouldn’t have held out hope, taking a seat on the counter as you dug through the half-eaten back of chips, stomach growling in protest as it hoped for something more filling.

“We’re low,” His voice startles you, appearing out of nowhere as he leans against the counter, towel wrapped snugly around his waist, “Wayne gets paid tomorrow, but we don’t have anything to eat.”

“Why are you still talking to me?” You ask desperately, crumbling the bag in your hand and tossing it to the side.

“You used to like me, you know?”

Keywords being used to.

Your eyes bore into him, attempting to ignore the pale slate of skin he dawned, the lack of tattoos only slightly jarring. He was slightly tanner than Eddie, a little leaner, but still held the same structure for the most part. He seems to notice your lingering gaze, pressing up with his palms on the counter to stand at full height.

“What is it about him?” He asks curiously, “My brother.”

“What about him?” You ask flippantly, pushing off the counter until your feet land on the floor with a hard thunk.

“You like him, right?” He questions, beating around the bush.

“To a degree.”

“Enough to have sex with him?” He asks with a low laugh.

“That’s none of your business.” You answer quickly.

He smiles with an edge, evil and full of intent.

“You devirginize my brother out of pity—or what?”

He rounds the counter slowly, menacingly, invading your space—you’ve never felt threatened by him, so the urge to flee never comes, gaze peering up at him in annoyance.

“Do you like him?” He asks, tone digging into your nerves and driving you crazy. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him?”

“No,” You respond with a sturdiness, “I’m not falling in love with your brother, not that it’s any of your business, Munson.”

“Ouch,” He laughs deeply, hand resting against the counter as he leans forward, just as hair's breadth away from your ear, “but—you did tell him about your first kiss, right?”

It was a deep repressed memory that you had forced yourself to forget about, face heating up at the thought.

“Only seems fair since you took so many of his.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You warn, eyes darkening.

He leans back slightly, head tilted into your view as his tongue drags along his top row of teeth, “Or what? Your empty threats don’t scare me, princess.”

Your hand raises to shove into his chest, but it never makes it, being shot back down by his own as he reaches for your face, pinching it firmly between his fingers. He can admit he might’ve gone too far, his gaze hot and heavy as he stares down at you—you can’t even be bothered to move, hating the way your body is betraying every moral you had left, proving how easy it was to fall back into old habits.

“Tell me to let go,” He says, almost like a plea, “tell me you want me to let go.”

It feels wrong, like you’re going behind Eddie’s back—but you’re well aware that these are your own choices, you don't need to justify them for anyone.

“If I don’t?” You question, menacing as the answer never comes.

“You try to act like you’re so much better,” He spits, head shaking in dismay, “but you’re just like me.”

He tilts your head up slightly, your hands wrapping around his forearms as he pulls. It stings, the stretch, reaching up on your toes to meet him halfway, his face so close you can taste the mint and aftershave wafting off him, his facial hair only slightly more cleaned up than usual. The loose, wet curls fell over his face—a dark, dirty brown before they dried into their usual dark blonde.

You’ve helped Eddie box dye his hair every few months for the past several years, it’s the only secret he’ll take to the grave. He’s tried so hard to differentiate himself from his brother and it’s the only part of him that felt real, no matter how fake it actually was.

“You’ll fuck my brother, but you won’t fuck me—“ He pauses, trying to decipher the look on your face, seeing if it falters, but you’re as stoned-faced as possible, teeth gritting in annoyance, “seems a little unfair, doesn’t it?”

“You tell me,” You snark at him, venom in your tone, “since you want to fuck me so bad, right?”

“That’s a little much.” He retorts, “Don’t pride yourself too hard.”

You pull a face of deep want, mocking his voice despite how much softer you sound, it gets the message across either way.

“Let’s be each other’s first, okay?” You tell him, with the same intensity as he spoke to you those few years ago, curled up on his bed while Eddie was away with Wayne for the day, “I want you so bad.”

“Shut up.” He warns, jaw clenched. You smile devilishly, laughing through your teeth.

“You don’t fool me.” You tell him, his face falling in response, “You really want to fuck me?”

He doesn’t answer, eyes squinting slightly at your question. It seems like a trick, it has to be.

You weren’t even sure why you were asking, but the silence he returns is dreadful.

“Say it.” You demand, attempting to shrink him down to the wallowing, shy man he used to be.

He grins darkly, releasing his hold on your face until both of his palms press against your cheek, holding you still in his hands as his fingers drag over the jut of your lips, the deep furrow in your brow—and for a moment, the hate dissipates and you see it. Him, underneath the act.

“Right here,” He instructs, stilling you where you stood, “I know that pretty little mind is so worried about my brother walking in on us—would ruin everything, wouldn’t it?”

He’s already got a hand against the button of your jeans, popping it open skillfully, “I do want to fuck you—but I’m not gonna be nice about, sweetheart.”

“I never asked you to.” You challenge, letting him shove you against the edge of the counter, the sharpness digging into your back as he forced your pants down, mouthing hot, wet open mouthed kisses against your thighs until the clothing disappeared behind him, towel sagging around his waist as it loosened. You kicked it away with your foot, earning a chuckle from below.

And he’s not shy, rubbing his fingers over your clothed pussy, forcing yourself to swallow the shaky breath in your throat as he peers up at you, mouth quirked up in amusement.

“Don’t think this is for my brother,” He rubs a finger over the soft patch of wetness, “is it?”

“Why do you care?” You ask harshly, letting him guide your thighs apart slightly, raising his mouth to meet his fingers, tongue flattening over the fabric. It makes you gasp, the boldness and lack of shame he had for wanting to taste you.

He moans lowly, but it’s amplified through the silence that grows around you, his teeth dragging up gently until the fabric snags and he pulls the waistband away, letting it snap back painfully.

“Just so we’re clear,” He clarifies, “so you can’t act like you don’t want this.”

“I’m great at faking it.” You insult him, but it doesn’t deter him in any sense, his hands yanking at the thin piece of fabric covering your cunt, throwing them to the side.

“Uh huh,” He nods, eyes locked on yours as he repeats his earlier actions, tongue flattened out over your folds and licking up soundly, groaning at the sweetness, “look at me.”

You do, anger be damned. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he hoists your knee over his shoulder, using the leverage to spread you wide, softness quickly fading as he squeezes harshly at your thigh, tongue circling over your clit with a forceful determination, the heat of his eyes still stuck to you, cemented into your mind. And you hate how easy it is to look back, mouth falling open wide as he makes it a mission to worship you in every way possible.

“Probably had to teach him how to eat pussy, right?” He laughs, pulling away for a brief moment to speak, mouth a shining mess as he licks at the remnants of slick on his lips, “You pity him, don’t you?”

“No—no,” His mouth latches back on with a ferocity you can’t handle, fingers digging into his hair for support, pulling until he’s groaning in pain, the moans leaving your mouth are loud and unashamed, cursing at him through clenched teeth, “I don’t pity him—don’t even pity you. I just—“

He rises then, much to your disappointment, “Just what?” He breathes against you, shirt rising as he lips dragged against your stomach until he was face to face with you, eyes wide and waiting for your response.

“Hate you.” You spit out.

“Likewise, princess.” He grins, “Doesn’t change the fact that I know you want to feel what my cock is like—acting like you haven’t been trying to sneak glances, like you haven’t pictured it.”

“Don’t pride yourself too much.” You say, lying through your teeth.

He laughs meanly, reaching for your hand and bringing it to the hard ridge of his dick, tip poking up toward his belly button.

He’s longer, a little thicker, and a lot more intimidating than Eddie—and he knows it. He smirks, dragging the softness of your open palm over his dick and wrapping your delicate fingers around him, “You’re fucking sick.” He insults and you squeeze harshly, forcing a strangled grunt from his chest.

You smile sweetly, the first break in your facade as you find some enjoyment out of watching him in pain, even if it’s brief.

“That’s too bad,” You chide, “I would’ve sucked your cock if you weren’t being so mean.”

“Save it, you might change your mind later,” He laughs harshly, hands squeezing at your hips, “turn around.”

His movements are quick, planned, adjusting you until your entrance is settled over the head of his dick, fistful of hand in his hair, arms held out in front of you to ease the uncomfortable dig of the counter.

“Condom, hello—are you fucking insane?”

He laughs softly, pulling your head back until his lips graze your ear, “I’ll pull out, don’t worry.”

And despite your better interest, you nod, gasping at how easily he slips inside of you.

“You know, he talks about you all the time.” He confesses—and you want to die, wishing he'd choose any other route of conversation, but it’s pointless. “He’s been obsessed with you since we were kids.”

You moan embarrassingly depraved, his hips snapping harshly as he guided your hips back against him just as forcefully.

“I always told him I’d fuck you first—I was wrong.” He adds, jealousy oozing from his tone. “Can’t have everything, I guess.”

“Do you ever—ever shut up?” You ask weakly, voice raw and struggling with every sound that’s punched out of you.

“Oh, don’t act so fucking innocent,” He retorts, “Like you haven’t fucked most of my friends—they talk, sweetheart.”

Eddie pulls harshly, neck bending back uncomfortably as he peers over your shoulder, barely in view as you force yourself to look at him.

“Pretty tits, perfect little pussy—the only reason I let you get away with insulting me so much is because we’re the same, babe.” He tells you, “I could tell you more but—where’s the fun in that?”

“At least—I’m not pretending to be something I’m not.” You bite back, whining as he hits a spot deep inside of you, thrust relentless as his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing harshly at the bundle of nerves. It’s enough to make you double over, falling slack against the counter.

“This is for you, sweetheart.” He admits, “Thought you might like it if I—if I dressed like my brother more.”

You can hear it in his voice that he’s struggling to keep himself together.

“Imagine how heartbroken I was when you wanted me out of the club,” He confesses, “not that I give a shit about that stupid game.”

“So you’re desperate?” You ask with an ire of judgment.

“You were fucking my brother two days ago and now my dick is inside you, I wouldn’t talk shit.”

Your retort is pointless, the words failing you as he builds up the rhythm of his hips until you can’t do anything but let your body fall privy to it, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach as he circles your clit swiftly, touching you in all the ways you’ve always wanted, too afraid to ask.

“Fucking take it,” He mumbles to himself, “calling me a whore? Look at you.”

It’s met with your helpless whimpers, the position giving you little choice to snark back, his breaths quickening with each desperate snap of his hips.

“Probably thinking about both of us fucking you together, aren’t you?” He teases, groaning as you clamped around him. “That’s fucking dirty, sweetheart—but it’ll be our little secret, alright?”

You shake your head in annoyance, despite how close you were to falling over the edge, eyes squeezed shut.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell my brother about this,” He assures you, “or next time—or however many times it takes for you to realize you really don’t hate me as much as you think you do.”

“Fuck—shut up,” You growl, “just shut up and make me come.”

And he does, easily, like he’d been holding back until you said the words, moaning brokenly as he keeps his fingers in a constant motion even after you come back down, body shaking from the overstimulation until he’s pulling out abruptly.

“Fuck, turn around—“ He rushes out, “on your knees, open your mouth.”

You don’t even argue, dropping down without a fight. His face scrunches up similar to Eddie’s, looking just as endearingly soft when he comes, eyes never leaving you for a second as he spills over your tongue with a harsh gasp. His free hand reaches up to close your mouth, watching as you swallow him down obscenely—if it were anyone else, anyone, you would’ve spit it out in defiance. But with him, you couldn’t help it.

“Jesus, fuck—“ He groans, “You always this obedient?”

You shrug nonchalantly, poking your tongue out in a show that there was nothing left. “No.” You reply with a playful smirk, rising up to meet him.

“I don’t believe you.” He challenges, a careful step into your personal space. “Look at me.”

You do, feeling his scrutinizing gaze rack your entire body—he’s testing you, trying to find a way to break you down.

“Open your mouth,” He instructs softly, thumb pulling at your bottom lip until he’s got you where he likes, spitting into your mouth without warning—the moan you let slip is, well, embarrassing, “I fucking knew it—swallow it.”

Another simple request, following through on his demand.

“Good girl,” He comments hotly, leaning forward to press a messy kiss against your lips, lips parting immediately as his tongue sneaks inside, dragging against your own, “fuck—my brother would have no idea what to do with you.”

But the loud roar of an engine approaching is enough to make you both paralyzed with fear—because while he may be an asshole, he couldn’t openly break Eddie’s heart that easily.

“Not a fucking word,” You say, swearing him to secrecy, “Go.”

Your heart is in your throat for the entire thirty seconds it takes for you to reorganize your thoughts and redress yourself, quickly fleeing to the room to be met face to face with Eddie’s brother, already dressed and relaxed on his bed.

It was almost as if none of it ever happened.

You can hear Eddie calling your name from the front door, wondering if you had finally given up and gone home.

His brother smirks to himself, flipping through whatever ridiculous raunchy mag he had fetched out of his bedside table, acting as if he wasn’t buried inside you only a few minutes prior. But, that’s exactly what you wanted.

When Eddie finally bursts through the door, he’s already geared with a look of apology, hair a lot more messy than usual and windswept, checks flushed a bright red. He chances a glance at his twin brother, grimacing at the material in his hands.

“Seriously?” He asks, motioning toward you.

“What?” He asks, holding the mag up, “She doesn’t mind.”

They both glance over at you and it makes you want to melt into the earth and be literally anywhere but here, matching expectant expressions as they wait for your answer.

You shrug, “I don’t care.”

“Come on bro, stop being such a prude.” He teases, “You let her take your virginity and you turn into some puritan.”

You clear your throat loudly, eyes shifting pointedly toward Eddie’s brother, “Sorry, too soon?” He apologizes halfheartedly.

Considering the taste of his cum was still lingering heavy in your mouth, it was much too fucking soon.

“A little bit.” You respond crudely, eyes squinting narrowly at him before flicking up toward Eddie. “We still need to plan that campaign out, don’t think I forgot.”

“And there’s my cue.” His brother complains, bed springs squeaking in protest as he flees, but not before he catches your gaze on the way out.

If you only knew the trouble you were about to fall into.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

Special thanks to @jadequeen88 and @usedtobecooler for sending me down this horny ass rabbit hole of a concept.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #my writing

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megabuild · 1 month ago

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I have generated some thoughts about guudetho, a ship which I have never before considered, using my two monthly allocated brain cells from the inbox mine union. These are RPF flavored but really just analysis after watching hundreds of hours of etho content over the last two years.

I’ve watched a lot of older videos w guude and etho and honestly the dynamic is like…guude pushes etho’s buttons by saying things etho will have to cut from his videos. lol

There’s more to the dynamic there, though. Guude helped etho come out of his small town shy kid shell and made a space for him to have real close friends to goof around with online. Three clips I’m thinking of:

1. Etho talking to guude about being bummed he wasn’t invited to Mindcrack right away, and Guude saying he didn’t realize Etho wanted to join because he thought Etho was busy doing his single player. (# Unrequited pining tag)

2. Etho basically writing a love letter to collaborative SMP servers in his let’s play where he said they were the future of the medium. (Guys please let him in he wants to play touys let him in let him be friends)

3. The clip from one of the secret streams where he talks about why he left Mindcrack. When Etho got choked up talking about leaving Mindcrack…the subtle betrayal due to the potential that he would have to expose his real identity to the group to stay a member (and potentially some issues related to his other friends including his bestie Bdubs being ousted at the same time)

A lot of Etho’s relationship to Guude is tied to his experience with Mindcrack, which makes it really tragic. The last few videos of his Mindcrack series where he’s walking around and barely anyone is on the server are eerie to watch as a viewer now. The dramatic irony is almost physically painful. Very weird pieces of media to watch as someone who only started watching vids from the Mindcrack era recently.

