#i still have dream of being able to see him live but i mean come on there is no way he can ever tour internationally again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ienjoywritingfilth · 5 months ago

Text

a sinner i am

If its so wrong, why does it feel so good?

trope: Boyfriend's Dad PP character: Joel Miller x f reader summary: Your boyfriend Shawn Miller and his dad Joel bring you along to Hawaii for Christmas vacation. Things don't go as planned.

warning: 10/10 on the sexual tension scale, slowishh burn, kissing, grinding, cheating on your bf (but it’s cool, cuz its with Joel and everything is fictional in this universe), alternative universe b/c daddy miller stays alive and hates golf and he has a son named Shawn, no Sarah. rating: E

words 6.8k

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part i : takeoff

The best things in life are the people we love, the places we’ve been, and all the memories we’ve made along the way. - author unknown

"Loving him is a sin; of that I'm fully aware. But a sinner I am." - Bella Jewel

Your boyfriend Shawn brings over two iced coffees as the two of you work on a crossword together at your local coffee shop. You have been filling in the squares quickly.

"Thanks babe," you say warmly as you take the coffee from him. He presses a kiss to your temple, taking a seat next to you.

"Damn, you're fast this mornin'," he says when he sees all you've filled in. It's a tradition for the two of you; weekend crosswords over coffee. It's nice. It's domestic.

It's a little boring.

You're college sweethearts who met your sophomore year and have been inseparable since. And while the love is still very much there the butterflies have unfortunately been hibernating for a while.

It's normal, you tell yourself when you sometimes zone out during sex. It's normal when you've been together with someone so long.

"It's so nice to be doing this instead of college essays," you say.

"Fuck yeah it is."

This is your first summer of freedom without the threat of schoolwork looming in the near distance. Shawn is starting his master's in the fall and you've just accepted a position at the local museum.

“Just think I’ll actually be able to enjoy Christmas this year,” you tease. “Unlike someone who’ll be working on essays.”

“Hey now,” Shawn says with mock offence. “I’ll be able to enjoy my Christmas just fine. Actually, my dad wants to celebrate Christmas somewhere warm this year. He's talkin' about some resort in Hawaii."

Shawn comes from money, the son of the infamous Joel Miller of The Miller Company, the premiere construction firm in Texas. This means expensive vacations, nice cars, all of that is normal for him. You meanwhile have had to work hard for everything you have.

Being left behind at Christmas seems strangely unkind for the normally thoughtful head of the Miller family. Shawn's dad has always treated you like one of the family so this news is unexpected.

"Have a great time," you say trying not to be jealous. "Bring me back some chocolate macadamia nuts."

You can admit that even though both Shawn and his father are humble, kind men, you're always a bit bitter that they live so nicely. Leaving you out of their holiday vacation seems especially unkind.

"He's taking both of us babe," Shawn says with a grin. "You think he's gonna leave you behind on Christmas? After you’ve spent the last six with us?"

Christmas in Hawaii? Is this a dream? Your pencil lays forgotten on the table as you gape open-jawed at your boyfriend.

"Are you serious?"

"Babe," Shawn says meaningfully. "My dad likes you better than he likes me. Of course you're invited."

You've always gotten along with Joel. It's impossible not to. He's friendly, funny and charming. There's a reason he's good at his job. And you're a good girl, a kind girlfriend to his son with clear career ambitions.

A smile breaks out over your features and you pull Shawn into a tight hug. He chuckles, embracing you back, kissing your cheek.

"Make sure you don’t overpack, okay?" He murmurs in your ear as you giggle. “I don’t feel like helping you haul six bags of shoes for a week-long trip.”

Thoughts of lounging by the pool with a drink in one hand and a magazine in the other while the Hawaiian sun beats down on you is all too enticing. You kiss him fiercely, imagining the time together.

"I can't wait."

The two of you finish the crossword puzzle all the while talking about the drinks and food and the excursions you'll both take.

"Maybe once I've got a handle on school we can think about findin' an apartment in the new year," Shawn broaches, his hand over yours.

Sex fades, but this? This domestic stuff you have with Shawn? That's special. That's love.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He gives you a smile, that dimple poking out of his cheek that makes you swoon.

"Ready to go?" Shawn asks, extending his hand to you when your coffees are drained.

"Yeah," you say with your hand taking his. "Let's go."

When December twentieth announces itself with a thunderstorm you couldn’t care less because you’re at the airport. Your large rolling bag bag is stuffed with cute outfits, swimsuits and even some snorkelling gear.

"Feels like you got a dead body in here," Shawn laughs as he struggles with the two bags, handing you yours before swinging an arm around your shoulders.

"I wanted to be prepared."

"Let's go my little Girl Scout," he laughs with a gentle kiss to your temple. You both check in and then find your boarding gate.

"I'm gonna grab breakfast, you want anything?" Shawn asks as he parks you and the suitcases by the gate full of noisy travellers.

"Nah, I'm good."

Shawn jogs off in the direction of a Starbucks you passed on your way in.

Out the larger windows you can see planes taking off. You've never flown before; you thought that you'd be excited. But at the first view of those planes out the window you feel your stomach drop.

They’re so big and bulky. How does it fly properly? It couldn’t. What if people shift around too much in their seats? Surely this can’t be a safe form of travel!

You pull out your phone, distracting yourself with a game. You try for several moments but your eyes keep being drawn to the huge planes outside. You grimace, wondering if you should have gotten your doctor to prescribe you something for anxiety.

"Cheer up," a voice says. "You look like you're goin' to prison, not a five star resort."

You glance over to see Shawn's dad, Joel, at the other side of you, an amused look on his handsome face. He's wearing jeans and a faded grey Longhorns t-shirt. You're momentarily thrown as normally you see him in dress pants and button downs for work.

"I'm excited for the resort, just not the giant metal death box hurling through the air that is my only means of getting there."

"Touche."

Shawn jokes about Joel liking you better then he likes him, but the truth is you and Joel are very similar. Your senses of humour, your ability to read people, your tendency to see the worst in people before they prove themselves worthy.

Shawn is more like his mom, sweet and naive at times, always seeing the good in people. It's ironic considering which parent stuck around to raise him and which one escaped the country six years after Shawn was born.

Joel takes the empty seat next to you, his kneecap kissing yours as he pulls out his phone.

"Never flown before," you explain.

"Ah, I see," Joel puts his phone in his pocket, his attention fully fixed on your face. "Well what if I told you it's actually the safest way to travel?"

"I'd call you a liar."

Joel chuckles richly, his hand falling to your knee and squeezing as he laughs.

"I promise you, I wouldn't take you on anything unsafe. And if all that's not good enough, you'll have Shawn beside you holding your hand the whole time."

You grin at that, nodding. The thought of Shawn being there does help your anxiety. Joel smiles back, eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Thank you so much for inviting me along in this trip, Joel. I've always wanted to go to Hawaii."

"S'a beautiful place," Joel nods. "And you don't need to thank me. You're practically family at this point."

Shawn returns with a muffin and two coffees in hand.

"Hey dad, got you a coffee," Shawn says handing it to his father.

"Thanks," Joel says gratefully. Just then the intercom alert sounds

"Good afternoon passengers.This is the announcement for flight 82B for Oahu, Hawaii. We are now inviting passengers to begin boarding. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Thank you.”

“That’s us.”

The lineup goes uncomfortably fast. You stand beside Sean who is talking to Joel behind you, the two of them deep in conversation about football, a subject you couldn't care less about. You are still too preoccupied with the flight, being surrounded by almost all strangers sailing through the sky.

You're not a fan of heights. So when you get to the door of the plane you hesitate, willing your foot to move. When it doesn't and the flight attendants shoot you a confused look, you feel yourself start to panic.