Guide still has positive things to say about Etho and Bdubs based on that recent drunk stream, but that bridge was probably burned a long time ago.

Juxtaposed with these things:

Hermitcraft six Etho skipping the season of hermitcraft because he thought his viewers didn’t care for it (no one wanted to play touys and he didn’t have strong relationship with any hermits that weren’t former Mindcrackers)

Hermitcraft seven Etho rejoining because (?)

(mostly only hung out with bdubs, beef, and doc. )

Hermitcraft ten Etho’s relationship with the hermits. (Friends to play with and a nice stable community-he feels safe and is coming out of his little goofball shell again)

you seeing this shit guys? My anons are more invested in guudetho than I am

#anon #asks #guudetho #this is crazy but im invested

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fanfiction-blep · 2 years ago

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Imma need a part two of caught please lol. Like reader is a bad b either with a new man or single but had a glow up and doing good while miles is a wreck and has to suffer the pain of messing up

A lot of people wanted this! And honestly It's a great idea.

Caught: Part Two.

Warnings: Angst, unrequited feelings. mentions of cheating.

The balls of (Y/N)'s feet hit the cold floor or her room, she had swung her legs over the bed. She knew this day would come, but she didn't think it wouldn't happen so soon. She had been reassigned to security, she had spent the last four months reinforcing security for the new structures being built throughout Pandora. Yet she was needed, apparently the blue team had began to falter. their efficiency had depleted. And she had been brought in to fix the problem. She racked her hands over her face a sigh leaving her lips. She really didn't want to see him, she hadn't gotten back into the dating scene the opportunity for causal dating isn't as abundant on Pandora as it is on Earth. She didn't want to show up see them together and be single. She couldn't think about her personal life with this task, she could make it a quick job. Figure out what's going wrong write up a report listing a solution and then she could leave. She stood up stretching, muscles aching from her late night gym session. Her shoulder length bob brushing against her skin. Instead of focusing on getting back into dating she had focused on herself, working through the emotional trauma of what her ex had done.

She needed to work on herself, build herself back up again. She wasn't about to jump into a rebound and get hurt all over again. She needed this, she needed to build herself up. So she could come back faster and stronger than ever, a glow up. She brushed through her hair, she was in off the record today she didn't need to be strict with her appearance, despite this she dressed herself in long camo trousers and a black tank top. She exited her room, having arrived in the early hours of the morning, no one knew she was here. And she would prefer it stayed that way until absolutely necessary. But that moment was arriving in twenty minuets. She left her room a pit of anxiety forming on her stomach, she wanted to never see him again. She wanted to leave and never have to look back knowing he would be two steps behind her. He had tried to reach out the first few weeks she was gone, and she never replied. In fact she had him banned from accesing her private channel. She knew he would try and talk to her while she was here, she knew he would try to win her back even if he was dating. Her.

She froze, Z-dog was the first in the briefing room. Her face growing pale at the sight of the human in front of her.

"Morning" (Y/N) Spoke trying to be neutral. It would be harder than she thought, but she was too petty to not be the bigger person. Walking over to the hologram projection table she picked up a tablet flicking through the blue teams reviews over the last few weeks. After a few moments she realised the decrease in activity and efficiency had started two weeks after she had left. 'no fucking way' she thought. She heard voices in the corridor increasing by the second she kept her back turned beginning to throw the stats and reports onto the screen. Her job was the present how shit they had been over the last few weeks kick them back into shape and leave. She had the most experience with the recoms and had served with them all as humans. She knew each and every one of them personally, and thus she was chosen for this job. No one bedsides Z-dog had noticed her, the other men just laughing while Miles stood in the corner not paying attention at all. "Right" She spoke turning around, meeting his gaze. Shock and pain filled is expression. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen her when he walked in. "I have been brought back here for one reason. You lot are not doing your job. So in the next day I will tail you. I will see exactly why you aren't performing to standard, I'll write up a report and I'll be out of your hair. Until then, I will be up each and every one of your asses, understood?" There was an unenthusiastic mumble of agreement "See you all on the flight deck in fifteen, get too it" Quaritch just stood there, mouth a jaw. In awe. She was more beautiful that he imagined, her new hair cut suiting her perfectly. Her appearance took his breath away and he didn't know how to respond. She turned her back to him, not giving him any kind of reaction. However a slight smirk was plastered on her lips, seeing how shocked and sad he was to see her made her happy in some way. And seeing that they were obviously not together, even happier. She knew she didn't want him back, but knowing that she had moved on and he hadn't felt like penance in a way. Maybe she wouldn't hate being back Afterall.

#angst warning #miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #avatar quaritch #avatar

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linawritestwst · 2 years ago

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yay, the requests are open! \o/ can i request ace, deuce, floyd and malleus discovering that y/n had a s/o in the human world that her still love and miss sometimes? tnx <3

ace, deuce, floyd and malleus finding out that you had a s/o in your world headcanons (gn!reader)

FINALLY. THE LAST REQUEST.

anyway, yeah, this one is. sad. idk if you wanted this to be angsty, anon, but this is how i understood the assignment hjdkdksl.

warnings: these headcanons don't have a happy ending (even though it's implied that some characters will eventually get over it) and you also don't end up with any of the characters, so if you're uncomfortable with angst, i suggest to skip these. also there's yandere!malleus. (and maybe even yandere!floyd if you squint hard enough)

and i know that you used she/her pronouns for the mc in your request, but to be honest, i accidentally ended up using only you/your pronouns for them, so yeah, these hcs came out more gender-neutral. sorry :') i also used they/them pronouns for the reader character's partner just in case.

ace trappola.

♡ he.. wouldn't be happy to hear it. at first he would just laugh and think that it's a prank, he really didn't expect you to have a partner, but when you claim that it's true and even prove it to him by showing photos of them.. ace is not laughing anymore. you really do have a partner. sure, they live in a different world, but you still miss them and you are clearly not planning to break up with them.

♡ ace feels awkward, confused and even.. heartbroken? he really, really doesn't want to admit it, but then he remembers how many times he made jokes about you having a crush on him and he realizes that all this time he was the one who had a crush on you. and even worse, it was unrequited. all this time, he was in love with someone who was already taken.

♡ ace doesn't show how he really feels about all this and he just laughs it off again. he jokingly swears that he's not planning to stay single for long, though you should be proud of getting a partner before he got one. you get a pat on the back and your day continues as it normally would, but ace still feels like someone just stabbed him and left him to bleed. thankfully, if you just give him some time, the pain will eventually go away. maybe he doesn't look like it, but ace is a smart guy and he will accept the fact that you're taken. he would look like such a loser if he didn't, haha..

deuce spade.

♡ of course, he is a bit shocked. this is so unexpected.. no, no, it's not like he thought it was impossible for you to date someone, but it's just.. he doesn't know how to explain it, he just doesn't remember you ever mentioning that person. he's happy for you though! it's good to hear that you have someone who loves you so much and treats you so well.. well, uh, had someone like that before you came to this world.

♡ but when you leave because you have some other things to do, deuce suddenly starts to feel weird. like, for some reason he's not so happy anymore. he feels sad, angry and.. even jealous, maybe? and when he notices that, he also starts to feel guilty, because he should be happy for you, you deserve a loving partner and you're such a great person, of course, you would already be taken! it's just.. well.. maybe deuce actually thought that you might give him a chance..

♡ deuce would be in extremely deep denial and it would be hard for him to accept that he actually was in love with you and it makes him sad to hear that you have a partner. he would never show that though, but other people (like ace) would be able to figure out what's going on very easily. maybe after a deep conversation or two deuce will be able to move on and truly be happy for you this time.

floyd leech.

♡ he honestly wouldn't pay that much attention to what you said at first, but when you mention your s/o for the second time, he would suddenly go ".. wait, what? you're already dating someone, shrimpy?" you tell him everything about your partner (even though you've already told him that you're taken in the past.. but whatever, it's floyd, maybe he didn't find your story interesting enough) and this time he actually does listen, but he looks very confused.

♡ like, so you've been lying to him this whole time, shrimpy?? you sigh. "i just thought that the fact that i'm taken isn't that important?" right when floyd is about to tell you that it actually is important.. he stops. no, you're right, it really doesn't matter that much. but for some reason, he still feels strange. he still feels like you've lied to him, even though it wasn't intentional.

♡ it doesn't take long for you to notice that floyd's mood swings are even more weird and sudden now. right now he's chill and relaxed and he even asks you about your relationship with your s/o, like how close are you with them, how did you two meet, etc. but like three minutes later he tells you to shut up and says that no one cares about your relationship status. and if you make a joke about him being jealous.. you'll regret it right after.

malleus draconia.

♡ he's a little confused at first. when you explain everything to him, he.. doesn't take it well. no, he looks fine, it's hard to tell if he's sad or angry, he even looks kinda happy for you. he just nods and smiles the whole time, but right when you leave, he drops the mask and other students can clearly see that this guy is not happy at all. he obviously looks annoyed and when he's finally in his room, he can't hide his emotions anymore and he throws a tantrum.

♡ the weather starts getting worse every day because of malleus's state and of course, many people are starting to get tired of all these dark clouds and thunderstorms. but it's not like they can do much to stop him. he's mad, he's jealous, he's so afraid of losing you. you just want to go back to your world as soon as possible because you miss your partner so much, right? you don't care about malleus, you're gonna leave him just like everyone does. he had hope, he really thought that you're special, that he finally found a friend, maybe he even found the love of his life.. but he was wrong.

♡ .. maybe he just needs to give you a reason to never leave this world. maybe he just has to convince you that your relationship with that person actually wasn't that good, oh sevens, what if it was unhealthy? yes malleus and your obsession with y/n is definitely healthy there's no need for you to leave twisted wonderland, y/n. what if this person already found someone new while you were gone? what if they don't even miss you that much? malleus would certainly miss you more than they do. so please.. don't leave him, y/n. your s/o never cared about you as much as he did.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twst headcanons #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader

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muse-oleum · 7 months ago

Text

Beloved (Part I)

“She was the only woman who saw all of him—the good, the bad and the ugly—and wanted all of it. From the moment she arrived in our village, everyone else never really stood a chance. Honestly, I don’t believe anyone ever will.” OR Rebekah tells Hayley the story of the first and only woman Elijah Mikaelson has ever truly loved, and why he can never love her the way she wants him to.

Elijah Mikaelson x Witch!OC/10th century AU/Unreliable Narrator (mostly Rebekah, though)

Find it on AO3: here.

(+ so many more tags and nerding it out in the notes :) come say hi)

Hayley was sulking again, listlessly watching the fire crackle back to life as Rebekah poked at it, the scent of firewood filling the air as the flames soared higher, licking up at the blackened bricks. With a sigh, the vampire sat back into the leather armchair closest to the fireplace, occasionally prodding the heavy iron grate closer to the hearth, as if keeping the crackling embers from escaping would somehow prevent the werewolf from asking her the question she knew she wanted to ask.

Rebekah sank deeper into the comforting depths of the armchair, eyeing her companion from above the rim of her glass. The scowl on Hayley’s face was enough to indicate just what had transpired between her big brother and the young werewolf.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” she said, taking a sip of… whatever it was Nik kept around the study.

Hayley looked up, frowning. There was a world of hurt in her eyes that Rebekah knew all too well. She’d seen it time and time again in face after face. All the women who fell for her brother inevitably ended up wearing a similar expression on their face when they finally understood that Elijah would never give himself to them completely.

Honestly, had he been anyone else, Rebekah would have accused him of having serious commitment issues.

But this was her brother. Loyal to a fault, fiercely protective of those he loved, dotting uncle to his little niece. And so, as much as she’d rather be just about anywhere else right now, it was both her duty and burden to explain the situation.

Especially to this particular woman, seeing as she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon and her remaining in the dark would only cause more problems in the future; both for her and for the entire family.

Rebekah sighed again, downing the rest of her drink.

“Just so you’re aware: Elijah would have my head for even broaching the subject with him, let alone with you, so if you rat me out, I’ll make Mikael look like the easter bunny.”

The corners of Hayley’s mouth twitched, threatening a smile—an all too rare occurrence these days. It dimmed almost immediately, the kind of pain only unrequited love could bring swimming in her eyes. The werewolf sighed, propping up her chin on her knees, returning her gaze to the fire.

“I just—” she closed her eyes, taking a breath and letting it out before trusting her voice again, “I thought we could be going somewhere, y’know?” She shrugged, tucking her fingers inside the sleeves of her sweater, “But he’s just so… remote. It’s like I can’t reach him, or something. Every time I try, he just… closes off.”

Rebekah poured herself another drink, taking a fortifying breath.

“He wasn’t always that way.” Seeing Hayley’s eyebrows shoot up all the way to her hairline, she scoffed. “A thousand years is a very long time, you know.” Tilting her head, she decided to rip the band aid off in one clean swipe. Better to have it over and done with as quickly as possible. “When we were human, Elijah fell in love with a woman named Svala. She was…” she took a long breath, echoes of agonized screams clawing at her mind, losing herself to old memories as she gazed down at her glass. Rebekah watched them swirl in the dark amber liquid, swallowing the lump in her throat when she realized she couldn’t quite remember her face, sharp features and laughing grey eyes tangling together in soft hues, pulling her back in time despite herself.

“She was his wife, and the love of his life.”

Present-day Virginia, c. 990 A.D.

It was just after Álfablót, during the month of Haustmánuður, that the boats arrived, narrowly escaping winter at sea. Ayana had already foretold their arrival and entire families had left the village to go greet their loved ones from the old countries. The village itself waited, the old and the young, and all those whose kin had not been onboard the boats. New homes had been built—as many as possible—and there were still logs of timber scattered around in expectation for more, covered by pine needles and leaves to keep most of the coming ice at bay.

Preparations for winter were well underway by the time the first travelers were spotted, able-bodied men and women carrying young children in their arms or on their backs, with the more travel-weary stragglers lagging behind. Only the more adventurous children seemed to have any energy left, gazing at the welcoming party with wide eyes, tugging at each other’s sleeves.

The head of the village had gone with them and there was a collective sigh of relief at his safe return. Some of the werewolves had gone too, eager to see new faces—and to warn them of what life with them would entail.

Not that it mattered. After such a long voyage, all would have been glad of a simple meal, the warmth of a fire and the comfort of family they had not seen in years.

Carrying her pack on her back, Svala looked up at the tall pine trees, so different from the wide oak trees of her home. She didn’t know what to make of them—she didn’t know what to make of any of it.

Her mother had convened with her Sisters, sensing the dangers in the new religion that had made its way to their homeland, swaying their people and changing their ways. She had come back with a haunted look, telling her to pack whatever it was she loved most, and that they were leaving. Svala had raged and raged, tears in her eyes, refusing to leave and digging her heels into the ground until her mother had all but dragged her onto the boat.

It was a great hulking beast, larger than the ships she had grown up around. It was meant for a sea voyage that would last weeks, where storms would rage and winds would blow, threatening to drown them into seas she had only ever heard about in stories. Her mother’s presence had calmed her, the hand on her shoulder heavy enough to pull her from her thoughts.

No völva would let her people drown.

It still hadn’t been enough to save her, though, and Yrsa Anundottir had died a week before they reached their destination, leaving her young daughter alone, cold, and scared in a new world she knew nothing about.

A young couple, Ulf and Asta, had taken Svala under their wing. Asta, like her mother, was a völva; and quite good at it too, though she dabbled more in incantations and less in the art of divination.

Svala had always been thankful her own powers had strayed more towards healing than the more arcane arts. She had never envied her mother’s power and, as she stood looking up at the trees in her new home, all she felt was hatred for it. Divination had brought her here, all alone, without her mother. She couldn’t help but suspect Yrsa had known all along she would not make it this far, and it only made her angrier.

A small boy tugging on her skirts distracted her from her thoughts, his wide smile and big brown eyes warming her despite the autumn winds whipping her hair around her face. She tucked an errant curl behind her ear and smiled back, waving at him. He smiled even wider and ran back to those she assumed must be his family. He tugged on the sleeve of one of the older men, whispering in his ear something that made him laugh.

He was handsome, with shoulder-length dark hair braided back from his face, revealing balanced features, most prominent of which sharp cheekbones and an even sharper jawline. She averted her eyes when she inadvertently met his own, the same warm brown as those of his… brother? Son? He was old enough that it could be both.

Svala felt the pressure of Asta’s hand at the small of her back, guiding her to a clearing where an open fire pit had been lit, casting a warm glow on the charred ground beneath it. The village leader, a well-built man called Harald whom she had grown to respect over the past few weeks, had opened the welcome feast, and she noticed that those whose families had left their homeland years ago had at long last been reunited. She smiled, dropping her pack against the trunk of a nearby tree, as she observed Ulf greet his brother Magnar, the two men embracing each other. Magnar then turned to Asta, opening his arms to her and welcoming her, and Svala felt a small twinge of jealousy.

It was petty, she knew, but she wished someone was there to greet her like that. But all she had was her small pack and the memory of her mother.

Averting her eyes to hide the sting of tears she refused to spill for a woman who had abandoned her, Svala turned back to her meagre belongings, rummaging in search of something a little warmer. Earlier this week, they’d stopped at a stream to wash and repair their clothes, and she had taken the opportunity to refresh her winter clothes, not knowing when she’d next have the chance.

Still, fall here seemed milder than at home, where the first snows had surely already fallen. She was hit by another wave of sadness and tied the strings of her pack with such vigor that she nearly snapped them, biting back tears when a small hand braced itself on the bark of the tree in front of her.

“Mother says you can leave your belongings at our home. It’s not wise to leave them about like that.”

It was the little boy from earlier, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, observing her with a far more intelligent gaze then she’d come to expect for a child his age. Their speech differed slightly from hers, but she understood him well enough, and she thought she could actually make out the slight inflections of her homeland.

“Why? Would someone steal it?”

He shook his head and bent towards her, mischief in his eyes. “No, but the landvaettir might take it and hide it inside an old tree and then we’d never see it again.”

Svala blinked, then laughed. The boy’s eyes lit up, and she had the sneaking suspicion he had been trying to cheer her up. It certainly had worked—it felt so very good to express joy again.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” She whispered conspiratorially, winking at him.

Elated, the little boy ran back towards his family, who had dispersed into the throng of people gathered in the clearing. She saw him gesture wildly to the same man as earlier, caught the amused smile on his face before he started to make his way towards her. She dropped her gaze back to her pack, tying it off with one final tug and hoisting it on her shoulders.

The man was tall; taller than she’d expected. He towered over her, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders. Instead of making her feel caged in, it made her feel safer, an odd sensation tingling up her spine.

Svala finally dared to meet his eyes, finding them darker than his brother’s but full of the same earnestness. He inclined his head towards her, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. It made him appear younger, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. She smiled back tentatively, her lips stinging, chapped raw by the wind and the salt.

Before she had even taken one step, he took her pack from her, swinging it over his shoulder as if it weighed next to nothing. The little boy grabbed her hand, tugging her along to meet the rest of their family, babbling happily about how he would take her to see the clearing tomorrow, before all the leaves had fallen and Svala couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Perhaps we should let her decide for herself what she would like to do first, little brother?”

The boy stopped, eyeing her as he would a particularly complicated puzzle, a little storm gathering in his eyes, and she knew enough of children to recognize the beginnings of a tantrum.

“I’ll be happy to come with you to the clearing, little one,” Svala said, smiling at the glee in his eyes, “on one condition.” He looked on with rapt attention, his eyes widening. She smiled wider, “I will go, but only if you tell me your name.”

She heard the man beside her huff out a laugh. The boy snuck his tongue out at him, narrowly escaping a smack upside the head as he danced around them, avoiding his brother’s hand deftly. He reminded her of a wood sprite.

“This impolite little imp is Henrik,” his brother said, giving up and tugging his little brother into his side, ruffling his hair. He turned towards her, warm brown eyes mirthful.

“I’m Elijah.”

----------------

“And that’s how they met,” Rebekah sighed, getting up to refill her glass. It was a good thing she couldn’t get drunk easily; she had a feeling she would need that tolerance as the evening wore on. “Svala charmed Henrik as soon as she stepped foot inside our village and our little brother was the way to Elijah’s heart.” She took a small sip, fingers drumming on the table. “I honestly think it was instantaneous, at least on his part. I could tell he was smitten almost immediately.”

She sighed again, leaning back against the table. Hayley was silent, staring at her—although Rebekah was ready to bet the other woman wasn’t really seeing her at all. The Original suppressed another sigh. She disliked the idea of hurting her but it was unavoidable. Hayley was young, and on the cusp of love. She deserved to be pulled from the edge before she well and truly fell for her brother, a path which only ever led to heartbreak.

“Svala’s mother had died during the crossing,” Rebekah continued, seating down on the table, “and our own mother took pity on her, I suppose. I think she could also sense Svala’s powers, which were strong even for a völva, and—”

“You used that word before, but what does it mean?” Hayley asked, straightening up and tugging the fabric of her dress around her knees, visibly shaking herself from her thoughts.

“Völur—that’s the plural form—were witches (mostly), but also sometimes warlocks, who traveled the old countries, stopping here and there to dispense their services. Another term for a völva is seiðkona—wielder of seiðr, what you’d call magic.”

“So she was a witch?”

Rebekah hummed, taking another sip. “Yes, but also something more. You see, modern-day witches seem to have largely lost their powers of divination. At least the ones I’ve met.” She shrugged. “Kol’s been to the East, I’m sure he would tell you more about ancient magical powers, if he could.” Rebekah cleared her throat, pushing away thoughts of her brother. “But in any case, a seiðkona could, under the right circumstances, predict the future with reasonable accuracy.” She paused, eyeing the werewolf. “Svala was one such witch, although we didn’t discover that until much later.”

Hayley nodded pensively. “So your family took her in?”

“Early on, yes. She stayed with us for a while, helping our mother and myself with household chores—don’t give me that look, it was like that, back then—and we grew close.” Rebekah swallowed the lump in her throat as the memories came rushing back. “I always had wanted a sister.”

----------------

“I do believe my brother fancies you,” Rebekah said as they crouched near the frozen stream, their fingers red and stinging from the cold.

“Which one? You have many,” her friend answered with an impish grin.

“Oh, stop it! You know which one!”

“Why, Rebekah,” Svala stood, batting her eyelashes innocently in her best impression of Tatia, the woman who hung on Elijah’s and Nik’s every word, “I had no idea Henrik saw me in such a way.”

That earned her a handful of freezing water to the face. Shrieking, she kicked fallen leaves at Rebekah in retaliation.

The beautiful blonde, the only sister in a large brood of brothers, had been Svala’s salvation these past few months. They were around the same age, with Svala only a few years older than Rebekah, and of vastly different temperaments. That did nothing to stop the budding friendship between them as Rebekah helped Svala navigate life in her new environment, introducing her to their neighbors and helping her to make friends. In return, Svala had taken to helping the younger woman with her chores, lending a hand where she was needed.

Esther, too, had been glad of the help, saying jokingly that she wasn’t getting any younger, and thus welcoming Svala with open arms. She suspected that the older witch would have wanted more daughters. Together with Asta and Ayana, Esther had also taken to perfecting the young witch’s understanding of seiðr, the trio easily stepping into her mother’s shoes. Of the three, Svala was most at ease with Asta, given that they shared a common past—or as common as anyone around here, anyway. Ayana scared her a little, but she rather thought her mother and her would have been fast friends. As for Esther, she remained undecided.

She was grateful to the older woman—more than grateful, really—but there was still something about her that Svala couldn’t quite shake. She wondered distractedly if she should be worried that her mother’s power had managed to make its way to her, and what it was trying to tell her if it had.

“You know perfectly well which of my brothers I was referring to.”

She did.

Elijah was still somewhat of a mystery to her. A man of few words, the only signs of his partiality came in other forms. He would help her with the more physical tasks, such as carrying buckets filled with water and snow for washing and cooking. Or he would help her skin and tan the hide of the animals the men caught on their hunts, fashioning coats and pouches from the leather. He had introduced her to his friend, the smithy, a tall, muscular man named Leif, who showed her how he made the arrowheads and knives used for hunting.

These people did not raid, although, far from the sea as they were, she supposed it wasn’t all that unusual. They appeared to trade with some neighboring settlements, although most of these were nomadic in nature. The only other village near them was the one led by the werewolves—a people Svala had only heard her mother speak about very infrequently. There were some clans in the old country, but they lived far from towns and villages in self-inflicted exile.

This was not the case here, where the two villages cohabited peacefully. There was, however, an undeniable current of fear around the full moon, when those not afflicted by the Curse would withdraw to the cave systems underneath their village, magical boundaries and wards in place, to wait out the moon. She supposed she understood the high status that Ayana and Esther seemed to enjoy. When faced with fangs and claws, seiðr was an attractive defense.

She was pulled from her musings by the feeling of a strong hand on her arm. Elijah swooped in and took the heavy bucket from her, barely straining under its weight. He gave her a gentle smile and fell into step alongside her. Rebekah, the little minx, winked at her—in full view of her brother!—and escaped up the path, grumbling about how she too could use someone to help her with her own burden. As if summoned, Nik appeared at her side, easily bracing against its weight. Svala huffed a laugh when he threw her a long suffering look over his shoulder.

“Your brother seems to never be too far from your sister,” she told Elijah quietly, laughter brightening her dark eyes.

Those eyes of hers, the color of dark stormy skies, had been an object of fascination to him ever since he had met her. They seemed almost alive, wisps of grey and brown and blue all interweaving together, one peeking through more than the others depending on the weather.

Of course, her eyes were not the only beautiful thing about her. It seemed to him that the gods had crafted this woman solely to plague his dreams. She filled his mind so completely, he had began to wonder about his sanity. On one occasion, he had heard her sing quietly to herself as she gathered wood for the fire, her long brown hair tumbling down her back, framing her petite frame and highlighting the curves of her body; and Elijah had almost believed he’d been taken in by a forest spirit.

But such stories were the ones he told his youngest brother on nights he could not sleep, and he knew better.

He did not know what love felt like; at least, not that kind of love. He knew the deep devotion he felt towards his siblings, and the lust for a warm, soft, body; but this was uncharted territory. Every time Svala was near, Elijah lost the ability to speak, unable to string more than two sentences together for fear of appearing an utter fool. His silence did not seem to bother her, so he took it as encouragement to remain just as he was, comfortable with admiring from afar.

Which was exactly what he was doing right now. Svala was eyeing him curiously, no doubt wondering what was taking him so long. Little did she know (he very much hoped) that all he wanted to do was kiss her to find out whether her lips were as soft as they appeared.

“Rebekah and Niklaus have always been very close,” he answered slowly, returning his gaze to his siblings in front of them, “it used to make Henrik quite jealous.”

“Is that why he’s so attached to you?”

Elijah chuckled. “No, Henrik is rather fickle in his affections. One week, he won’t leave me alone, the next, he’ll be glued to Kol’s side.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping a few octaves. “Although I think that’s mainly so he can learn new tricks and cause more trouble.”

Svala laughed. “Yes, he’s rather good at finding trouble.”

“Oh, I’m sure he would say trouble finds him.”

“An answer only a troublemaker would know to give,” she said, nodding sagely.

They had reached the village, passing through a denser copse of old trees, the scent of pine needles overwhelming. It was one Svala had taken time to get used to, but now that she had, it filled her with a strange sort of warmth. She wasn’t sure if she could call that feeling “belonging”, but it certainly felt close to it.

Between Rebekah’s freely given friendship, Henrik’s childlike love and Elijah’s quiet company, she had began to ease into this new life her mother had thrown her into. She still missed her home, and the wide, tall oak trees behind her homestead, but the ache was cooling, little by little.

Of the Mikealsons, only Finn and Kol remained a little aloof. The former because it was simply his personality and the latter, she suspected, was a little shy about talking to a völva. Svala wanted to tell him he had nothing to worry about: she couldn’t predict his future even if she tried, and she had no desire to do so. The topic hadn’t even been discussed by any of her three teachers yet, although she knew Asta, at least, had some knowledge of the divination arts. Ayana and Esther seemed to think it was best left alone and Svala would tend to agree, given where her own mother’s gift had led her.

Then again, she thought, chancing a glance at the man beside her to find him looking back at her with a small smile on his lips, perhaps that was not an entirely bad thing.

----------------

“They kept dancing each other for weeks,” Rebekah said, shaking her head fondly in an effort to drive away memories of her friend. “It drove Nik and I absolutely mad.”

The Original sighed, raking a hand through her blonde curls to briefly massage the back of her neck. Sitting still for so long rarely took a toll on her body anymore—she was, quite simply, too old to care—but she suspected the current topic of discussion drained her more than she’d like to admit.

Talking about Svala was forbidden. Everybody in the family knew it, and even Nik never ever dared to speak her name when Elijah was within earshot. Her death had been a blow their older brother had never recovered from and even now, nearly a millennium after he’d buried her, she would still catch him bracing himself against some pain she couldn’t see and she knew he was thinking of her.

“Their courtship was long, by our standards,” she continued, turning her back to Hayley as she refilled her glass for the umpteenth time that evening, “but that’s Elijah for you.”

“Why do you say that?” Hayley asked. “He’s always seemed like a man who makes up his mind quickly to me.”

Rebekah hummed into her glass. “Oh, his mind was made up, believe me. He was going to marry her, none of us—least of all him, at least at the unconscious level—had any doubts about that.” She turned back to her companion. “But you forget about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Eyeing her friend, the vampire sighed, looking down at her glass. “Our father.” She took a deep breath, hating that even now the man had such a hold on her as to make her afraid of speaking his name. “Mikael wasn’t a kind man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” she said drily, smiling slightly at the werewolf’s quiet snort, “and he wasn’t then either. I think Elijah was afraid to bring Svala into a family with such a man at the head of it.”

Rebekah sat back into her original seat, bringing her forearms to rest on her thighs, rolling her glass between her hands. “Perhaps he was right to be worried, considering everything that happened.”

“Did Mikael hurt her?”

The Original chuckled bitterly. “Who didn’t he hurt? He hurt Nik, most of all, but he took it out on others too. Our mother never moved against him,” she bit out angrily, “and even back then, I didn’t understand why. He was strong, but she was a witch, so what was she afraid of?” She huffed. “Obviously, now, I know she was scared her little secret would come to light.”

Hayley nodded, shifting in her seat. “Klaus’ real father?”

“The leader of the neighboring village,” Rebekah answered, noting the disbelieving look the other woman shot her. “Yes, rather stupid of both of them really, but oh well.” She shook her head, willing herself to get back on track. “But no, Mikael never laid a hand on Svala. Elijah would probably not have stopped me from trying to kill him if he had.”

Hayley’s eyes grew wide. “You tried to kill your dad?”

Rebekah nodded darkly. “And I wish to god Elijah had let me finish the job.”

“That’s wild.”

“Welcome to the family, love.” Rebekah gulped down the rest of her drink, thinking that she might just have to slow down if she was going to survive waking up tomorrow. “Anyway, after a few months of tentative smiles and furtive glances, Elijah finally made the first move, to our family’s collective relief."