Shawn has gone on ahead to grab your seats and place your carry-on bag in the overhead bin, not noticing that you're not behind him. A large hand flies to the small of your back, a comforting gesture. Joel. He rubs there, soothing you.

"You'll be okay darlin'," he rumbles in your ear. "Remember, it’s safer than drivin' a car."

“Liar.”

Joel’s deep chuckle makes you grin and you allow Joel to gently prod you onto the plane, shooting the waiting attendants grateful looks for their patience. He takes his seat near the front, watching as you make your way to your seat next to Shawn. As you buckle in a thought occurs to you and you move your voice to a whisper.

"Isn't it gonna be kinda weird with us being there all week with just your dad? I mean, sharing the place and all?"

"Nah, he made sure the rooms were far apart. Plus, he invited his girlfriend to come along so I doubt we'll see much of him."

Joel is a chronic workaholic, often pulling late nights and working on his phone. You’ve seen him out and about with beautiful women at the events Shawn takes you to but never formally dating them. You always assumed to be a lifelong bachelor. You wouldn't blame him, especially after what he's been through with Shawn's mother.

"I didn't know he had a girlfriend," you say honestly. "Good for him."

"A couple months now," your boyfriend tells you. "You know my dad, mister private. But he took me to dinner and told me about her so I think he's getting serious."

"That's really sweet," you say honestly. You want nothing but the best for him.

All of a sudden the plane starts to jiggle, sending people stumbling down the aisles and others gasping in surprise. You reach over and grab Shawn's hand, trying to regulate your breathing.

"Not so tight, babe," Shawn complains before gently sliding his hand from under yours. "You scratched me with your nails."

"Sorry," you mumble, eyes closed as the jostling of the plane continues.

You tighten your seat belt before gripping the seat arms so tightly that your knuckles are white. Sean squeezes your kneecap, murmuring that everything will be okay and that you’re safe. You keep your eyes closed, trying to focus on the soothing sounds of his words.

Eventually the plane enters smooth skies and the seat belt sign is turned off. Despite this you remain keyed up, sitting stiffly as Shawn fades into a nap.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

You crack open an eye to see a beautiful redheaded flight attendant bending down towards you with a glass of what appears to be whisky in her hand. She extends it towards you and you take it confused.

"This is from the gentleman in A-1. He says to take this and you'll be relaxed for the rest of the flight."

You look up a few rows to see Joel giving you a brief wave. You thank the women before raising it towards Joel in a Cheers motion.

Drink it. Joel mouths.

Yes, sir. You mouth back complete with a stiff fake salute before tossing back the drink.

He grins at you before settling back in his seat.

The drink does the job.

"Here we are."

The cab drops the three of you in front of the beach resort. When you step out the air is fragrant with the scent of flowers. You wait while Joel checks you all in before he's back, motioning for you both to follow.

There's the main section of the resort with luxurious hotel rooms. The more secluded section contains a variety of self contained houses that dot the waterfront. Its reserved for people who have unlimited credit card limits and drive cars that cost more than your parents first home.

When you arrive to your unit, your eyes are ready to bug out of your head. It's massive, as far as vacation rentals go. When you all step into the air conditioned unit you have to take a moment to take it all in.

The beach house is beautiful with floor to ceiling windows, stunning tile floors and tasteful furniture. All of this is topped off with spectacular views of the beach outside your door.

A plate of sliced pineapple and chilled wine sits on the kitchen table, along with a note that Joel reads when he wanders over.

"Welcome note," he explains when he sees you looking at it. "I knew the owner back in trade school."

You and Shawn nod, your boyfriends hand trailing down your back gently. It's much the same as what Joel did back at the airplane, but it feels different. You trail your suitcase behind you hearing the clack of it against the stone floor as you move around the room.

"Wow."

It's all you can utter as the three of you tour the rest of the unit. There’s a simple kitchen with an expensive looking coffee machine and a brand new bag of kona coffee waiting to be used. The living room holds a table and four chairs, a few board games and a list of nearby places to visit along with the wifi code. The couch is simple, placed in front of a large television that you’re sure you won’t use.

"My bedrooms on the right," Joel tells you both. "Yours it's on the left. We're sharin’ a bathroom, sorry about that. Pretty common in these places."

Who cares about sharing a bathroom when you're in one of the most beautiful places you've ever been? Even the bathroom is beautiful with its high waterfall shower head and sleek marble. This place must have cost a fortune for the week.

Joel encourages you both to take a look at your room down the hall and you don't hesitate to take Shawn's hand, dragging him there. Shawn pushes open the door to the bedroom and you can't hold in your shriek.

"Holy shit! It's gorgeous!"

The big windows overlook the ocean, the late afternoon beach beckoning to you. The bed is large and plush with white sheets, and framed prints of Oahu sunsets. Its spacious, the bed so large it looks like two giant beds pushed together. The closet is spacious and boats dozens of wood coat hangers.

“Wood, because it’s classy,” you tell Shawn in amusement who is already unpacking his suitcase while you continue to stare in a daze.

"You like it?"

Joel is standing at the door frame, a shoulder balanced against it, watching you take it all in. He's smiling at you in that gentle, sweet way of his that makes you feel cared for.

You're suddenly overcome with gratitude and you streak over to him.

"Thank you, Joel!" You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. "This is the most beautiful place I've ever been."

Joel laughs along with Shawn at your embrace and enthusiasm, holding you around the middle and hoisting you in his arms. Your face presses into his neck as he squeezes you, and the scent of leather and sandalwood envelops you.

You've never really hugged Joel before. Maybe a polite side hug during family events, a high-five during baseball games and even once a hard push to his shoulder when he made fun of you for being afraid of a spider that had gotten into the house.

But you've never had your front pressed to his, never really felt the muscles of his back and arms, seen the tendons in his neck or realized just how big his hands are when they squeeze your waist before lowering you.

"I guess that means you like it," he says, red-faced. You pull back, embarrassed at your overzealous response.

Shawn and his dad are very similar in their looks. Except Shawn is clean-shaven while Joel has a beard and Shawn's eyes are hazel like his mom's while Joel's are the darkest brown you've ever seen. You've never really noticed how dark until this very moment.

You shoot him a cheery thank you again before smiling and skipping over to Shawn announcing that you'll unpack as well.

"You two enjoy, I gotta make a few calls but then we can head out to dinner."

"Sounds great," Shawn says as he searches for his phone charger.

Joel closes the door behind him and you turn to your boyfriend. You can't explain it but you feel turned on. The Hawaiian air must be doing something to you because

You crawl towards where he kneels unpacking. You grin, feeling the pulse of desire hitting you below the navel. You kneel beside him, dropping your voice to a husky murmur.

"Should we break the bed in?"

An hour later the three of you are sitting at a local eatery. Joel and Shawn are talking with one another while you scan the busy restaurant.

Couples, families, all laughing and cheerful. And why wouldn't they? This is Paradise after all. But you don't feel anything like it, if anything, you feel like a little black rain cloud.

Shawn turned down your earlier advances, citing that he was too tired. The problem is for the past three months Shawn has been too tired most of the time. At first he blamed grad school but when you pointed out he still made lots of time for gaming with best friends Brian and Kevin he'd been quick to explain that gaming relaxed him.

That conversation had gone over about as well as a turd in the punch bowl. You remember being so hurt at what you felt was a slight against you. Weren't you relaxing? Weren't you something that made him happy?

So yeah, you had hoped that this little vacation might stir some of that old spark back. But maybe you were too eager. You had just arrived at the place after all. Maybe you were being unfair. Still, the rejection stung.

"Thought we could do all the tourist-y shit while we're here," Joel says after you've all placed your orders. "Luau, sunset cruise."

"Snorkelling?" Shawn offers.