----------------

Midsommerblót was fast approaching and with it, the height of the summer months. Offerings for the landvaettirs had been prepared, crops stood tall or sprawled over and under the soil, birds were chirping in the tall trees and it seemed every living thing was bustling in preparation for the harvest months.

Svala herself had not been idle since the arrival of spring. With help from Elijah and Nik, as well as Leif and Ulf, she had moved into her own cottage, not too far from the Mikaelsons. It was small, but sturdy, the last of the new homes built for the newcomers.

She would miss Rebekah’s constant companionship and the easy routine she had fallen into amongst the family, but she was glad to have a space to herself. She’d never really had that before. The home she had shared with her mother was smaller than her new one, even if her youth had been spent mostly following her mother in her travels.

Besides, given the current climate in the Mikaelson home, Svala had no doubt Rebekah would end up sleeping here more often than not in the upcoming months, personal space be damned. Mikael had been in an even fouler mood than usual, and she had been glad to escape. Svala knew her friend well enough by now to know that her new home was about to become Rebekah’s new home too.

Unless her brother beat her to it.

The distance between Elijah and her was long gone, replaced by open smiles and slower touches; the kind that lingered a little too long and left her a little too breathless. As the summer solstice approached and Midsommer drew nearer, she’d began to feel the telltale pull of desire more forcefully every time he stood next to her. It grew so strong at times that she worried the others would feel it, like the current pushing her towards him. She was entirely powerless to resist it but felt no need to battle it, if only they could find themselves alone.

But, as things would have it, between moving into her new home and preparing for the festival—as well as her daily chores and Henrik’s and Rebekah’s constant demand for her attention—she had barely had any time to herself. Let alone with Elijah.

And yet, the infuriating man wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

Svala shook her head ruefully, spotting Nik down the path.

Gathering wildflowers was a task she and Nik enjoyed doing together. He always kept some tucked away for Tatia, she knew, and he’d give them to her tonight, at the feast. The others were for Rebekah, who’d just turned sixteen last week, a true child of summer.

Together, they kept an eye on Henrik, who amused himself by crafting what flowers they brought him into crowns and bouquets. Svala had a sneaking suspicion one of these was for her, but she wouldn’t ruin his joy at giving it to her tonight.

“So, has my brother finally kissed you?” Nik asked her out of the blue, just as they settled into the routine of their task.

She sputtered, her cheeks glowing red, and he had the audacity to laugh at her.

“Nik!”

“Svala!”

Speechless, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open, she rather reminded him of a fish before she burst into a fit of laughter.

“You haven’t answered my question,” he said shrewdly.

Looking down at the handful of flowers in her basket, Svala pondered how best to answer him, when she felt a hand settle on her shoulder. She looked up, momentarily confused by his sudden change in attitude. Gone was the impish grin, instead, he looked very serious.

“My brother is often too noble for his own good,” he said, somewhat cryptically (and here she thought Esther was the only one with a penchant for the mysterious), “and has a tendency to let that get in the way of his happiness.” He paused, blue eyes studying her. “But he’s in love with you, of that I have no doubt, and if he lets you go because of our father, I will personally make him regret it.”

Svala smiled back tentatively, before her brain catches up. “Your father? Why? Is he… opposed to me?” She couldn’t fathom what it was she’s done to incur the man’s disapproval.

She didn’t say that she was also secretly scared of not being good enough for Elijah.

Nik shook his head, bending to pick some more flowers. “No, as a rule, I don’t believe he is but he’s a difficult man…” he hesitated, debating whether or not to share something else with her, before sighing, lowering his eyes to the ground. “He’s… violent. And unforgiving of weakness. He views love as such, and has already told Elijah off multiple times for spending too much time around you. Not that it stopped him.” He shrugged, “I think Elijah is worried about you joining our family because of how Father is.”

Svala blushed at the mention of her ‘joining’ the family.

It’s not that the thought hadn’t entered her mind since she’d met Elijah, but völvas rarely married or had children. Asta and her mother were exceptions. And Svala herself had never met her father. All her mother would tell her was that he was a good man, a Dane, powerful, and that was that. She didn’t even know his name and probably never would.

Not that it mattered now. She was an ocean away.

“Is he that bad?” she asked quietly, redirecting her thoughts to the present. She knew Mikael was a hard man, but all of the men she’s met before, save for Elijah and his brothers, were—in one way or another—hard men as well. And yet, everyone seemed to tiptoe around the Mikaelson patriarch as if he was Hel* come to drag them all down to her realm.

Nik sighed, about to speak, but suddenly froze, catching sight of something she couldn’t see. Turning around, she saw Mikael looking at them, face unreadable but eyes like thunder. He truly did look like a Viking: cold and hard, like the ice. Svala wondered if it didn’t run in his veins. Nik sighed dejectedly next to her, no doubt expecting a humiliating tongue-lashing once they got back to the village.

No, Mikael did not seem like the type of man who would be pleased to see a son of his picking flowers with a woman.

She held the man’s gaze, daring him to come forward. She may not be her mother, but she could hold her own if he tried anything. She didn’t miss the way Nik tensed as his father’s gaze shifts to her. Svala was half tempted to send a little jolt of magic through the man, but stopped herself when Nik’s hand slid into hers. Glancing at him, she took her eyes off Mikael and in the time it took for him to glance back, his father was already gone past the tree line.

“Please don’t provoke him,” he begged softly, his eyes a little frantic, “Elijah would never forgive himself if Father did something to you.”

Svala stared at him, dumbfounded. Would he dare?

Nik seemed to understand exactly what she was asking, and shook his head. She relaxed slightly, until her friend sighed again, rubbing his neck. The motion dislodged the fabric of his tunic, pushing it aside. Horrified, Svala got a glimpse of what looked like the healed marks of a lashing, scarring the flesh across his upper back. She stopped herself from rushing forward, unsure whether he meant for her to see the evidence of his father’s abuse or not.

Nik might not share his father’s disdain for weakness but that did not mean he would welcome her pity.

----------------

“After that, when she wasn’t with Elijah, Svala rarely left Nik’s side,” Rebekah whispered, staring into the fire as if she could will her friend back to life. “I don’t think she ever told either of them she’d seen his wounds, but she told me.”

Together, the two women had tried to shield her brother from Mikael’s wrath as much as possible. But neither had been able to stop her parents from doing the unthinkable: binding his brother’s wolf form, denying him all ties to the man he would have been better off being raised by.

Standing up, the Original stoked the fire, watching as the flames soar higher, losing herself to memories of another fire, in another place, a thousand years ago.

----------------

A little off to the side, Svala watched as people danced around the bonfire that stood proudly at the center of the clearing she had arrived in only months prior. It was the biggest fire she’d ever seen, stacks and stacks of wood burning high into the night. Gathered around the clearing were the elders, amongst them Ayana and Esther, who looked on fondly as the young danced.

There was one more house on the far left side to where Svala stood and the ground was now littered with old pine needles and wildflowers. She could hardly believe it had almost been a year since her arrival in the village. So much had changed since then: the harsh bite of the cold winds was a distant memory, her loneliness was gone, and she hadn’t missed the sea for a few weeks now. There were still times were homesickness would find her, creeping into her heart when she least expected it, but those were growing few and far between.

The man largely responsible for such a change stood on the other side of the clearing, Rebekah by his side, her hair braided prettily in the style Svala knew she liked. Kol and Nik were arguing with each other, but judging by the fondly exasperated expression on Elijah’s face, it wasn’t anything she needed to worry about.

Her own hair was swept back from her temples in two braids, barely strong enough to contain the rest of her mane as it swept down her back. Svala rarely wore it down, preferring the tightly braided style some of the shieldmaidens had worn back home. It was practical, but Midsommer was not about being practical. It was about revelry and fun, partaking in the joys of summer and enjoying the fruits of a year’s worth of hard work.

She’d even worn her best dress, the one her mother had sewn for her back home, during one of those cold winter nights that felt like a lifetime ago. Yrsa had always been partial to green, for herself, as it highlighted her red hair, but red had always been Svala’s color, bringing out the color of her eyes and the warmer tones in her hair. But the pigments for red dye were expensive, even when supplemented with wild berries, and so this dress had only ever been meant to be worn on special occasions. Svala thought her first Midsommerblót in her new home was a rather good time to try it on.

She giggled when Henrik ran up to her, tugging Rebekah with him, and dragged them both to the center of the clearing, where the warmth of the fire was almost unbearable, to dance. The little boy spun around them in a circle, tugging at their skirts until Svala caught him, tickling him mercilessly. He shrieked with laughter, trying to escape her and drawing the attention of his older brothers. Absorbed as she was by her revenge, Svala completely missed the look of complete adoration that overtook Elijah’s face, but Rebekah certainly did not.

She hoped someone would look at her like that too, one day.

Bending down to swoop her little brother up into her arms, Rebekah tugged at Svala’s hand, drawing the older girl into the wide circles of the dance, turning around each other in turn as Henrik clung to her, tucked between them. Laughing, Svala came to a stop, her cheeks red from exertion, and disappeared briefly, coming back with two cups of ale. The beverage was more than welcome, a relief against the heat. Henrik clamored for a sip and Svala had all the trouble in the world keeping him off, her eyes widening playfully as she downed the rest of her cup, taunting him.

“That’s not fair!” Henrik whined, kicking his little legs, “I wanted some too!”

“Not just yet, little one” Svala said, swooping him up to let Rebekah enjoy her own drink in peace, “but there’s some very tasty berry juice over there.”

The bribe worked, as it always did on children. Pacified, Henrik allowed himself to be led to the large oak tables, bending under the weight of the harvest. While Svala poured him a cup of fresh juice, Rebekah saw her older brother approach and, in a moment of uncharacteristic generosity of spirit, whisked Henrik away from the couple the first chance she got.

Passing by Elijah, Henrik nearly thwarted her plan when he reached for him. Knowing her brother was powerless to refuse him, Rebekah twirled around on herself, laughing and drawing a giggle from the child, effectively distracting him from their older brother’s presence. She made her way to another table, sitting herself and Henrik down to let him pilfer the entire platter of wild berries, stuffing them into his mouth as fast as a squirrel, his eyes growing bigger by the second as he looked at the sudden influx of people dancing around the bonfire.

It seemed like the entire village had collectively decided to join in, couples dancing together and wider circles of people skipping together hand in hand, their chants joining the music, growing louder and louder. Had she not been familiar with Midsommer and its merrymaking, Svala would have thought herself addled by the ale. Eyeing her cup, she shrugged and took another drink, closing her eyes.

The thing she liked the most about Midsommerblót was the music and dancing. Everyone was happy, indulging in the warmth of the summer months, enjoying the fact that it would last for some more still before the return of the cold.

Autumns here were less colorful than in the old country. The pines did not shed their leaves and so they never turned into the bright yellows, oranges and reds Svala had known all her life, but the evergreens held a certain beauty to them. It was mostly noticeable in the winter, when everything else was dead and still, they held on.

The one tree she always found herself drawn to, no matter the season, was the one standing tall behind the fire, its branches sweeping over the clearing, full of the green of summer.

The villagers called it “white oak”, for the light finish of its wood when harvested, and it was magnificent. Svala thought it must have been the oldest tree here, allowed to grow into itself as the clearing was cleared of other trees some centuries ago. In the fall, its leaves turned as bright as the trees of her old home, and she never felt homesick in its presence.

Lost in thought, she jumped slightly when she felt the press of a strong hand at her back, relaxing almost immediately when a deep chuckle sounded from just behind her.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you.”

She turned her head to the side, watching under thick lashes as Elijah’s profile came into view, his high cheekbones highlighted by the glow of the fire. Where they were standing, by the tables, its warmth was more distant, but the shiver that tingled down her spine had nothing to do with the chill. She felt the weight of his hand where it still was, pressed into her back, between her shoulder blades.

His eyes turned to her, taking her in.

Svala had always been beautiful, but tonight, in her red dress, her cheeks warmed by more than just drink, she was even more so. Her grey eyes sparkled when she looked up at him, shimmering in the low light. They were tender, excruciatingly so, wide and open. He felt like he could lose himself to her and it would still feel like home.

She caught her breath, noticing the way his hand slipped lower, pulling her closer until her back rested against his chest. She could still hear the music, but the sound was drowned out by the feeling of his hand caressing down her back, settling on her waist. She was pulled more firmly against him, a possessive touch to the way his fingers dug into her side.

Slowly, Svala finished her drink, setting it down on the table beside her. Seeing that everyone else’s attention was taken up by the feast, she allowed herself to rest against Elijah’s chest, his warmth a comforting presence against her back. Her head came to rest just above his heart. If she focused hard enough, she could feel its beat against her ear. It was steady; as steady as the man it belonged to, and she knew, in that moment, that she was the one who held it.

She felt his chin touch her hair, in a kiss or just resting there, she wasn’t sure. She simply savored the moment—the first one they’d shared since he had helped her down from the newly finished roof her house, preventing her from falling and catching her in his arms.

His arm snaked around her, ensnaring her, his finger splayed on her hip, close to where their bodies touched. She felt that pull again, the same one she always felt when he was near, begging her to bring him closer still, until it felt like she was going to meld herself to him.

Turning in his grasp, Svala brought their joined hands to her lips, kissing his knuckles. Elijah’s breath hitched above her and when she looked up, all she saw before his lips claimed hers was the devotion shining in his eyes.

----------------

“I was looking right at them,” Rebekah said, the mischievous look only a younger sibling could have written all over her face. “I never told Svala, but I couldn’t resist telling Elijah. I never saw him blush harder.” She laughed, shaking her head fondly. “Mostly, we were relieved he’d finally done it; their little courtship was exhausting to watch, honestly.”

The Original looked back at Hayley, eyeing the werewolf. She was calmer, now, less jittery, and more focused on Rebekah. She honestly was’t sure if it was because of her stellar storytelling, or because the other woman was desperate for any morsel of anything related to Elijah. She couldn’t fault her for that; she knew her brother was a hard man to forget, even when it was for the best.

She heard the telltale whoosh of another vampiric presence even before Hayley did, hybrid senses and all.

“I do believe your squeal managed to gather everybody’s attention, sister mine.”

Rolling her eyes, Rebekah looked over at her tyrant of an older brother, busy pouring himself a drink, and nearly snorted at the way Hayley’s own eyes rolled almost all the way back into her skull.

“Thankfully, by this point, everyone was too far gone to see what was really going on,” Klaus said, the twinkle in his eye almost fond as he looked back at her, “but, alas, I wasn’t.”

“Oh yes, because you were never one to indulge.”

Her annoying twat of a brother eyed the drink in her hand meaningfully—her sixth of the evening, she believed. Rebekah shrugged, and he softened. Of all of them, herself and Elijah excepted, Nik had been closest with Svala. She didn’t think her brother would have joined in on their conversation willingly—in fact, she rather thought he would have ran from it.

He did love to surprise her.

“You see, Little Wolf,” he said, the moniker falling easily from his lips, “our brother as he is today, noble to a fault and—if you squint—nearly caring, is revolting enough, but Elijah back then…” he shivered, “now that was positively nauseating.”

----------------

Elijah’s hand cushioned the back of her head against the wood behind her, his grasp there gentle even as his mouth did sinful things to hers, gliding against her lips, teasing her. He’d backed her against the side of house, away from the gathering, when neither of them had been able to contain themselves anymore.

As soon as they had been in relative privacy, Elijah had crusher her to him, framing her face with his much larger hands and kissed her with an urgency Svala had not thought him capable of.

She could not have been more wrong.

His hands were all over her, sweeping over her stomach up to her breasts, and all the way into her hair, tangling in the long strands, bringing her face closer still, his kiss growing more desperate. All it had taken was for her to arch into him, drawing the length of her body against his, for him to press her against the wooden wall, a low moan escaping him.

The tether between them was vibrating, the need to possess and be possessed urging them closer until all they could feel was each other. Her brows furrowed and Svala made a small sound of protest when Elijah pulled away, his breathing ragged against the side of her face. She felt the weight of his hips against hers, the evidence of his desire pressing deliciously on her stomach.

Feeling bold, she let her hands wonder, sweeping over his lean hips and around to pull him towards her, arching into him when he let out another low sound of pleasure. He settled into her embrace, letting her caress up and down his back, the touch more calming than it was meant to arouse and yet managing both at the same time.

She was so small, compared to him, he felt like he could pull her into his arms and no one would ever be able to harm her.

Svala nibbled at his jaw, letting her head fall back to allow him to press slow kisses all along her neck. Breathing in her scent, Elijah let himself fall deeper into her arms, resting most of his much larger weight against her, but she never made a single sound of protest.

They were both breathing more calmly now, letting the heat of their bodies cool before he did something unforgivable and made love to her for the first time right up against her house. Elijah would not let himself go enough to allow for anything else than absolute perfection whenever they did decide on sharing this moment together.

Kissing her collarbone one last time, it took all of his willpower to pull away from her. Svala allowed it, dropping her arms from around his neck until they rested against his sides. He smirked when he realized that she was just as unwilling to part from him completely.

Elijah let himself feel up her body once more, lingering on her soft breasts until he heard her breathing speed up again, and he knew that if she kissed him again, he would forget his resolve and drop to his knees in front of her, hide under her dress and make her forget any other name but his.

The thought alone was the sweetest torture.

For now, he felt contented enough to breath in her scent, pine needles and smoke mixed with the flowers she’d picked this morning, his thoughts turned to a future they would share together.

#the originals #elijah mikaelson #the vampire diaries #tvd #tvdu #elijah mikaelson fanfic #elijah mikaelson x oc #elijah mikaelson x female oc #original female character #vikings #10th century AU #the originals AU #tvd AU #(i guess?)#unreliable narrator

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lulu24784 · 2 years ago

Text

washing machine heart | part 7

"I know who you pretend I am."

[AO3 Link] previous chapter | next chapter

synopsis: | You're absolutely infatuated with Stan Marsh and have even started dating him! It should be a dream come true, but the truth is, he's only with you to make Wendy Testaburger jealous. To help you work through your emotions, you turn to Kenny McCormick, your best friend.

pairings: | kenny mccormick x fem! reader ; stan marsh x fem! reader ; wendy testaburger x stan marsh

cws: | angst, drug use/drug mentions, explicit language, sexual content, unrequited love, mental health themes / sh

everyone is aged up to be 18+

A few hours went by since your conversation with Kenny. Even though he had helped you feel better about your predicament, there was still a thought that kept popping into your mind and demanding your attention. You forced it down and kept on getting ready for your date, picking up a towel and some clean clothing to change into after your shower.

As soon as you entered the shower and felt the hot water trickle down your body, you felt better. You just stood there, your shoulders slack, your head dipped in the water. As you started to wash your hair, your thoughts wandered.

When you told Stan how you really felt, what would he say...? What if he got angry and decided to leave you? Would he comfort you? Ideally, you wanted the latter. But, a gnawing thought kept repeating in your head: “He’s going to leave you!”

No one was ever there for you. You never saw your parents, and Kenny was pretty much the only one that stuck by your side. It was no wonder you clung to the affection Stan gave you. Sure, Kenny flirted with you sometimes, and yeah, it made you feel good.. But it didn’t mean anything. Furthermore, he was generally preoccupied with his normal group of friends, so he couldn’t be there at all times... And despite the fact that you were dating Stan as well, Kyle and Eric never seemed quite comfortable in your company. You figured Kyle just put up with you and Eric...? Yeah, right. You honestly didn’t think anybody felt comfortable being around you. Craig’s group, Wendy’s... Why on earth did Kenny even become your friend? You were a loser.

The more you reflected on it, the more alone you felt. There was an excruciating agony that wouldn’t go away, like a hole had been dug deep into your chest. You let out a long sigh, but it did little to alleviate your pain. Now, more than ever, you just wanted to disappear into nothingness. To free your mind of the ideas that continually assaulted you, no matter what you were doing. Physically, you felt drained and heavy, but emotionally, you were hollow.

You kept washing and rinsing yourself in a slow manner before getting out of the shower, grabbing your towel, and patting yourself dry before wrapping it over you. Feeling the chill of the air, you pulled on the clothes you had prepared. Nothing fancy, just a long skirt and a sweater. You wanted to feel comfortable, even though you felt that dressing up would win Stan’s adoration. You wanted to give him an honest portrayal of who you are as a person... despite the fact that you didn’t even know yourself.

You dried your hair and tied it into a messy braid.

In the mirror, you fixed your gaze on yourself as you meticulously studied every feature of your face. Your eyes, nose, hair, lips, chin, cheeks, and so on...

Disgusting.

You felt like you’d lost any sense of who you were. You glanced away from the mirror with a grimace and hurried into your room, terrified that you might lose your cool and break something. You sat down on your bed and checked the time on your phone. Stan would be there soon. A fleeting sensation of lightness swept through your chest, and it was as if everything you had been feeling had suddenly evaporated. The anticipation of his arrival had you feeling exhilarated and euphoric all of a sudden.

For the first time ever, he was going to be visiting, and you couldn’t contain your enthusiasm! Ah... But you had to speak to him about your thoughts... But, my God! He was going to be in your house! With you! Alone! Just the two of you!

What a dream!

You waited a little before hearing the doorbell ring and hurried downstairs to answer it. Swinging the door wide, you grinned broadly and glanced up at Stan. “Hey!”

“Hey..”

As you welcomed Stan inside, he returned a goofy grin. You saw him scan the room before his gaze locked on yours, and then, without warning, he was hugging you tight. Slightly, his whole body swayed. Your nose was immediately assaulted by the heavy aroma of booze.

Was he drunk?

What the fuck?

You separated from him softly, which prompted a whimper from him. His silly grin never left his face as you escorted him to the sofa and seated him.

“Stan? Were you drinking..? Before our date?”

You spoke quietly, trying your best to maintain your composure.

“Y-Yeah, I... Uh... Yeah,” He heaved an irritated sigh. His speech was slurred, making it difficult to understand him.

“I was just having fun with the boys, playing some video games and all that and well, I guess I lost track of how many drinks I had and now well...” A wide smile spread over his face as he laughed.

“I’m pretty smashed, I guess.”

A wave of that sickening hollowness in your chest swept over you. You had an overwhelming want to shout and cry out.

No.

Just relax! You can still have a good time on this date! You just... Wouldn’t be able to tell him tonight, right? But isn’t this incredibly disrespectful? In this circumstance, what were you even supposed to do?

Stan’s arms gently curled around your waist, and he pulled you close to him. A tiny sigh escaped your lips as you looked at him and gently brushed his face with your thumb.

“Seriously? It’s only 5 o’clock...”

As you stared, his body swayed ever-so-slightly. He most likely would have fallen off the sofa if he didn’t have his arms around you to hold him steady. With a smile on his lips, he pressed his cheek on your stomach.

“Y... Yeah... Only 5 o’clock. It’s only 5 o’clock?” This made him laugh heartily. “Damn, guess time flies, huh?”

“God, you’re really drunk. How did you even make it here?” You muttered as you pulled away from Stan’s hug once again. You helped him lie down on the sofa and kissed his forehead. “Just rest, okay? I’ll get you some water.”

This was ridiculous. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. Seeing him should have made you feel better. You sighed as you pressed the bridge of your nose with your index and middle fingers and shuffled out to the kitchen to bring him a glass of water.

“Don’t worry ‘bou me, babe! I am toootally fine!”

You heard him shout from the living room as you stood in the kitchen, nearly unable to move. You felt the sting of tears in your eyes, but fought them back. It was not the time to be emotional. You needed to look after him. He needed you. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself. Anything to lessen the distress that you were currently facing.

After pulling out your phone, you quickly sent Kenny a text message. He asked you to let him know how the date went before he left so that he could be there for you if things went south. For example, Stan dumping you. Who would have predicted that he would arrive piss-faced drunk? Most certainly not you.

After you finished typing out your message, you immediately went to grab Stan some water.

[Y/N]: He showed up drunk.

Returning to your boyfriend, you sat down next to him on the floor. He was totally out. How awesome. You let out a sigh, placed the cup on the table next to you, and pulled your knees against your chest. You sat there and watched Stan as he relaxed into a deep sleep, his dark hair falling over his face. You thought he was quite adorable like this. A little grin formed on your face, and you relaxed your head on the sofa cushion next to him. You pulled out your phone to send Kenny another text.

[Y/N]: And he passed out lmfao

You sighed, closing your eyes.

“Stupid. I had something important to talk to you about...” you muttered. This situation really sucked. It didn’t help that Kenny wasn’t responding to your texts right away and was instead making you feel even more despondent.

“I thought you were worried I’d leave you...? I wouldn’t, of course, but I mean... That doesn’t mean you can just show up drunk to our date...” You were speaking softly to yourself. You expected no response from him, and that was fine. You were merely making noise to distract yourself from the terrifying thought of being alone. Sadly, it didn’t work out.

“And... Who gets plastered on a fucking Sunday?”

You started crying and then laughed sadly as tears rolled down your face. You definitely have been crying a lot recently.

“Would you have done this to Wendy?”

You cried, watching as Stan stirred in his sleep.

“W... Wendy?”

His voice was low and weary sounding. His brows knit together and you stopped, unable to look away. It hadn’t even been a second before Stan sprung up and started searching the area in a panic.

“Wendy?!”

His eyes were wide for a moment before they relaxed and fixed on you. However, he seemed a bit hurt. You watched as his hand rubbed his temples.

“Shit... Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

It was obvious that he wasn’t quite sober yet because of the little slur in his speech. After pausing to observe him for a bit, you gently turned to collect the cup of water that you had previously brought for him. Without a word, you gave it to him. He thanked you briefly before sipping gently and avoiding eye contact.

Finally, you made the decision to speak.

“Stan, do you still love Wendy?”

He choked, dripping some water on the carpet. “Jesus.” He gasped.

You sat calmly, tears still streaming down your face, and watched. You already knew the answer. All you cared about was hearing it from his mouth. You needed him to tell you. At that particular moment, it felt as if your whole body was responding automatically. Your actions and words were completely out of your control.

“Do you still fucking love Wendy?!”

You clenched your eyes tight in order to avoid seeing his reactions as your hands clung to the fabric of your skirt. The movement of his body indicated that he was uncomfortable. The atmosphere was so tense, you could taste it. It was so strong that you could cut it with a knife. But while he talked, none of it was relevant. At that same instant, it felt as if the sky had fallen in on you and your whole universe. Your ears buzzed with static and your chest tightened with each breath.

“...Y... Yeah.”

You couldn’t look at him, your gaze fixated on your lap, terrified you’d lose it if you looked anywhere else. You started to hyperventilate, and the sobbing continued.

Say something. You need to say something.

You swallowed the knot in your throat and laughed through your tears. Stan’s worried gaze landed on you. You assumed he was looking at you like you had two heads. The tears and laughter. You made a terrible mess of things.

“[Name]... I’m really sorry. I just, y’know... Ah, it’s whatever.”

Still a bit unsteady, Stan stood up.

“It’s p... Probably best we split, hey? I fucked up.” He spoke so softly that you nearly missed it. And there you sat, wide-eyed, near the couch as he walked off to the door.

No.. No no no nononono!!! No! DON’T LEAVE!

“S-Stan!” you cried out, struggling to get to your feet before he could go. “I-It’s okay! I don’t mind! Please!” You wailed, but he ignored you, leaving while shutting the door behind him. “D... Don’t leave me!”

Oh God. Oh God. He actually dumped you. You knew this was going to happen! You knew it! Everyone always left!

You cried out in a loud wail while simultaneously finding hilarity in the situation. You couldn’t believe he showed up to your date drunk and then fucking dumped you like that. To be fair, you did yell at him... But who wouldn’t?! This was just so ridiculous. What the fuck just happened?! That all felt so out of nowhere!

You continued to sob and hyperventilate, reaching for your phone in a trembling attempt to text Kenny.

[Y/N]: he dumped me kenny kenny pls i need you please [1 missed call] [1 missed call] [1 missed call]

There was silence on his end. He wasn’t even picking up when you called. You sat on the ground sobbing uncontrollably, feeling totally defeated.

#south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #stan marsh x reader #lulu works

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prisoner-000 · 11 months ago

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Which trial's song from each prisoner is the better one?

Fun thing I thought I'd ask myself. Since most song vs. song debates come down to character preference how about we just pit one character's songs against each other? Tee hee.

Haruka - All-Knowing and All-Agony is my pick. The piano melody in the background is honestly just breathtaking. As much as I overall like Weakness' guitar and harmonies, i think AKAA is overall the better product.

Yuno - Tear Drop. The chorus just absolutely bangs and the synths are so good. This is a very slight win because honestly Umbilical is kind of on the same level in my mind - they're both similar in the vibes department, but have different strengths. I also have to give props for being the longest T2 song by far.

Fuuta - Backdraft. I'm pretty neutral on Fuuta as a character which makes me not listen to his songs quite as much... Extremely slight win, 'cause I like it's consistent level of energy. Ask me tomorrow and I'll probably say Bring It On (the last chorus especially is so damn good). Fuuta's CV's voice is an absolute treat.

Muu - After Pain. I was obsessed with this song when I first got into Milgram and still kind of am. It just sounds so uniquely 'lonely', conceptually extremely sad and yet somehow cheerful. It fits Muu's character really well. I also love INMF for it's isolated vocal moments where Muu's CV can really bring her all into it, but overall, this is my pick.

Shidou - Triage. I've never liked Throw Down all that much because it's always sounded almost Too normal and neutral to my ears. Triage has this soft melancholy in its instrumental and somber vocals during the verses. And also, that final chorus... OUGH. I can see why someone would prefer Throw Down, though.

Mahiru - I Love You. I really like how this song played with everyone's expectations when the previews came out. Mahiru rapping is so fun and really works compared to the cutesy idol-like chorus. The lines before the final chorus and the double-voiced rap part leading up to it is also fantastic. TIHTBILWY has instruments I like a bit more, but kind of suffers in the interesting concept department IMO.

Kazui - half. Gonna be a contrarian here, but this song has always been one of my favorites. It's very unique in Milgram's selection of songs with its slow, soft melody and almost minimalistic instrumental compared to the others. It sounds sad, Kazui's CV is so soft with his voice and yet expressive. Besides, it's a song about unrequited love. This was made specifically for me I feel. Cat is also really, REALLY good, i love Cat, but. Half. !!!!!!!!!!! I blow up

Amane - PURGE MARCH. DO I NEED TO EXPLAIN MYSELF. I like Magic, but it pales in comparison to this song's mixing, its chanting, its concept, its MV.. GAHH!!! THE AMEN BREAK?????? The verse repeating the 'commandments' over Amane's singing? What else do you want me to say. This is a banger.

Mikoto - MeMe. Harder metal instrumental = me likey. The chorus is gorgeous, and the back-and-forth between the two styles is especially great. I prefer Mikoto's CV's voice in Double, but I can't say I prefer Double because it's just too damn short, not to mention it only being 2 verses and 2 choruses with a long speech break. I love Double, I really do (also because a piano is always good), but... MeMe has the tightest grip on me.