"Hell yes," Joel nods grinning. "ATV tour too."

The Millers like to have fun. They also like to keep busy. It's like second nature to them to be off on adventures or activities. You meanwhile plan on spending lots of time by the pool or the beach, reading and drinking.

"What about you, darlin'?" Joel asks between sips of whisky. "What're you hopin' to do?"

You know exactly what. The thing you've been dying to do since you were a kid at the aquarium.

"I wanna swim with the turtles."

Shawn bursts into amused laughter beside you, and if you weren't already irritated with him before, you certainly are now. He grins at you not understanding that you're secretly furious with him.

"Turtles? Really?"

"What's wrong with turtles?"

"Seems kinda babyish doesn't it?"

"What's babyish about liking animals?" Joel cuts in. "You forgetting about the time we wouldn't let you in the petting zoo and you threw your shoe at me?"

"I was five, dad."

"Yeah well, some things don't change," Joel says with a smirk. "Still throwin' tantrums when you don't get your way."

"Fuck off old man," Shawn says through chuckles. “Don’t forget I’m your only child. I pick which retirement home I’m gonna stick you in when your mind goes.”

“Little bastard,” Joel mutters, trying to hold back a loud laugh.

He settles for tossing a drink umbrella in Shawn’s direction, chuckling when Shawn dodges it easily. You can't help but laugh along with him, your bad mood fading.

By the time dessert arrives you're all several glasses of wine in reminiscing about Shawn's last attempt at surfing.

"I've gotten better," he exclaims. “I swear.”

"Yeah well we'll see about that," Joel says paying the check. "Alright team, let's head back and get some shut eye. This old man needs it."

You roll your eyes at that. Joel isn't even fifty and even if he was he's about the best looking man his age bracket and younger. You've seen the way women stare at him, whispering, blushing when he looks their way. He is not what you’d qualify as old.

The three of you arrive back at the unit to the sound of nighttime creatures croaking and buzzing.

"Alright I'll meet you two out here tomorrow morning around nine. We can go to the excursion desk and plan the week. Sound good?"

"Sounds good, night Dad."

"Night Joel."

The three of you part ways into the opposite bedrooms. Shawn nuzzles your neck gently kissing there. He always does that when he's been drinking. You smile delightedly at this, eager to get into bed.

When the lights are off and the two of you have slipped off your clothes and under the covers you roll towards him, peppering his face with soft kisses.

"It's late, babe," he murmurs, kissing you sweetly but with finality.

"We're on vacation," you remind him, slipping your hand under his boxers.

You feel him slowly start to harden in your grip. You hear his breath hitch and you smile, knowing those sounds so intimately. You tug off your panties and slide onto his lap, preparing to ride him.

"Fuck me," you whisper, hips grinding against his. "Wanna feel your cock in me."

“Baby, no.”

Shawn pulls you off of him and you tumble into the bed next to him, feeling your cheeks grow hot with humiliation.

"My dad is right across the hall," Shawn hisses. “I don’t want him hearing us.”

Rejection never sits well with you and immediately you feel yourself growing defensive.

"You're dad is gonna be across the hall the whole week, Shawn,” you whisper angrily. “So what, we're not going to have fuck this entire trip?"

"We'll have sex," Shawn said rolling his eyes. "Just not when my dad is ten feet away sharing a fuckin' bathroom with us."

Bullshit. Another excuse to put off the intimacy that’s been dwindling for months. You push yourself from the bed, tugging on your dress from earlier. Shawn leans up on his elbows, giving you a look of concern.

"Where are you going?"

"A walk."

"I'll c---"

"No," you say sharp as a knife. "I want to go alone."

You stalk out of the house, eyes glossy with hurt and anger. That's the thing they don't tell you about relationships that have gone on so long -- both partners need to work to keep the fires going.

You make your way to the beach along the softly lit pathway. Its well after midnight and the resort is quiet; the lights dimmed or off entirely. You take a seat on a nearby rock, listening to the gentle sound of the evening waters lapping by the shore. You're very excited to go swimming tomorrow. To feel the warm sand underneath your feet.

You can hear noise coming from the far end of the resort. You remember over dinner Joel going through the resort map on his phone, letting you know what amenities they had. He had told you both about the dance club the resort had.

Shawn had immediately laughed, stating that he’d take a pass on it. Shawn hates dancing. You tried to get him to do dance lessons with you once but he wouldn't even give it a shot.

Right now it seems all you can do is focus on Sean's flaws. You know that he's a decent man, you know the treats you well, but there are these bugaboos these irritants that can't help frustrate you right now.

"Fuck it," you murmur to yourself, raising yourself from the sand and brushing it from your sundress. You follow the sound of the music, stopping in front of a door with blinking lights. A man in a blue Hawaiian shirt smiles at you when you approach.

"Aloha, may I ask your Unit number?"

"Number 4, under Miller."

The man types into his computer before nodding, opening the door for you. You step into the darkness, letting your eyes adjust to the blue lights and colourful dance floor. The speakers are playing typical vacation music with a heavy bass.

Bodies writhe on the dance floor, half naked in revealing dresses or in the men's case, unbuttoned shirts. You order a drink at the bar, taking it with you as you scout the area for a free chair. A hand on your wrist surprises you.

"Joel?"

Joel is seated at one of the small circle tables nursing what appears to be a tumbler of Scotch. He motions for you to take the free chair next to him and you do gratefully falling into it, your arm bumping his.

"What are you doin' here? Since when does Shawn dance?" He asks over the bass, grinning. He looks a bit tipsy, his neck red.

"He doesn't, I'm here alone. I needed to blow off some steam," you tell him over the music.

"Me too," he says loudly back. "Couldn't sleep. Too excited, I guess."

You nod, looking back at the dance floor wistfully. Everyone looks like they're having such a fun time, their worries and concerns far away from them as they undulate to the rhythm of the music. Joel takes another sip of his drink, watching you from the corner of his eyes.

You wish Shawn was here with you, you wish he was spinning you around on the dance floor. You wish it was like those early years where you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

"You and Shawn doin' okay?"

Joel's voice cuts into your confusing thoughts. You glance his way.

"Why do you ask?"

"Cuz I'm a dad," Joel. "And I've been married. And I know what tension between two people looks like."

You sigh heavily, your mind drifting to earlier. You don’t answer Joel because what would you tell him? You can’t tell your boyfriend’s dad that you’re worried his son is growing distant. You can’t tell him that your sex life has been disintegrating for the past several months. Instead you just shrug.

"You two talked about marriage?"

"What? No.”

You and Shawn have been together a long time, but you have no intention of settling down anytime soon. Sean is still doing his masters and you're loving your job at the museum.

"Good. No, not like that," Joel amends when he sees your stricken expression. "I just mean you're both so young."

"You were younger than us when you got married.”

"Yeah and look where that got me," he says with a scoff.

"Yeah, well, I think it's just been a long time and we're hitting a rough patch. Nothing we can't overcome," you add quickly. "It's just hard sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah," Joel nods. "I know."

The two of you lapse into silence, watching the twirling, shouting, laughing people swan around you. You shouldn’t be glum, you should be experiencing life!

"You wanna dance?"

His voice is low and husky in your ear. You start, surprised to see Joel inches from your face. You know he's speaking so close to you because it's so loud in here, but it doesn't stop your pulse from ticking at the shock.

"Don't really know how.”

"Shit reason. C'mon."

Joel throws back the rest of his drink and drags you onto the dance floor. You laugh as he spins you, both of you almost knocking into an older couple who are taking the dance very seriously. They shoot you both a nasty look and you and Joel have to work hard to muffle your laughter.

"You're gonna get us kicked out!"

"Nah," Joel shakes his head, spinning you again but closer to him. "I'm too charmin’."

"You think pretty highly of yourself don't you?"