Kotoko - Deep Cover. I've never been the biggest fan of Harrow. I love Deep Cover's gimmick of counting the prisoners and the Undercover mirroring, plus it has Double's appeal with the bridge before the chorus sounding angelic. I wouldn't say I love it, but it's really good.

And . yup. Umm. Feel free to do this too if you'd like and you can fight me on my opinions i am objectively right always. Forever. Btw. Farewell

#prisoner's ramblings #milgram

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writinandcrying · 2 years ago

Text

Dark Corner | Part 2 - Michelangelo x GN Reader

(platonic friendship to something more? who knows, not me!)

Angst. Tw hinted depression, friendship loss, harsh decisions, unrequited love, anxiety, moods swings - mainly due quarantine, and uh- acceptance? melodramatic a little bit lols (i suck at summaries pls act like this is sexy enough to seduce you to read this fic)

songs that helped me write this

Hearing Damage - Thom Yorke

Apesar de Querer - Rodrigo Alarcon

Breezeblocks - Alt J

Snap out of it - Arctic Monkeys

Why We Can’t Be Friends? - The Academic

Eventually - Tame Impala

Chp. 2 - And then it vanished

(Part 1) | (Part 3)

—————————————————————-

“Just rip the bandaid off”

The sudden sound of the weights thumping down floor woke you up for spiraling thoughts, yet, your body hadn't a single reaction out of it, it was normal to get used to abrupt, rapid movements when talking about Raphael, as he grabs his gym towel heading towards the exit, he looks back at you, even without glasses, even with the stinging sensation in the corner of your eyes due unshed tears, you can draw out a mix of angry and disappointed expression.

“If you can’t handle it, then rip the bandaid off”

And that’s what you did.

One thing you knew for sure; Your brain is a bitch. Your memory sucked ass into remembering nice moments: the sensation of kisses, the last good bone- crushing hug you had, the last time your mom said she was proud of you. But agonizing, painful memories? Those were on a loop constantly.

Every strong emotion made Raph’s eyes shine like gemstones, vivid, vibrant, now varnished with disdain, it was beautiful; you hated how you were the reason his golden irises were so gleaming and captivating.

That was 6 months ago, at least you think it was, quarantine sure proved something: time is indeed an illusion that doesn’t make sense. It seems like it was longer than that, although the pain made you grounded as it was yesterday. The last conversation you had with Raphael felt like a sore goodbye on both ends. You wish you could forget it, trick your brain into thinking it’s a happy memory so it can toss it away into the nearest trash.

Looking back at it, you should have fought back. Argued, yelled at him even. You should've made your point about how you didn’t want it to let go. But you were so tired, god- the lifeless sensation of how your body felt back then still phantoms you, it was honestly ridiculous, how a simple phrase could drag you back into the shadows back then. Or maybe you were never truly out of it, just constantly living in the dark, both hyper-aware and oblivious. You didn't know anymore- a sentence, a reaction, someone else even, those could easily remind you how dark your mind could dive, So yeah, you clearly didn’t have any more strength to fight back, who would have known that being in constant fight with your own self would be so arduous? Maybe only you will know how much it took it from you, how desperately you wanted to hold onto it. And maybe that was the problem, there was nothing to hold on to anymore.

During that night, you didn’t know how long you remained glued on the concrete ground after Red left their training room. How long you stared at the gray walls, the foundation of the lair was unsettling cold. It made you feel more isolated than ever, you found yourself unable to control random shivers traveling through your body. You felt small, pathetic. Tears quietly slid from your cheeks to the very end of your chin. You felt invisible, literally, you could identify what the lair residents were up to by your own lack of sound, vague questions and noises that made you feel even more distant and undeserving to be there. You don’t know how long you remained motionless; sitting and staring at nothing, wishing it was different, but not really sure how to change the future.

You don’t know how you managed to drag yourself to the entrance of the lair, you found yourself there at some point of the night, turning back one more time. You loved that place, even if it took ages to get used to the sewer’s damp smell, you still loved it. you have always seen it as home. Sure, it was actually an abandoned intersection of a reservoir sewage station, yet filled with bits of love. Sewer sweet sewer, In every corner, from the dōjō to any repaired piece of furniture, graffiti or neon sign, it was laced with care and devotion. A house could be made of wood, cement or bricks and it was made for shelter, a home means safety, comfort and belonging, a shelter and much more, The lair is a home. was.

Tears ran down your cheeks as you glanced at the Christmas lights above the homemade living room, you remember how you helped them place it there 2 christmas ago, the boys decided not to take it back, it gave a inviting cozy glow, which matched so gracefully with all the wonderful times you had there.

It's strange to desperately have the desire to stay and run away at the same time, pressing your lips tight, inhaling deeply- you were not going to sob your way out of it. Gripping hard at your backpack straps, you know you were going to miss how they made you feel, especially him. Dealing with the lack of it, how it became a foreigner feeling once again was one of the toughest parts during this whole fiasco of…. whatever was left remaining between the two of you, only some fond memories lingered, for a while those were the source of warmth during silent nights, but lately, it was a fuel to a abyss you could not stand being in it no more.

When your friendship with Mikey first started, you initially thought ‘that's it, that's something to treasure forever.’ How can two people be so close one day, to complete strangers in a course of some weeks still perturbs your mind and heart to this day.

Mikey wasn’t home when you arrived that day, your first intention was to talk out your last text messages, You weren’t sure how the conversation would start, or if it would even flow at all, you truly missed the times you could just talk about anything to him finding a topic to bond over was as easy as breathing air. He’d be busy. He needed to train, or out with his new friends. As usual,you were always the understanding friend, you knew everyone has their daily duties and hell, being the overbearing clingy friend? No, thank you.

You and Mikey were different, at least you thought so, it was ok to be vulnerable with him, and him to you, you shared how you always held back truly connecting with others, afraid of how dependable you could become. You’ve seen it firsthand how much that could hurt, Mikey made you feel that you could trust, that you could rely on him, and for once you believed it.

The first time you felt the unsettling vibe of not being so welcomed anymore was heart wrenching, even by now, you thought you would get used to it. It happened too many times for you to “not receive an invitation”, to be forgotten over hangouts, to being left out of jokes. You knew way too well the thin line between hanging out and being invited over pity.

That’s how you ended up talking to Raphael, maybe wasn’t the starter choice, he was a good friend, sure, but not the greatest with words. Leo and Don would have tried to understand your end at the time. but Raph was closest with Mikey. He saw how sometimes your unspoken, pitiful- whatever the hell this”friendship” is could gut his little brother. Mikey had intense feelings just like Raph, he understood him, and at the end, he would choose his side over yours.

You looked at the lair one last time, trying to preserve what you know you couldn’t have anymore: the warm welcomings, laughing until 5 in the morning, Mario Kart competitions, you name it. As you choke out a cry and walk towards the exit, what were good memories are now too painful to be felt and be remembered, although you already knew that it would haunt you constantly.

Only if you knew a certain turtle, who’s very fond of the color purple, watched and listened to it all in his lab. All of it. All 6 months of it.

Donatello’s top 5 regrets was not coming after you when you ran out crying, if he only knew this would drag into months on end, he would tackle you in a hug and tell you that you are indeed going to be missed, the time he wished to respect your privacy, looking back now, he knew it was a bad move on his end, Donnie was too used to observation and theories, that in this moment the situation needed a bit more action.

When you first befriended the turtles, there was an unspoken contract that they would track every move of you, for your safety and theirs as well.Donatello still had trackers on your personal turtle device, all of their humans friends had turtle-watches, not only for safety or rapid contact, but it also tracked vital signals, indicating any problems or disturbances about their friend's health.

So, when Donnie didn't see both of you and Mikey hanging out weekly, he didn’t think much of it, maybe you were just busy. But,when your signals started to point signs of bad nutrition, he got worried. When it showed a barely fictional human being, followed by hasty, god-awful goodbye (the courtesy of his older brother) he got obsessed with checking on you at least 4 times a week.

When your tracker suddenly shut down, he knew it was bad.

A different sound emitted from Donnie’s lab one quiet morning, a sound that if you have paid close attention, never went off before, this could have gone unnoticed because well, It’s Donnie. Every month he was working on something new, so maybe that was it, right?

By the way the second youngest flew out off the living room couch and, almost knocking Leo as he passed by, it truly showed the severity of the distinct sound.

"You have been away from your lab for 15 minutes and there's already a "situation?" Leo stood by the lab door, watching his brother's fingers work frantically while his eyes didn’t leave the monitors.

"Yes, i'm overachieving" Donnie replied, Leo cautiously approached, truth to be told, he wasn’t fond of Donnie’s lab. Sure, it was great for secret sharing, strategy talk, toaster fixing area, yes. However, the possibility that any sudden movements there might result in catastrophe made Leonardo feel uneasy to say the least. His movements were always precise inside his brother's favorite Lair spot. Don finally guided Leo's eyes with a short nod after a intrigued "So?" left his lips, a main notification wouldn't budge from the screen, your tracker wasn't on anymore.

The leader reached for his katana instinctively, ready to head towards the door. He felt a firm hand hold his bicep

"Pump the breaks, I don't think that's necessary", Leo raised a brow, Donnie was already familiar enough to understand how his brother was once again, questioning what on Earth he was on about - "I have been... monitoring them." Casting his eyes down, Don doesn't like to call it stalking, neither does his older brother, due the circumstances of their reality, they needed to keep an eye out, just to be to safe, That's what they would always say in the back of their heads. "I think they disconnected themself"

"Can you handle this?" Leo asked looking back towards the door to check if anyone was around. Donnie told him what happened that day, infuriated was a nickname for how the oldest felt after hearing about it.

Raphael didn't had any right to treat you like that, but he also knew if they argued about this, Michelangelo would find out, and the possible outcomes of it weren't pretty. He did make sure to be somewhat transparent about his knowledge over the secret quarrel, glancing towards Raphael if someone questioned your sudden dissapearance.

Truth to be told, Leo had no idea what to do. Figuring emotional, sentimental matters isn't his strong suit, and talking with Master Splinter would only raise red flags all around the situation. So they kept the situation under the rug. only if he knew what was going on between the two of you would drag it for months, he truly wished he had done something sooner.

"Yeah," Donnie remembers clearly how crushed you looked back then. Was it fair to visit you? To make you relive all those unpleasant memories?

"I hope so." His carapace met the cushion of his favorite chair followed by a drawn-out sigh as silence settled between the two brothers.

Honey colored eyes turned back into the monitors, Donnie knew briefly how you managed to get by these past months. From monitoring subway stations you caught towards work, to hijacking the local market surveillance cameras. he was glad that you were indeed getting by or so it seems. Again, he doesn't like to call it stalking. It's not like he watches you 24/7, maybe, 16/7? Weekly checkups? Just to make sure you are alright, that's what friends do, right?

Donnie felt a light hand over his shoulder, followed by a pair of sorrowful yet sympathetic Imperial blue eyes, "Tell they have been missed." A half-smile graces Leo’s features. There was mutual sentiment between them. Just because you were mainly Michelangelo's (former) best friend, doesn't mean you didn't leave a print on everyone else.

"Shall do." Donnie responds with an uncertain smile as he stares back into the monitors. Quickly gathering his gear, it was already nighttime. Soon enough they all needed to headout.

Don sneaked towards the garage entrance by Leo's guidance, he had exactly 48 minutes before patrol, he could be at your place in exactly 9 minutes and 36 seconds, 7 minutes if there was no humans luckering on closest manhole’s alleys to your place, Don lips grow thin and firm, is 38 minutes and 24 seconds is enough to cover a 6 month silence between all of you?

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(next) | (previous)

comments and feedbacks are welcomed!! and thank you @melancholysway for being so helpful into making this scenario possible!

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #dark corner #giulia writes #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tcest dont interact i swear to god.#tmnt scenario #tmnt fandom #tmnt headcanons #tmnt fanfiction

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heretherebedork · 2 years ago

Note

I'm so distrustful of both Ben and Chopper from Never Let Me Go, but I'm also so devastated for them. Chopper's unrequited love and unsaid longing, which I suspect Ben has at least a little inkling of (I may be wrong though) because Ben seems quite intelligent to me. He is slightly manipulative too and also gaslights (for example his convo with Palm). Ben is definitely an interesting character. And then the way Chopper described Ben to Nueng, it's just all so intriguing! Chopper appears to be a really nice guy so far, I would go to say under the circumstances he seems kinda "too nice". But then sometimes, it's juxtaposed with that blank expression like when he shoots after Nueng leaves at the shooting range, giving him quite the antagonist vibe. But I don't know really if he is truly the bad guy or just the anti-hero. Although all of this is just adding to the fun, I guess! And lastly, I never thought Perth and Chimon would work, but surprisingly I am completely invested in their pairing.

Bonus, their superior acting skills clearly don't hurt the story.

I don't think Chopper is the bad guy at all, honestly. I think he's a good guy stuck in a bad situation and with a lot of bad influences around him and a lot to deal with.

Ben, I suppose I'm not totally sure about. But I think Ben is more... manipulative sunshine to cover a lot of pain rather than manipulative for the sake of manipulative. Those are different things.

I think Ben genuinely likes and loves Nueng. I think he genuinely wants to date him and his actions towards Palm are the same as Nueng's outbursts, manipulation from pain and from fear and from a need to be the first one in Nueng's heart.

I genuinely think they're both, in their hearts, good people who are caught in circumstances beyond their own control and that are breaking their own hearts in ways they can't stop.

Chopper is supporting Ben but he's tearing himself apart. Ben is trying to push Palm down because he wants that spot at Nueng's side.

I think Ben is unloved at home, rejected for who he is and pushed down by the people who should be lifting him up instead and so he clings to the idea of Nueng returning his love... only for that to be destroyed by his father (as we can see next episode).

I think they might end up in a more antagonistic role but not by their own choice but rather by the force of their fathers pushing them down and pushing them there, into a role they don't want and can't sustain.

I think Chopper now views Nueng as a love rival rather than just a cousin. It's not about being too nice, it's about realizing that the person he loves loves someone else and that he knows that someone else. It's the same way, again, that Nueng had the whole outburst with Palm flirting.

Chopper is a strange mix of Nueng and Palm, honestly, supportive outwardly but absolutely being torn apart internally by jealousy and a desperate yearning for love that he doesn't know how to express.

While Ben found the courage to confess but is now going to have that ripped away from him by his father.

There's a lot going on here and a lot of it is going to get complicated and I really wonder where they're going to go with the multiple layers of relationships.

#never let me go #never let me go the series #nlmg #chopperben #chopper x ben

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sophiie2000 · 2 years ago

Text

She Should Be With Me ~ Soryu

Hey Guys!😊

Back with the 3rd story as part of this set, and this time it's Soryu!🥰

As always, I have included the link to the prologue below!⬇️⬇️

So far I have previously posted Eisuke's and Mamoru's stories! 💕

So this is...

Soryu x MC

A story of jealousy and fluff 😊

Disclaimer ~ Characters belong to Voltage Inc

~3857 words

It was as though time had stopped. Being a mobster meant Soryu had faced his fair share of danger. He had stared down the barrel of a gun, numerous times, and had participated in many shoot outs. The man had walked the fine line between life and death too many times to count. Yet the words that had just left MC’s lips left him frozen. Time stood still.

He was relieved that no one seemed to notice how his pulse had spiked. He could hear the drumming of his heart in his ears, blocking out any other surrounding sounds. His eyes focused intently on the only woman who had ever held his heart captive.

Soryu had always hated women. Their weakness, the smell of their perfume, the sound of their voices. He hated it all. Yet meeting MC had softened the cold mobster’s heart. Finally allowing himself to open up to a woman. Finding the only woman who did not irritate the man.