Joel shrugs, laughing as the song ends. Another quick one begins and Joel looks serious.

"I'm gonna teach you some moves Shawn's mom taught me."

"Okay."

You're surprised, he doesn't really mention Shawn's mother very often.

You watch as Joel attempts to teach you some simple dance moves. You don't know if it's the stuffy club, the drinks running through your veins or the fact that you're dancing with your boyfriend's dad, but you can't really focus on the steps.

"I give up," you moan after the fifth failed attempt at a two-step.

"You ain't a quitter," Joel assures you, trying to spin you slowly so you can get your footing.

You never realized that Joel was such a good dancer. Watching him move his tall body is strangely hypnotizing, mainly because you never expected a man that broad and muscular to move so fluidly.

"Atta girl," he says proudly when you get some of the footing correct.

You smirk when you see the women nearby watching him, shooting him smiles. But his focus is on you, teaching you the moves and assuring you: it's alright darlin', we'll get you there just take your time.

You're having so much fun with him you barely realize that an hour has gone by and you can only tell when you realize the back of your neck is damp with sweat.

You're about to announce your heading back to the unit when the beat slows and many trickle off the dance floor. It's a slow song, and only the couples remain in the glowing dance floor.

You go to step off when you feel Joel spin you again, back into his arms. You smile breathlessly up at him, the two of you shiny from perspiration from the dancing and the warm crowded space.

Joel is looking at you strangely, his eyes luminous in the reflection of the twinkling club lights. When he slides a hand at your lower back and urges your hands around his neck you don't hesitate. You lace your fingers there, shifting from foot to foot.

You feel strange to be dancing with Joel. And not because he makes you feel uncomfortable, it's the opposite, actually. You feel almost too comfortable. Joel’s eyes are trailing over your face, sometimes highlighted by the flash of the DJ’s lights.

“You talked to Shawn about all that’s botherin’ you and this rough patch?” Joel asks out of nowhere.

He looks vulnerable; unlike the Joel you know who is all smiles and jokes.

“Kinda,” you say shyly, looking over his shoulder. “It’s just hard. . . We can both get pretty defensive. Plus, I wonder if I’m maybe being unfair. He’s in school and everything.”

“Uh huh, and you started that museum job didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty demanding job, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Joel gives you a look as he rocks you both from side to side

“Can I say somethin’ you might not wanna hear?”

You nod.

“In my experience, it takes two people to make a relationship. Not one puttin’ in all the effort while the other one has his or her head in the sand.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. The song ends and Joel releases his hands you’re your waist before he announces he has to hit the washroom. You head to the bar for a glass of water and to wait for him.

"Hi beautiful."

An Australian man around Joel's age with a moustache is leaning against the bar next to you. His eyes are bleary and red-rimmed, his cheeks ruddy. He’s obviously very drunk. You give a forced smile before going back to wait for your water.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No thanks," you answer quickly. "Just getting water."

"How about a dance then?"

"I'm good," you say forcing a polite smile. You’re facing away from him, eyes on the bartender hoping he notices you.

"C'mon beautiful," the man insists, eyes sliding over your chest in a very obvious way. "I'm a good dancer too. Could give you lots of lessons."

"She said no."

Joel's voice is there, having clearly come back from the bathroom. You step backwards and before you know it Joel is sliding his arm protectively around you. You glance up to see Joel's face contorted into a mask of fury. His teeth are bared like some wild animal and he grips you tightly to him.

"Sorry man," The guy says holding his hands up in surrender towards Joel. "Didn't know she was taken."

Joel sneers before leading you out of the club. The cool air is a welcome reprieve when you step outside, breathing deeply.

"That place is nothin' but perverts," Joel growls as the two of you make your way back along the beach in the direction of your unit.

"Joel, you were there," you say giggling. "That make you a pervert?"

"Ha ha."

You walk quietly along the shoreline, confused as to how you can feel this good when just an hour ago it felt like everything was falling apart. Maybe it’s the drink in your veins, maybe its Hawaii, or maybe it’s just Joel.

"Watch it--"

Joel takes your hand when you stumble over a rock in the semi darkness. You let him, not dropping it even when your walking evens out. It feels nice to walk hand in hand with him, it feels safe. He doesn't let go of your hand either as you continue along, your shoes making dual footprints in the sand.

"Thanks for in there," you say. “I hate creepy guys like that.”

"Was nothin'," he says, then he drops your hand after a moment. "Shawn would have done the same."

"No, he wouldn't have."

It slips out before you can stop yourself. Joel stops in the sand, his concern there in his face. It’s clear that what you’ve said has upset him.

"What?"

"He doesn't like confrontation, you know that," you say with a shrug. "And I like that about him."

"You do?" Joel challenges. "Really?"

"Sometimes."

Honestly you’ve never enjoyed the men who start fights for no reason, who act like cavemen when someone looks at their girlfriend. Shawn is too smart for that, too above it to engage with assholes like that. But you have to admit that there was a part of you that found Joel’s actions inside the club to be a bit attractive. Is that the word? Would you really call your boyfriend’s father attractive?

You look at him standing there, his grey t-shirt clinging to his muscles and wide shoulders, the muscular thighs in denim and you think, fuck, yeah he is attractive. You knew he wasn’t ugly, you’d just never looked at him like that. Like he was a man outside of being Shawn’s dad.

"I come from a time when you take care of what's yours." Joel runs a hand through his messy curls. "If you were mine I wouldn't let anyone talk to you the way that man did, let alone touch you."

If you were mine.

You can't understand why but you're nipples tighten under your dress at those words. The possessiveness in Joel's voice is so dark and husky. He’s looking off into the dark like he’s really upset.

"If I was yours," you murmur.

His glazed eyes move from the beach over to your face. You’re standing so close to one another and you can see his chest rising and falling quickly as he breathes. His scotch-coated breath huffs over your cheeks and you swear you’re getting drunker just inhaling it.

You must be, because why else would you be putting your hands on his shoulders. Why else would you be pressing your mouth to his? Why else would you be tracing his plush lips with your tongue and whimpering when he groans into your parted mouth?

And he must be drunk because he doesn’t pull away or hesitate. He dips his head and his hands wrap around your waist, bringing your body against him tightly. His palms slide over your skin, desperate to touch you everywhere as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You welcome it, going gooey in his arms, allowing him to take what he wants from you.

He’s so fucking broad, so strong, so masculine. You gasp into his mouth when he grips your ass with his big hands, pulling your hips against his, circling them as he kisses you. You feel his hardened cock through the layers of fabric, straining against the zipper of his jeans, desperate to bury itself in your slick heat.

To be desired like this feels powerful. It feels like years since Shawn wanted you like this much. It makes you lean more into Joel, desperate to keep the sensation going. His hands are sliding under your dress, up your silken thigh and you tremble.

A splash sounds nearby in the water, a fish or something startling you both and you simultaneously break apart. You both take a step back from one another in the sand, eyes wide. Joel looks completely crazed.

“The fuck—what are we doin’?” Joel whispers, the regret clear in both your faces.

You bring your trembling hands to your warm cheeks and tears immediately spring to your waterline.

What have you just done?

“Oh my fuck, no no, I don’t – I don’t know why-“

You bend at the waist, hands braced on your knees as you start to hyperventilate. Joel is pacing up and down the sand, his silhouette barely seen in the darkness of night. You can see his feet pacing back and forth. . . back and forth . . . He stops when you let out a hiccup, on the verge of throwing up.

“Honey stop,” Joel says, a hand on your back, rubbing gently along your spine. “Calm down. Calm down, its okay.”

“I don’t know why I did that,” you say, tears streaming down your face and dropping into the sand below. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“S’not your fault,” Joel says, his voice even and calm. It makes you feel calm. And yet, guilt still bubbles up in your lungs, making a small sob escape.