He never expected to fall in love with MC when they met a few years ago. But how could he not? After all, she was different to the others. A fact Soryu learned when they chose MC to help him out.

It all started when Soryu told Eisuke of the dilemma he and the Ice Dragons were facing. Another mob boss was sending his daughter over to meet with the Ice Dragons in the hopes of forming an alliance. During that time, Soryu was tasked with ensuring her safety while discussions took place.

As such he needed another female. One who could keep the daughter company during the day, and when needed attend meetings in her stead, allowing Soryu to prevent any potential harm coming to the mob boss’s daughter.

After showing Eisuke a photo of the guest, Eisuke immediately suggested one of the newer maids he had hired. She looked similar and had shown a feistier and braver side compared to most women he had met. Perfect for this job.

When Soryu met MC, she had been confused as to why he would want her, a complete stranger, to assist him. Nonetheless, she readily agreed to support him. Even when Soryu attempted to intimidate her in a way the other mob members would, she did not flinch. She held his look, returning one of her own. She really was different, he thought.

In the month she assisted him, MC kept the visiting daughter company during the day, and attended meetings at night. Due to their close proximity during this month Soryu and MC had come to learn much about each other. They soon found a mutual love for detective novels, discussing new and old releases frequently. MC even tried recommending some of the movies to Soryu, often dragging him to see new releases with her.

What surprised Soryu was how, rather than being annoyed with MC’s presence and insistence, he cherished those moments together. He looked forward to the next. He soon came to crave their time together.

So much so, when it came time for him to no longer need MC’s assistance, he still kept her around. Discussing detective novels became their daily conversation when they bumped into each other around the hotel. They would meet up regularly for coffee or to go see the new releases of these movies.

Soon Soryu introduced her properly to the other bidder’s, although this was punishment due to him losing a game of poker to Eisuke. It didn’t take long for the other guys to love spending time with MC just as much as he did.

However, just as Soryu realised he had fallen in love with MC and was prepared to tell her, he learned the devastating fact that she had a boyfriend. And he settled himself to endure the pain of an unrequited love.

As the years had gone by, Soryu had fallen more deeply in love with MC. He still cherished his moments with her discussing and swapping novels. Seeing films. He really had settled to love her from afar.

Yet sometimes, just sometimes, he saw something in the looks she gave him. The smiles she shared. That something, giving him hope that maybe, just maybe, she may also have a part of her that she longed to share with him. But these looks were always gone as quickly as they appeared. Soryu was always left wondering, had he imagined those looks?

As Soryu watched the others questioning MC over her decision to move in with her boyfriend, he heard as the final bombshell was dropped.

“So,while I really am grateful for the promotion Eisuke, I, uh, I may have to start looking for a new job… the apartment Mason chose for us… it is quite far away and while I can travel in at the moment, it would be best for me if I were to work closer to our home…” MC spoke, the sadness evident in her voice.

“Do you want to leave?” Eisuke asked, looking at MC in shock.

“It’s not that I want to, but it would be closer to home” She responded, the pain of these words, crystal clear in her glossy eyes.

“Then don’t” Soryu couldn’t help but interrupt. Everyone turned their eyes to him, and he finally realised what he had done. “Look… he chose the place, and now you’re going to have to leave a job you love and your friends? I don’t think you should go…”

Following that last remark, Soryu left the penthouse behind, everyone’s eyes following him. His departure and the other bidder’s distraction, meant no one noticed as MC held a hand to her chest as her eyes followed Soryu affectionately. Her heart rate increasing at his sudden declaration.

A couple of weeks had passed since MC had informed everyone that she would be seeking a new job. Everyone had been tiptoeing around the matter. No one wanting to discuss her impending departure. Particularly when Soryu was around. And he was more than aware of their conscious efforts to avoid discussing the topic of MC leaving when he was present.

The penthouse lounge would go quiet when he entered the room anytime MC was being discussed. Soryu felt the tense, sympathetic looks the others gave him. He didn’t want or need their sympathy. He just wanted them to treat him normally. And he wanted MC to stay.

He had thought, as long as she was close by, he could watch her from a distance. Sharing in their daily conversations… that would be enough for him. If she were to leave, he would lose even that small comfort. It was a comfort he was desperate to keep.

Today was like any other day for Soryu. He and MC had arranged to meet for a coffee to discuss the latest detective stories they had been reading, and have a general catch up.

Soryu sat at their usual table. The book he had been reading sat closed atop the table. The story had been about the disappearance of a teenage girl, whose body was later discovered in a woodland in the countryside. Two detectives were tasked were finding the culprit. Before the end of the book, two more teenage girls went missing and were later discovered, one by a canal and the other beside the motorway. Soryu had enjoyed the story, and was looking forward to discussing the book with MC, since she had been the one to recommend the book to him.

The bell on the café door chimed, and MC walked in. The moment she spotted Soryu her face lit up with a smile as bright as the morning sunrise. Soryu’s features softened in return. His heart beating at a slightly faster pace at her arrival.

“Soryu! I hope you weren’t waiting too long!” MC stated, apologetic for arriving after Soryu.

He shook his head, pulling her chair out for her. Truthfully, he had been their long enough to enjoy two coffee’s already, excited to see her. But he wouldn’t be telling her that.

A waitress brought over two coffee’s as if she had been waiting for the moment MC arrived to do so, leaving the pair to settle into a friendly discussion. It didn’t take long for them to be so enthralled in their discussion that the minutes turned to an hour, and one coffee had become two then three.

As MC finished her coffee, she smiled at Soryu.

“What?” Soryu asked, a nervous blush staining his cheeks.

“Nothing, it’s just nice… being able to talk with you like this… I’ll… I’ll miss it” MC whispered the words, pain once again showing itself on her features.

“Miss it?” Soryu asked, genuinely bewildered by her statement.

“You know… when I’m gone” tears had begun to fill MC’s eyes, she seemed to curl in on herself. The brightness she usually displayed had dimmed slightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous MC” Soryu snapped, surprising both himself and MC.

She stared at him in shock. In the years MC and Soryu had known one another, since becoming friends, he had never lost his temper or raised his voice at her. Not once. Yet here he was, his emotions high, getting angry.

“I’m not being ridiculous Soryu! Once I have a new job, I won’t be at the hotel anymore. If I’m not there anymore, then I won’t see you guys anymore!” MC replied, equally frustrated.

“THEN DON’T LEAVE!” Soryu shouted, his eyes filled with anguish, yet he couldn’t control how he seemed to burn with anger.

His heart hurt more, when he saw the tears become too heavy for MC to prevent them from falling. Words failed him when she dumped some money on the table, grabbed her bag and ran from the café. He could only stare vacantly at the chair she had been sat in only moments earlier.

Why had he raised his voice? If that was the last outing they were to share… why did he have to raise his voice. Why did he have to make her cry?

Soryu clenched his hands into tight fists. His nails dug into his palms, leaving deep indentations in the skin. Yet the pain was nothing compared to the ache in his heart.

A couple more weeks had passed, and Soryu hadn’t seen or spoken to MC since she fled the coffee shop. She wasn’t answering his calls, responding to his messages, and he hadn’t seen her around the hotel. He was beginning to feel uneasy without her presence. Was she ok?

As he entered the penthouse lounge he noticed the others surrounding Eisuke, a sheet of paper sitting on the table in front of them. The upset on their faces told Soryu that whatever it was, they didn’t like it.

“What’s that?” Soryu asked, approaching the group.

“MC resigned. With immediate effect.” Eisuke replied, eyes fixed on the letter in front of him.

“What? Didn’t you stop her?” Soryu asked, his heart rate spiking.

“I would have if I had spoken with her! She left the letter here. She didn’t even say goodbye.” Eisuke responded, the frustration in his voice clear.

Soryu finally looked at the letter. The words on the page were in MC’s neatest writing. Her signature at the end.

‘Dear Mr Ichinomiya,

Firstly, I would like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to work for a hotel with such a high esteem as the Tres Spades.

In the years I have been here, I have grown as an individual vastly, learned valuable skills, and made numerous friends.

When you offered me the promotion recently, I was overjoyed. I loved working here at the hotel, and to be noticed for my skills was a privilege and compliment I do not take lately.

It is with a heavy heart, that due to travel issues, I hand in my letter of resignation. Resigning with immediate effect.

Kindest Regards,

P.S… I’m sorry I could not say goodbye to you all. Situations at home have meant I needed to leave sooner than I had expected. Seeing you all would have made leaving that much harder, and I couldn’t have you refusing my resignation. You guys have been my closest friends for the last few years, and I will always be grateful to you all. Goodbye, MC x’

The letter was short and sweet. But what struck Soryu was her mentioning situations at home. Were her and Mason having problems?

“Eisuke… are you really going to let her leave that easily?” Soryu grunted, hoping his friend would be the one to do something so he could keep his own personal feelings guarded longer.

“No.”

“EISUKE!” Soryu shouted, his frustration at MC leaving once again bubbling over.

“Soryu, she made a decision. As her friend I have to respect it. But as your friend I will do you one curtesy” Eisuke replied, his signature smirk on his face.

“What?”

“3 weeks. Find her in 3 weeks, be honest with her, and if she comes back we will treat it as though she was on holiday. If in 3 weeks she isn’t back, I will formally process and accept her resignation”

3 weeks. That’s all he needed. He nodded his thanks to Eisuke, and dialled Inui’s number as he walked out from the penthouse.

“Hey Inui, I need people looking for MC. Find where she is, and tell me. ASAP. We only have 3 weeks.”

Hope filled Soryu. No matter what she says, at the end of these 3 weeks… he will finally have told MC he loves her. His feelings would no longer be shackled away.

“Boss, she’s working in a coffee shop called La Casetta del Caffè”

The words stopped Soryu where he was. 2 weeks. 2 weeks they had been searching for MC and now they had finally found her.

Soryu was determined he would waste no more time. He picked up a bouquet of roses and raced to the coffee shops where MC was working.

As he entered the coffee shop, he saw her. He felt his heart fill with anticipation. It had been a month since he heard her voice. A month since she had run out of that coffee shop.

Running a hand through his tousled hair, he smoothed his jacket down, approaching the counter.

“Welcome to La Casetta del Caffè, what can I get you?” MC said smiling, but when she finally looked up, her smile fell. The sight of Soryu, someone who should not be there, surprised her.

“Hey MC” Soryu said, showing her a small smile, a blush stained his cheeks.

She was a beautiful as he remembered. It sounded ridiculous. Of course, she was, it had only been a month. But that month had felt like eternity to him. His heart broke more each day they were apart. Yet seeing her now, he felt whole again.

“W-what are you doing here?” MC asked, she was surprised but she could hide the happiness seeing Soryu brought her.

“I need to talk to you; what time does your break start?” Soryu asked, when a kind looking older gentleman responded.

“MC, you can go on your break now if you like” He smiled and looked toward Soryu, “I hope you treat her a bit better than that other one!” the man huffed and went back to serving customers.

Soryu looked to MC confused.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you outside with a coffee in 5 minutes ok?” Soryu nodded in reply, heading outside, as MC began preparing two coffees.

MC brought the two coffees outside and sat opposite Soryu at the table. Sitting outside offered them some privacy, away from the prying eyes of the customers and owner.

“So… what are you doing here?” MC asked.

“First… these are for you.” Soryu said, handing MC the roses he had bought before arriving. Surprised, MC accepted the bouquet, smelling the flowers.

“They’re beautiful… thank you” MC smiled.

“And I really do need to talk to you…”

“Ok, sure…” MC replied nervously.

“Please, don’t say anything until I’ve finished. I’ve wanted to say a lot of this for a long time.” MC nodded and Soryu continued, “Firstly, I’m sorry for shouting at you when we went out before. I was hurting knowing you were leaving, that didn’t give me a right to shout at you, but I need you to know, it was from a place of pain about losing you that cause my outburst.”

Soryu sighed, looking up before continuing.

“And secondly. When I said I didn’t want you to leave, I meant it. But I didn’t mean it in the way the others were meaning it. I wasn’t going to miss you because you were my friend. I was going to miss you, and didn’t want you to leave, because… because I love you. MC I’ve been in love with you for almost as long as I have known you. I’m utterly crazy about you, and I thought just having you near was enough, that I would never need to tell you how I feel, but then you left and I realised I messed up never telling you.”

“Soryu…”

“Look, MC… Eisuke gave me 3 weeks. 3 weeks to tell you how I feel. 3 weeks to try convince you to come back. If you come back by Friday next week… they’ll ignore your resignation letter. You can come back like you never left. But if you don’t… if you don’t return by Friday, he will formally process your resignation.”

When he finished Soryu stood. He smiled at MC, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“I’ll be in the hotel all day Friday… I… I hope you come back MC”

Following his remark, he began walking, before turning towards the café door where the owner quietly stood.

“Sir, I don’t know what incident you were referring to, but I assure you, if she chose to come to me, I would treat her with the utmost respect and care. That, I promise you.” Smiling once at MC, Soryu walked away and headed back for the Tres Spades.

If he had turned to look, he may have noticed as the tears fell from MC’s eyes, the kind smile she showed him as he walked away, and the hand she held to her chest.

A week had passed. It was now Friday. MC had not visited once, nor had she contacted any of them. Yet Soryu held onto that glimmer of hope that she would come.

Soryu sat in the penthouse lounge waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Seconds turned to minutes. The minutes turned to hours. Still MC had not arrived. It was getting later, and the others who had sat with him at various points during the day had returned to their own rooms.

8pm… she isn’t coming, is she… Soryu thought. Rising to his feet, he headed towards his own suite. Disappointment and hurt filled his heart. He really believed she would come back. He really believed, she should be with him.

When he arrived back in his suite, he poured himself a large brandy. He wasn’t normally one to drown his sorrows, but today, he wanted to drink until he forgot why he was hurting.

He sat on his sofa, head in his hands. The pain all he could think about. Until…

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A knocking on his door grabbed his attention. Who on earth would be knocking on his suite door now? If it was Baba or Ota, he swore to God he would pull his gun out so quickly. Yet the sight that greeted him made his eyes bulge and mouth drop open.

“Sorry I’m so late, it took a while to pack and then I needed to meet with Eisuke!” MC stood before him, a small suite case in her hands.

“MC!” Soryu exclaimed, pulling her into a tight crushing embrace. “You… you came back”

“I choose happiness” MC whispered, returning Soryu’s embrace. “And… you never let me respond to what you told me last week.”

Soryu pulled back slightly. He looked around the corridor to make sure the others weren’t spying on them, before dragging MC into his room.

They sat together on the sofa. Soryu kept his arms around MC as they snuggled close.

“So… first tell me what that man meant when he said he hoped I would treat you better?”

“Ah… that. Mason wanted me to quit the hotel. He argued about it, a lot. When I finally quit, and found the job at the café he came in on my second shift and screamed at me in front of the customers and owner about how I wasn’t working in a proper job and so we had less money coming in. I was mortified and the owner stepped in. He had moved me away from my job and friends and still had the audacity to moan about me not having as much money coming in. That was the end of things, it was the final straw.”

“That explains that one…” Soryu replied, he felt his own anger at the way MC’s ex had felt he could treat her. “So… you’re back?”

“Yep, Eisuke was happy to see me when I walked through the door. He wasted no time getting me to make him a coffee” MC giggled.

“I’m glad you’re back where you belong, MC” Soryu smiled, stroking soft MC’s hair.

“Thank you Soryu… and I need to tell you something”

Soryu nodded looking at the back of MC’s head as she sat leaning back against his chest.

“The truth is… I’ve had these strange feelings about you for a very, very, long time but it wasn’t until I left and you came to the café and told me how you felt that I truly understood what these feelings were. The truth is, Soryu… I’m in love with you, too. You make my heart race, I enjoy our conversations about things we both like. But most importantly, I enjoy being with you.”

“MC…”

“I love you, Soryu…”

“I love you, too!” Soryu exclaimed, crushing MC to his chest.

Overcome with emotion, Soryu lifted MC into his arms turning her to face him. His hands took her cheeks between them, and guided her lips to his. Their first kiss was soft, and gentle.

But it took no time, before they were overcome with passion, and their kiss deepened. The emotions he had been holding back all these years, Soryu finally placed in those kisses. That tame first kiss, soon became deep, intense kisses. If they were to signify anything, it was that a long, steamy night was ahead.

When Soryu woke the following morning, he smiled. In his arms he held the still sleeping MC. Relief flooded him. It hadn’t been a dream. She really had returned to them. To him. The woman he had adored from afar for the last few years, was finally his.

The cold mobster had found the one woman who could bring out his soft side. And now he had her, he was certain, he would never be letting her go.

#kbtbb fanfic #kbtbb soryu #kbtbb #kissed by the baddest bidder #voltage games #voltage otome #voltage inc #voltage fanfic #soryu oh #love 365 #fanfic #fluff

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jaysflix · 2 years ago

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Unrequited (I-II)

Chapter I, 𖤐 Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

Part 1, Chapter 2 𖤐 Whatever Burns, Burns Internally Genre: Romance, drama Pairing(s): Terzo/Reader, Copia/Reader Chapter Synopsis: The sun brings a new day, but not a bright one. Terzo needs to recollect his memories of last night. If recalling correctly, he needed to do something important.

Notes: I was planning on making this chapter longer but the second half of it seemed out of place, plus I feel guilty for having to make everyone wait a week for another chapter. Im sorry for the lack of progression in this one. I hope you enjoy nevertheless!

Warnings: drugs/drugged, vomit, choking, angst, sexual themes

3k words

The office was cold. Wood stained with a dark finish, and every corner dusted to perfection. Sister always knew how to be well-kept just like she always knew how to run a business. The clergy stands so strong because of her fine work. She doesn’t let anything go to waste, rather she has a purpose for every little thing in the church. And everyone in it was just a little pawn to her big plans. Soon the world will understand their ways, but they need something new. Something intriguing. Something that can lure the minds of great ones in their direction. Sister cannot do it alone, and it is why Terzo has been summoned.

They’d been discussing his promotion for a while now, hinting greatly at his Papacy through the media. Secondo’s time was coming to an end, decided by Sister because of his lack of upbringing and the abundant amount of girls he’s brought home into his room with no explanation whatsoever. His ways were ridiculed, which is why Sister turned to Terzo almost immediately. She never really had faith in Secondo anyway. Terzo knew deep down that she had the same views as him, and he understood that needed a new progeny immediately. What he didn’t understand was why she chose you specifically.

Terzo wanted to groan as Sister poured another drink for him. He guessed that she was unaware of his already drunken state because, in the presence of someone as powerful as she, he was always good at pretending.

“A shame Papa could not be present today.” A deep purple drained like silk down his glass. He watched the thickness fill what felt close to the rim, humming in response to fill the murderous silence,

“I suppose so,” Terzo replied, hesitant to take a sip. He’d been thinking too much lately. It was not good for his mind, and the wine was certainly making it harder to stop. Thoughts are dangerous. They start merely as innocent as a blanket of snow before the sun casts its treacherous beams and wilts the land till it’s nothing but mush. It is why Terzo never had a rational thought in his life. It’s easier to do things as they come rather than rethink and overthink them.

The purple coated thick in his throat, a close resemblance to that of blood. Though it lacks the metallic taste, there was a definite sting, like acid burning his organs. Was this even wine, or was his sight so impaired he’d mistaken the wine glass for whiskey? No alcohol should be this strong, honestly, he thought. It never left a good feeling on his tongue, and brushing his teeth after was always a pain because the taste always remained in the back of his throat. Then in the morning, all his taste buds burned away and left a bad feeling, but that could also just be his breath.

Either way, he hated it.

Surprisingly, Terzo always preferred something on the easier side. Mixed drinks were a personal favorite, as long as he couldn’t taste the alcohol. For a man of his age, he certainly had a childish palate. Simplicity was the thing he enjoyed in life. Extravagance was a privilege, so choosing the fancier things seemed right. Might as well take advantage of the things he’ll only have once in his life. Terzo can’t remember the last time he ate the same meal twice. Not even leftovers. Not even Papa, but still a prince in this court just because his blood was pure, unmatched. Almost priceless.

Good lord. He was thinking again.

Sister noticed. It didn’t take long, considering the fact he was silent, ignoring her ongoing rant about what is right, blah blah this blah blah that. The blue tint of her office started to garnish with a low grey. He sank into the cushion beneath him unwillingly. The seat was eating him alive. Other pieces of furniture waited still, and the glass in his hand was clean. No trace of his drink was left behind, yet Sister’s glass occupied the desk, still full.

The weight of his head began to expand too much for his shoulders, but an unfamiliar rage in his lower stomach also began to build until it took over. Desperation nailed to the armrests of his chair, gripping for stability. All of him felt bound to explode. This feeling, so gnawing. Many thoughts began to pour. Even his faulty brain couldn’t handle the distress. It was a smothering black smoke he could not rid of, and too dense to call in professionals. Shall he die within the mist of his desires? Sister didn’t see why not. She saw him attempt to recollect himself; to remember his sole purpose of her game. Another pawn will spawn.

Terzo was burning with lust and desire, not in the way he liked. There was something in the drink, he realized. This was no time to be feeling this way. No, this passion mixed with utter hatred was not a good look. He needed an escape, but queens don’t set their men free without a fight.

His grip became tighter around the arms, back pressed firmly against the seat.

“Once Secondo returns delightfully so, your final duty begins,” Terzo hadn’t even realized his choking until he tried to speak. His eyes widened with shock, and his gloved hand made its way to his throat. The acidic feeling grew, melting its way through his veins. Hacking his way off the chair, Terzo knocked everything over in a panic. Glasses, stationery, and his chair were all sprawled across the floor. A high-pitched ring only worsened his state.

Sister eyed him, unfazed by his reaction. “I expect things to go well tonight. Do not disappoint me.” Terzo could only choke out a low groan, seeking the nearest exit. The halls felt narrow. There were too many turns that only led to the same place over and over again. He needed water. Anything to drown it out.

He’d been taken over by infatuation so dangerous, containing himself was war. A war he refused to let you witness. And a war he could not defeat.

The halls didn’t stop spinning until he could taste the cold tile floors. For a second, it all seemed so still. Terzo considered laying here, perhaps forever. He was entirely too exhausted to face what the future promised. If he could just lay here for a second longer, maybe even ten minutes, to recollect himself. Sister made herself very clear. the emphasis of her last words rang in his ears. Is there a way out? Where was the Cardinal?

For the first time in his life, he couldn’t help but feel ever so lonely. And he’s always been surrounded by people, but these people are incapable. Impotent.

Terzo was powerless.

When he woke, he didn’t remember any of the events taking place that night. The last memory was coming back to see you. There was a strange feeling he remembered like he needed to see you and he didn't know why. A throbbing ache pounded in his head, ushering for him to shield himself from the light and the soft sound of your voice. He froze. Your voice.

Terzo lifted his upper half from the couch, turning to see you standing worriedly before him. You were still dressed in white. The light from the window behind you added a soft glow to your clothing. Like an angel in his presence, so gentle and sweet, and resembling honeysuckles growing with no guilt nor shame during spring’s prime. He could smell the sweet nectar from his position, wishing to taste your natural flavor. If you stood any closer, he promised to be gentle as he sucked away your innocence from the bud. Your beauty left him speechless. Oh. Now he remembered why he yearned to visit you. A rush of memories came flooding back to him, and that acidic feeling he hated so much returned as well. From the pit of his stomach, traveling toward the roof of his mouth.

Terzo tripped over his own legs in attempt to get up. Quickly, he searched for anything to catch his own fluids before it spewed all over the lavish furniture. The porcelain throne was nowhere to be found in the midst of his panic, but your guidance led him through the other side of his room. Your reaction time was prompt, though it was a struggle to trudge over your dress to the bathroom. As soon as you reached inside, Terzo hunched over, coughing out every bit of poision he’d ingested the night before. It was thicker than the wine, almost pasty. He shuddered at your touch when you attempted to soothe him, almost motherly. When his senses began to return, he finally heard what kindness you had to say.

“Are you alright?” Terzo was practically panting. He reached over to push down the lever, flushing away whatever erupted from his mouth. His headache remained, only the warmth of your words soothing the pain for a second.

You saw him glance over at you, pupils blown. It was terrifying, to say the least, identical to the eyes of a predator. There was definitely something he was trying to suppress, and your company didn’t alleviate the pressure. A low groan escaped his lips in dissatisfaction. In a raspy voice, he ordered,

“Leave, and lock yourself in the bedroom.” He never gave you that tone before. Something about it sounded frustrated, not at you but at himself. It was almost a warning. Confused, you decided not to ask questions, scared he would turn against you. Frankly, the two of you never had the closest connection. Even with Copia, it seemed Terzo wouldn’t acknowledge you only if it was to give you a small greeting. Maybe he hated you. No, that’s irrational. There isn’t possibly a single thing you’ve done to earn his hatred. Besides, yesterday he treated you with affection and care. Now you were frustrated. What did he feel for you?

You complied with his demand, trying to make it less obvious that you were practically rushing out of the bathroom and toward the bedroom.

Hearing the click of a lock, Terzo stood. Legs trembling, they felt paralyzed as he managed to reach the sink. He hadn’t realized how sweaty he was until he ran a hand, still gloved, through his slick hair. Every black strand shined with his residue, disgustingly so. The mirror above the sink reflected a horrid image of him: makeup running down, pupils hiding his iris, clothing wrinkled and stained with wine. He looked awful, and he was embarrassed you saw him in such a state.

To compose himself, he turned on the faucet to its coldest setting, splashing water over his face and into his mouth to rid of the taste. The effects of the drug were still heavily present, he didn’t know how much longer he could restrain himself from taking you, and he feels terrible for having to trap you in his room.

The velvet comforter kept warm as you lay there waiting. For what? You were unsure. Was he mad at you? Maybe something upset him last night to drastically change his tone. With time, you were certain the hungover feeling would go away. To see him this way pained you and you wanted to help him. Still, the aching feeling in your heart still gushed. Helping Terzo was only an escape from thinking about anything else.

On the other side of the door, the sound of aggressive brushing sourced from the bathroom. You wanted to laugh, mainly because you never thought you’d ever get to see (or hear rather) someone so sophisticated and serious, aggressively clean their teeth. Laughing, however, took too much effort. Your body was still exhausted from previous events, and breathing felt like a chore. The expansion of your lungs with every inhale felt bruised. More internally, every pull of a muscle cried bloody murder. Too much strain could pull you apart like putty rubber, disintegrating with every stretch. You could just lay in his bed for the remainder of the day, wallowing, but Terzo was in need of assistance. It would be rude of you to deny him.

Numb as he heard the door opening, his gaze did its best to not lose sight of his hands. He stood in front of the mirror, pacing against the porcelain. You noticed his slouched position remained, head lowered so you could only see the top of his head reflected in the mirror. Terzo’s heart pumped out of his chest in fear and infatuation. The rage in his trousers didn’t help either. The last thing he needed was to leave a wrong impression on you…but this was truly embarrassing.

Of course, you were oblivious to it all, god bless your sweet soul, he thought before you inched closer to feel across his back. The motion was enough to set him off, his restrain almost completely out the door. The white of his eye glinted dangerously close to yours, you weren’t sure how he moved so quickly. Your muscles screamed once more as he closed in on you, pressing you hard against the frame. His chest heaved uncontrollably, pupils dilated at their fullest while the heat of his fresh mint breath burned your cheeks. In this position, it was hard not to feel all of him. Every crook and crevice of his body was perfectly placed on yours. Though his excitement was terrifying, you didn’t move a hair, nor did you let out such a whisper. Your eyes were turned down, scanning the black of his uncovered fingers in an attempt to fix his makeup.

As desperation grew, so did the need to feel you. He panted even harder now, cupping your face with his stained hands, forcing you to look him in the eyes. Just mere centimeters away and you would be claimed as his.

No. He needed to stop thinking. If only he was able to screw out his own brain and relieve such dreadfulness. Too many sorrows, and so many regrets.

He should’ve been the one to win your heart over. He should be the one you were so madly in love with. He should be the one you wanted to surrender to, bear his children, and live happily in the ministry. No. Because of you, things were so difficult that Sister had to butt in and put things in her own hands. She’s the one that wants–needs Terzo to take advantage of you. He won’t do it. However, right now he was yearning for your touch. He absolutely longed to feel you against him to the hilt, flaming with passion around him. He needed to know what your grip around his hair felt like. To see you with the same neediness as him once he became entangled between your legs, sliding in and out with ease. To stain you with the darkness of Lucifer himself. And once you came undone for the first time, he wouldn’t even think to stop until he was certain you were full of him, dripping with his seed of lust.

Stop thinking. Christ, he was losing himself to the dark well of wanting, he didn’t realize the subtle whine escaping him as he clung closer to you. The black smudge traced from your cheeks and to your neck, where he closed a soft fist to feel you closer without lips touching. Instead, he rested his forehead against yours to avoid the forbidden kiss. There was no recovery from this. No explanation can conjure the fact that he was deeply in love with you. The drug was only bringing out his worst. The feelings that were supposed to remain deep within when the truth is, he was always like this. But now there was no restraint, no control.

It’d been just a few minutes until his realization that his hands grouped together tighter, blocking your airway. Quickly he removed his hands, head still against yours only placing his fingers on your waist to compose himself once more.

“You’re burning up,” You said quietly in hopes of easing this terribly awkward moment. Terzo was thankful because it distracted him from his uncontrollable mind. “You might have a fever.” You were trembling now, tears threatening to leave your eyes. Perhaps his kindness was temporary. He could feel himself regaining control, moving away from your face to rest on your shoulder. The gesture made you quiver as his hair tickled along your neck. Something washed over him, like a flood within his esophagus. He grunted,

“I think I might hurl.”

“Please, not on me.” The base of his neck heaved a vigorous gag before he threw himself off of you to return to the throne. His coughs were harsh and you could see his entire body vibrate. Disgusting as the sounds were, pulling back his bangs was the only thing you could do to comfort him in his sick state. The feeling was finally gone as the last of the drug was leaving his system. Terzo wasn’t used to being ill so the sensation was too much for him to handle. Each retch only made his head pound harder he was sure he would burst. You continued to soothe him, rubbing gently on his shoulders. He leaned back onto you after finishing, taking your hand into his own to caress your fingers. His shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh.

“Amore mio,” He whispered, tilting his head back to look you directly, “There’s much to say, but we must find the Cardinal first.”

“No. You are unwell, you need rest.” He shook his head, trying to convince you that he was perfectly alright now that his hangover had passed. You saw through him, but arguing would do nothing, so you helped him up.

“I think a shower will do us good. Go ahead while I forge some new clothes for you, hm?” His voice, rasped, yet gentle. You hummed, slightly taken aback by his change of attitude. He did say there was an explanation, and with time he will give it to you.

A/N: I PROMISE Copia will be in the next chapter!

Chapter I, 𖤐 Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

#cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #ghost bc #papa emeritus 4 #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus x reader #popia copia #the band ghost #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #papa emeritus 3 #ghost the band #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii terzo

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