“I have to—you need to—I need to tell Shawn. Right now.”

“Hold on,” Joel says roughly, gripping you by the shoulder and urging you to stand. He peers into your face with a grim expression.

“You cannot tell Shawn anythin’.”

“I have to,” you whine.

“It’ll just hurt him,” Joel insists, nodding and hoping you’ll do the same. “It was a mistake. It was nothing, it was just the booze. We just drank too much and we were all hopped up on that asshole inside the club and we weren’t thinkin’.”

“Right,” you agree, relief sliding through every vein you possess as he lays it out for you. “That’s totally what it was. The drinking. We’re drunk.”

“Completely.”

“Okay. Good.”

You’re still shaken up by what just happened, still tipsy from the drinks. Joel runs an anxious hand through his curls, looking utterly wrecked.

“Let’s go back.”

The two of you walk the rest of the way back in silence. You still cannot believe what you did. You kissed your boyfriend’s father. You kissed him and he kissed you back. Fuck, you both must be utterly wasted. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll both forget it even happened. You would welcome the hangover from hell if it could erase the last fifteen minutes from both your minds for good.

Joel tugs open the sliding glass door, not able to look at you as you both pad towards the opposing doors. You glance over your shoulder to see Joel staring at you as you enter the bedroom where his son sleeps. You give him a sorrowful smile before closing the door.

You crawl under the covers, thankful that Shawn is asleep. You slip off the dress, your hair wild from dancing, your skin sticky with sweat, and your mouth still tasting of scotch. Your cunt flutters at the memory of the noises he made.

You roll onto your side, trying to drift to sleep. Shawn, still half-slumbering snuggles up against your back. His arm slips over your waist and he holds you, as he often holds you back home, gentle and tender and full of love.

“I’m sorry about before, babe,” he murmurs into your hair.

You feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You blink rapidly, closing your eyes and trying to swallow the guilt.

You know that Joel is in his bed right now similarly afflicted, thinking about how he did something so unforgivable and to his own son. Joel is the kindest dad you know; he loves his son more than anything. You know that what you both just did was awful and disgusting.

You also know that there is something deeply wrong with you because as you lay there in Shawn’s arms your pussy floods with memories of his father’s mouth on yours still vivid in your mind.

do you guys want more of this? or should it be a one-shot? also trying a new aesthetic what do we tthink?

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x oc #joel the last of us #tlou joel #joel miller x original character #au joel miller #bdf!joel #but the dbf stands for boyfriend's dad #joel miller x you

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cherry-pop-elf · 1 month ago

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Kiss it Better Pt:2

Curly x Reader

AN: Holy shit I did NOT expect all the love and support from the original like god damn! People begging for a part 2 and everything (I’ll make sure to tag those who asked for one at the bottom) Like oh my god thank you guys so much! This means the WORLD to me! As a disabled person trying to make his medical issues more accurate it means so much that yall love it and how I write in general! Thank you!

SUM: You and Anya were busy dealing with changing Curly’s wrappings together. Sharing stories, and just trying to stay positive. That’s when you just had to ask. What’s going on between her and Jimmy?

Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, Anya sharing her trauma so pls take care of yourself, medical gore, medical situations, light violence,

“Thank you again for handling Curly’s medication. I’m sorry I just-“ Anya would try to explain again how sorry she was that she was struggling to do her job. A job you could never blame her for. She’s been through a traumatic event of the ship crashing, and already had to try and save a near corpse. She deserves to breathe.

“Anya it’s fine, really. I’m his romantic partner as well. It be weird if I didn’t pick up some responsibility and tried to take care of him. You also deserve time to rest. You’ve done so much for him, and saved his life. Give yourself more credit. It’s not a sin to ask for help.” You would try and comfort her, as you would grab the fresh bandages for Curly.

He needed a lot of them, and they had to be changed out relatively often. He’s basically just exposed meat after all. The risk of infection was high, which you were wondering how he didn’t even catch any yet, so he needed alot of attention and care.

If only Pony Express had packed more, because the med bay was running out of them fast. Very very fast. Might be only able to maybe re wrap him a few more times now. Had you terrified because as much as you wanted to take care of him you had to leave some bandages for the rest of the crew. In case of another emergency.

You wish you could be doing more.

“We’re going to undress you. Is that alright?” Anya would ask Curly, who in return would give two blinks to indicate that he consented to being stripped. Was gonna have to be done but it was still so kind of Anya to still ask before hand.

The two of you would soon get to work on changing out his bandages. A very slow, careful, tedious job. One that normally took over a hour to do properly. So it’s time to kill some of that empty space.

“Ya know, this isn’t the first time over had to wrap up a certain someone because they got hurt. I remember a time when we were at a Ski resort with his family. Someone wanted to try a path that was meant for experts and before you know it someone’s returning to the lodge with his leg bone sticking out of his pants.”

Anya gave a little ‘oh my’ as you just laughed at the memory. Curly just adored sports. Especially the winter variety. You felt so blessed that he had a job that paid so well. Well enough that the two of you, and his own family sometimes, could go and enjoy vacations like that.

You wonder if the two of you will ever see the snow again.

“That sounds rather nice, minus the whole breaking his leg. To share a cabin together with someone. Cuddle for warmth together by the fire place. Sounds really nice.” She would speak dreamily. As if she knew it was simply that. A dream. Something that will never happen again. No matter how hard she tried.

Like something was wrong with her.

“I bet you’ll get that moment. When we escape here you’ll have a flooding of men and women coming your way. The brilliant woman who managed to fight death and win. Again and again. The most brilliant woman to ever live.” You would praise her, as you were very mindful of Curly’s catheter. As if that needed to be messed with.

“Yeah…..Maybe……” Anya didn’t really seem to actually respond. Was like she was just saying words for the sake of words. Had you wondering.

Even before the crash she had just started acting off one day. From being a cheerful woman who was gentle and full of smiles, to being so quiet and scared by the littlest of sounds. Like she expected someone to jump from around the corner and attack her. Any feeling of safety and comfort vanished.

You were worried.

“Say, Anya-“ You began to speak, while disposing the bandages safely into the bio hazard bag. “-Is everything ok? I mean duh we’re not doing to hot with being, ya know, crashed and all. But besides that. You just seem…..different.”

Anya seemed to not hear you. She simply worked on checking over Curly’s body. Hunting down any infections, looking for possible bed sores, monitoring his healing, and getting ready to do the ever so gentlest of sponge baths.

Anya did always get in the zone whenever someone was hurt. You figured she didn’t catch what you said because of it.

So repeated yourself, as you stood next to her. Impossible to miss what you were asking, as you would help Curly sit up and just move his joints to better reach with the sponge.

The only sounds in that room were Curly’s whines of discomfort. Whines to indicate truly how much pain he was in when even the pain killers can numb it.

“Anya….I know you can hear me. Is everything alright? Not to be rude but I’m kinda asking you a question.” You would be gentle, but she still couldn’t help but looked distressed.

“Anya what’s-“ You would reach a hand out, to comfort her, but the second it was raised towards her she would immediately flinch. Her startled reaction ended up even making her drop Curly’s leg on the table.

Oh that’s gotta hurt.

For a fleeting moment you put Anya on the back burner, and just focused your attention on comforting Curly. How he gave a weak sob from the intense pain.

“Shhhh I know Curly Fry. I know. It’s gonna be ok. It was an accident. You know she didn’t mean it. Shhh.” You would kiss his forehead, as Curly had a muscle spasm through his body from the intense shock to his system. So exhausted and in so much pain.

“It’s gonna be ok. I promise. I love you so much. Just think about our future. How we will get off this ship, and have that family. Have our own baby-“

The moment you said baby, that’s when Anya finally cracked.

Her hands were now covering her face, as she just broke down into sobs. Sobs that sounded so hoarse. Like she’s done it so many times that her body was just abused from it. Left you so worried and confused.

What the hell is going on here?

“Anya, what’s wrong? What did I say?” You would gently guide her to a chair, and worked on stroking her hair. Giving her as much comfort as you would to Curly. The same gentle love as he would get. Love she deserved.

It took a while for her to catch her breathe, and you didn’t rush it because it really seemed she needed it, but her own trembling body was finally able to quite down.

“I need to tell you something. I need to tell you something about Jimmy-“

You were quick to kneel down infront of her, and was ready to take in every last word she was going to say. Maybe what secrets she held could finally explain why the hell you all were crashed here. Why Jimmy crashed you all.

“Jimmy ra-“

That’s when the door opened.

As if that bastard had a sixth sense for whenever people were talking about him. That same annoyed expression, same sneer, same empty eyes.

All three of you kinda froze in time now. Looking at him, as he looked back at you all. Scanning you. As if judging to figure out what was being said before entering.

“Hey….Captain….” You swallowed, as you would return to standing. Anya herself remained in her chair, with her head down. Didn’t seem she trusted herself in showing any expressions right now.

“What were you guys talking about?” He asked, as he seemed slightly on edge. Like he hasn’t been sleeping well or had too much caffeine. Just this tension of paranoia was in the air. Like he was worried about something.

“Just about the bandages. We’re starting to run low, and Anya is just getting worried about having enough.” Wasn’t a complete lie. The best lies were the ones with truth sprinkled in.

“Of course he’s wasting our supplies.” He scoffed, before walking over to the table. You were trying to give Curly some respect with grabbing something to cover him up with, but it was like Jimmy wouldn’t let you. The stare he gave you, when you grabbed the clean hospital gown, made you just freeze in place.

It was just so full of hate.

It was just so full of disgust.

It was just cruelty in dark eyes.

It was just focused on you. As if Anya didn’t even exist right now. Like she meant nothing to him. Nothing but the wind in the air. Something you don’t even bother in registering every day. Like how you breathe in air in your lungs.

You don’t notice until it’s gone.

“Has he been given his medication?” He would ask you, as his hands would be firm on the bed side. Just seeming to assert his dominance with standing over the man. Like some got over the little people.

“Yes Jimmy. He’s been medicated. We are actually in the middle of washing him. It would be nice if there was some privacy-“ You tried to gently hint at, only for it yo fall on deaf ears.

"The crash really did do a number on you. You don’t even have a dick anymore. Just holes huh-?” Jimmy would scoff, as that was your final straw. You would give Jimmy a hard hip bump, and quickly covered Curly up. To give him dignity and respect.

“Hey-! Watch it! Don’t think because you are Curly’s little eye candy doesn’t mean you can go pushing people around-“ Jimmy would bark at you.

You didn’t feel fear.

Jimmy was messing with YOUR man now. Curly deserved dignity and respect. He doesn’t deserve to be called a ‘set of holes’ no way in hell. No one deserved that and ESPECIALLY not Curly.

“Will you just shut up?! What the hell are you even doing here?! Aren’t you the Captain now? Captains are suppose to be doing whatever it takes to help the crew. All you’ve been doing is walking around and insulting everyone! It’s like you don’t want us to be saved. Be a Captain and take some responsibility already-!”

The anger that he had for you was terrifying. You swore it was like a switch. He suddenly seemed taller, bigger, angrier, more intense. You felt like you were shrinking more and more. Like you would melt into a puddle under that heated stare.

But you refused to.

For Curly.

“Listen here you-“

SLAP

You smacked him across the face. Was like the world went mute. No one was so much as breathing. Just the stares of shock from Anya and Curly.

“Get. Back. To. WORK.”

You ordered, and he listened.

He would hold his red cheek, and walked away like a dog with its tail between its legs. As if he was all talk and no bite. That he couldn’t bring himself to be more than an angry voice.

Someone needed to keep him in his place.

“Can this damn ship get any more hectic?” You sighed with your fingers to the bridge of your nose. Just trying to think clearly.

That’s when Anya found her voice.

“I’m pregnant.”

You opened your eyes wide, and was frozen in place.

Did you hear that right? No no. No way. Why would she be pregnant? How would she get pregnant? Who would get her…

“Oh my god.”

You slowly turned around to Anya with the puzzle pieces falling into place. You finally realized what had happened.

Jimmy never was a responsible man.

@meheheasasa @letmebedelutional @trashcansally @balanahala562

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fae-of-prey · 3 months ago

Text

sugar plums ⏾ ˖ ࣪⊹

inspired by this + me rewatching obx before the new season

warnings: barry’s little sister reader (kinda naïve + v sheltered); w*rd cameron; brief mentions of murder as per canon events of the show; forced kiss but reader doesn’t mind; i think that’s it? feel free to lmk if i missed any *1138 words* notes: this is v much baby’s first official fic so pls be nice to me:3 i also wanna thank my beautiful beautiful moots for supporting me + beta reading this for me, love y’all to death<333

rafe loves nighttime; it’s peaceful, quiet, it feels like he has the whole world to himself, and most of all you. he fights hard to keep you as blissfully ignorant and unaware as humanly possible, so you can sleep peacefully next to him. rafe can’t sleep tonight though, how could he? he’s haunted by the consequences of his own murderous actions. he lays awake watching you instead just to feel a tinge of pride from how well he’s kept you safe and happy despite everything.

rafe always thought you were an angel, his angel, sent straight from the heavens just for him, and you‘ve never looked more heavenly at peace than you do now.

you’ve certainly come a long way from a drug dealer's little trailer park princess sister, busting your ass working at the country club hoping you’ll eventually save up enough to afford college someday, to spending your days living the kook life at tannyhill and being spoiled absolutely rotten.

although your big brother was apprehensive at first to your courtship with the kook king himself given the fact that he knows rafe, he eventually came around to the idea; he even lets you live with rafe now for the most part, i mean you get to live in a mansion more comfortably than he’s ever been able to provide, so he had to be a little selfless. barry’s always been a little overprotective and very strict with you to keep you safe from the dangers of his lifestyle, but now so is rafe and he’s happy to be responsible enough to keep you out of trouble.

on the surface it seems like the most dangerous place you could be (well, right next to the dingy trailer of your drug dealer brother), but rafe promised your brother you’d be in good hands, a promise he fully intends to keep even if those hands are now covered in blood. all so you can sleep soundly in his arms dreaming of sugar plums, while rafe’s father pulls into the driveway with a dead body in the trunk.

‘rafe’ even just his whisper startles his son and causes you to stir a little bit when he jumps, though he quickly rubs your arm with his thumb soothingly as he turns just slightly to face his father, careful not to wake you in the process ‘what? what is it?’ so eager to help, yet there’s a small part of him deep down dreading leaving the comfort of your presence for what he’s sure can’t be anything good. but ‘i need your help’ is still enough temptation from the devil for him to get out of bed and smear a kiss to your hairline before following his father out to the driveway ready to do anything for daddy’s approval.

sometime in the middle of rafe carrying gavin’s body to the druthers, you stir from your slumber, searching for rafe in the covers only to come up empty, prompting you to open your eyes in hopes you’ll have more luck with your sight, but he’s still nowhere to be found. you creep into the hallway ‘rafe?’ nothing but an echoing sense of unease. not just at rafe’s absence, but the feeling of trepidation in such a large house; you’re still not quite used to it from growing up in a tiny trailer (because despite rafe’s efforts, you’re still not quite a real kook just yet, and other kooks don’t shy away from making it known behind rafe’s back). that and you can’t help the nagging sense that something is wrong.

you go downstairs for some water while you wait for rafe to come back from accessorizing a murder wherever he is. and as soon as you’ve finished filling your cup you turn around to see your boyfriend walking in suddenly scaring the hell out of you, you didn’t even hear him come in ‘hey baby, what’re you doin up?’ his voice still so raspy ‘i woke up without you, where’d you go?’ you pout, setting the glass down to wrap your arms around him but you still look up at him with those big doe eyes, and he can’t help but feel a familiar pitter patter in his heart at your clinginess; he quite literally just buried a body but less than a minute with you sends him right back to cloud 9 because fuck you’re the light of his goddamn life, and more than that you’re the only light in his goddamn life ‘just uh, had to help my dad with som‘in on the boat, nothin fancy. let’s getcha back to bed, yeah?’ you smile and nod before taking your water with you as he leads you back upstairs.

once you’re all settled in again, so does grim reality when rafe remembers he still has to find the gun in the drain ‘shit, i’m sorry baby, i gotta go take care of somethin else’ ‘what? more boat stuff?’ you’re joking but still he’s never been more grateful for your lack of knowledge on boats before ‘yeah, yeah, uh, i’ll be back soon as i can though okay?’ ‘okay’ you’re pouting again ‘aw c’mon don’t give me fuckin that look’ he starts rummaging around in his closet for some real clothes to wear just to avoid it ‘what look?’ you feign innocence ‘those fuckin bambi eyes you give me whenever you want somethin’ ‘i dunno whatchu mean’ ‘yeah sure you don’t, fuckin smartass’ you giggle at his grumbles, he comes back dressed for the day since it’s morning now and he still has to go find a murder weapon after all.

‘cmere gimme a kiss fore i go’ ‘promise not to be gone long?’ you look up at him with those big doey eyes once again, you need to make him promise so you can sleep easy knowing he’ll be there when you wake up again, but rafe just sighs ‘ion know how long this is gonna take baby, i said i’ll be back as soon as i can, can’t make any promises okay?’ you’re still just pouting at him so he rolls his eyes and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks, and kisses you himself, grumbling about how he has to do everything himself ‘just go back to sleep and i’ll see you later aight? promise’ ‘okay’ you huff in defeat ‘good girl, i love you’ ‘i love you too’ when you kiss him once more he has to refrain from kissing you again or else he’ll never leave the damn house.

eventually he manages to leave you and rides off on his motorcycle while you watch from the window. after he’s gone you flop back into bed sighing, maybe you can at least dream of him to keep you company while he’s out wondering how the hell he’s gonna explain this to your brother.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, likes / comments / reblogs of any support or feedback is the best way to show your appreciation, either way i’m so happy to have you here; i feel like there’s more i can explore with this so i’m down to write more of it if you guys want; but other than that i hope you have a lovely night, muah!

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satorusugurugurl · 3 months ago

Note

heya! I have a req - imagine Gojo tears up when yn kisses his forehead. he’s never felt so vulnerable 🫠

take care :)

Rest

Summary: After a long day of being Gojo Satoru— the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, your boyfriend gets to come home to your loving embrace.

Characters: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: sweet flufffy goodness, mentions of sleep deprivation, stress, overworking, but overall it’s really sweet!

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: Nonnie thank you for your request! I had so much fun writing this, Gojo deserves so much better! 💚💚💚

It was late, two thirty in the morning, to be exact, when the door to the bedroom finally creaked open. You stirred, wincing at the stiffness in your neck as you sat up, the book you read lying against your chest. But your neck didn't matter, not when Satoru was wincing as he slipped his shirt off and placed it in the hamper. His blindfold hand was loosely wrapped around his neck, giving you a perfect view of his dark circles.

“Toru?” You hesitantly asked, drawing his attention towards the bed.

Though you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, he smiled a little on the side but still smiled for you. “Hey, Sweetpea, I didn't wake you, did I?” He walked towards the edge of the bed, kissing your cheek.

“No, I had a stiff neck, so that woke me up.”

Cerulean eyes darted towards the book that was still resting on your chest. “I told you you didn’t have to wait up for me. Just because I had to work late doesn’t mean you have to deprive yourself of sleep.” Even when he was talking, you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Being the strongest sorcerer of the modern age was a curse in itself. Satoru was constantly on the move. Whether yanked away for missions or meetings with the higher-ups, he rarely had a break. Time for himself was a rarity. You hated seeing him so drained. Even if you confronted him about it, he would deny it. Putting on some arrogant, cocky attitude that he was the strongest and handling some extra meetings or taking on a few more missions wasn’t going to hurt him.

Your boyfriend could put on that kind of act for himself, his students, or even the higher-ups themselves. You knew he was tired, though. He could deny your accusations all he wanted. You, however, were fortunate enough to know him better than he knew himself. That facade was see-through when it came to you looking at him.

You wanted to tell him it was okay to be tired and set some time aside for himself. Deep down, you knew if you were to bring that up, Gojo would try to ensure you that everything was peachy. So, given the circumstances, you did the one thing you were able to do.

You would support him, be there for him when he needed to vent, and help him out as much as you could or as much as he would allow you to do.

“I was just reading; my book got really good. I just dozed off.”

“Mmm, you should put the book down and get some sleep.” Long ivory fingers caressed your cheek. “I don’t want you having a crooked neck because you were up reading your smut.”

“Leave my books out of this~” Satoru snickered, rolling his eyes as he pulled back, unbuckling his belt. “Go take a shower, then get your ass in bed.”

Satoru gave you a dorky salute as he headed into the bathroom, removing the rest of his clothing as he walked. You knew he was exhausted from the shower he took. Enough to wash the white tufts of hair and wash his body thoroughly. When he finished his shower, his mind was fuzzy with sleep deprivation. Finishing getting ready for bed was a blur, but he found himself climbing the sheets next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his head against your breasts.

Your warmth and the smell of you relaxed every muscle in his body as he rested his body weight against you. Satoru was so tired. He needed to think about going on vacation sometime soon. Getting away from the bustling life he was living sounded like a dream. One where you would join him, and the two of you would stay in bed, talking, watching movies, and enjoying each other‘s company for hours.

Thoughts of that had him snuggling his face further into your soft breasts. You could see the dark circles under his eyes from where you were propped up. Your poor boyfriend was being tugged in every way possible, which would take a toll on anybody. Just because he was the strongest didn’t mean everyone had a right to take advantage of him and use him as a weapon.

Gojo Satoru was human, and he deserved some praise and recognition. Normally, he provided that recognition for himself, occasionally giving himself a literal pat on the back. But it was nice to hear it from someone else, too. He deserved the world—nothing but happiness.

Sensing your body's tension, Satoru turned his head to look up at you. As he did, his soft white bangs moved with each turn of his head. You reached out, brushing some strands away, only stopping to push them back as if he were wearing his blindfold. His eyes glanced to where your hand was pushing up his hair, cerulean eyes almost crossing to get a glimpse.

No words needed to be said. You gave him the faintest smile before pressing your lips against his forehead. As your lips pulled away his skin, you could feel the tension in his body; fearing you may have crossed the line, you quickly pulled back, looking down at your chest with tears staining the thin fabric of your top.

“Toru?” Your voice was soft as if your words themselves would shatter him.

“W-What was that?”

“A forehead. a kiss, a little token of my appreciation for all your hard work.” You weren’t sure what to expect—maybe a thank you or a smile in return. What you met with instead was tears in his eyes. Tears that made the blue of his Iris stand out even more.”Toru! Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I just—that was different.”

Growing up as the strongest and as an only child had been rough. It didn’t matter that he was filthy rich. The staff at the house was constantly on him. His parents rarely came to see him or talk to him. Gojo was alone most of the time, and he found many of his favorite memories from that time when he snuck out of the estate and went exploring Tokyo, being held like this and having kisses planted against his forehead with something he had never experienced with anyone, even his mother.

And he liked it. Scratch that he loved it. Being able to rest in your arms to have you petting his head, and playing with his hair always had him relaxing. This was how he liked to spend his rare moments at home with you. To be in your arms, to have your fingers running through his soft hair, and to have your lips pressing against his forehead made everything he did worth it. He put so much time and effort into helping the next generation of sorcerers, trying to make this world a place he wanted to live in. The hours of the hard work he put in was worth it.

At the end of the day, he got to come home to you.

You were one of the only people who treated him like a human being rather than some tool to be used. So, after a long day of being pulled around, told what to do, and scolded, this was precisely what he needed. Gojo’s mind, body, and soul knew that, and they all worked against him and caused tears to well up in his eyes to make him feel vulnerable. Thiswas a feeling he somewhat liked as long as it was with you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I hope I didn’t insult you or make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I like it. I like it a lot, Sweetheart.” He slowly shut his eyes, his full white eyelashes resting against his cheek as he exhaled through his nose. “Could you do it again?”

Hearing him a king for you to kiss his forehead again had your heart swelling with a certain pride as you hummed happily, pressing your lips against his forehead while your nails gently scratched at his scalp. “Thank you for all of your hard work, Toru.” Your voice was angelic, easing Satoru further into the mattress as his body relaxed more, his mind slowly turning off. “Thank you for everything you do.” He hummed softly in response as he slowly began drifting to sleep, tears welling at the corners of his eyes before slowly streaming down his cheek.

Seeing the tears slowly sliding down his slightly flushed cheek had you abandoning one of your hands on the top of his head, your thumb quickly brushing the stray away. Once you were sure that the tears would stop flowing, your hands slowly drifted back up to the top of his head, continuing to scratch lazily at it as you shut your eyes, yawning, as Satoru hugged you tight, wrapping his arms around you not letting you out of his grasp. It was such a comforting and warm hug that left you feeling safe even when he fell asleep. Your nerves melted like snow on a spring day.

“I love you so much,” Satoru mumbled against your chest. Any other thoughts failed to reach his mouth; he began to breathe much deeper, falling into REM sleep.

But he didn’t have to say anything else. You simply priced one last very long kiss against the center of his forehead. When you finally managed to pull away, you found yourself cradling his head to your chest, allowing him to listen to your heartbeat because he fell asleep.

“I love you too, Toru.”

Yeah, all of his hard work was definitely worth coming home to this.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

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headkiss · 2 years ago

Text

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

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jenanigans1207 · 7 months ago

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“I don’t regret it, Dean.” Cas says quietly. “Telling you I love you was the best moment of my life.”

“Yeah? Well, it was the worst of mine!” Dean yells, throwing his arms out to the side. There’s a moment of stricken silence where Cas’s face falls and Dean realizes how his words came across. He rushes to elaborate. “Do you know how many years I wondered if angels could feel love? Romantic love? Do you know how long I hoped that they could— that you, specifically, could? And more than that, that you would feel it towards me? I wondered all the goddamn time, Cas. And then you— you finally—“ Dean swallows past a lump in his throat, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “You finally tell me not only that you can love, but you love me. Me. And in one second, ten years of my wildest dreams came true and then were ripped away.”

Dean looks down at his feet. Clenches his jaw against the feelings threatening to choke him. He tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose but it doesn’t help him feel any better.

“Dean—“

“I didn’t think I was ever gonna see you again.” Dean confesses to his boots. “I thought I’d have to live the rest of my miserable life knowing I could’ve had you and kicking myself for being such a dumb piece of shit.” He swallows again and looks up. “I thought you were going to spend eternity not knowing that I love you, too.”

“I didn’t mean— Dean, I didn’t—“ Cas shakes his head as words fail him.

“So yeah,” Dean shrugs a little helplessly, his voice still tight with emotion. “It was the worst moment of my life. Except for every moment that came after— because every single moment from your death until you came back was the worst moment of my life. Every moment without you is. And you coming back could’ve been the best moment of my life if you hadn’t been such an ass about everything.”

There was a time, once, in the distant past where Cas’s face never betrayed any emotion. Dean could’ve scrutinized every single molecule of his expression and he wouldn’t have been able to read a goddamn thing from it. That hasn’t been the case for a long time— Cas took to emotions and humanity better than Dean did, and it was the only thing Dean had ever known.

Now, Dean can read a multitude of emotions in Cas’s expression: disbelief in the slight part of his lips, hope in the blue of his eyes, shock in the rise of his eyebrows. He can practically read every thought going through Cas’s mind as he tries to process what’s happened.

And then, there it is: acceptance in the way the corner of Cas’s mouth ticks up.

“I had no idea.” Cas answers after a moment.

“‘Course you didn’t.” Dean replies, his own mouth mirroring the small smile. “You fucked off before I got a chance to say it back.”

“I just assumed—“

“You know what they say about assuming, Cas.”

“No, I don’t.” Cas is full on smiling now, warm and full of the love Dean had only ever seen hidden in shadows of his expressions. Now it’s practically splitting his face open, spilling out of Cas like he’s finally filled up with so much of it that it’s simply impossible to keep it all in. “And frankly, I don’t care. I only care about what you have to say.”

Dean huffs out a fond laugh as he shakes his head. “Finally gonna let me do the talking, huh?”

“I’m in the mood to do some listening,” Cas’s grin is dazzling and a little cheeky, Dean wants to memorize it immediately.

He takes a step closer to Cas. And then another. Cas simply watches him approach, making no attempt to back away. His personal space is inviting and Dean enjoys stepping directly into it with no hesitation.

“Well, I might be in the mood for something other than talking.” Dean whispers, less than a foot from Cas now.

“Oh?” Cas prompts, his hand reaching across the minuscule place between them to settle on Dean’s hip.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, leaning in. “But just to make sure you get it through your stubborn head: I love you, Cas. And I’ll fucking kill you if you ever do something like that again.”

Dean kisses him before Cas has a chance to reply.

#idk man #these idiots just won’t leave me alone #I never write fucking little ficlets and I’ve written like five for these assholes #they just make me so insane #I’m literally not in control anymore #ficlet #destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn

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vaguely-concerned · 14 days ago

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I think there is no better illustration of the more intimate, internal angle veilguard chooses to approach its characters and themes with than the fact that like... listen in this game we get to follow so much pain back to its source, and we find it really does permeate everything in thedas today on a level that evokes a kind of cosmic horror. the bones of the earth itself are broken open and drenched in trauma; the world is mired in suffering down to the core and the marrow. as above, so below. as outside, so inside. on the big scale, and the small. all of creation is a throat gone to bloody shreds from screaming in agony, when you allow yourself to listen. (maybe that's why we usually don't, or can't, bring ourselves to listen.)

...and yet the thing that makes me personally so desperately gnaw-my-own-arm-off sad that it feels like I could die from it is that in a run where you save minrathous, lucanis never gets out from the ossuary in his mind. what's worse, no one even knows he's in there. he's still in there. and there is no rescue on the way, because he's locked down so deep inside himself this time that there's no way for anyone to even understand there's a need for it. would he be able to welcome one, if someone did realize it and tried to reach him? You know him -- you can open the door, but he won't walk through. He won't move. There's nowhere to go. the way he says 'it doesn't matter what I want' with such utter, leaden, final resignation in the wrecked treviso cutscene is going to haunt me forever. it makes perfect sense to me you can't romance him after that, I'm not sure he's ever really here completely in that version of events, at least within the timeline the game takes place. he's just standing in the shitty awful ossuary torture room all alone, and no one's coming to find him.

and what is that, next to the millennia of suffering screaming through all of history and creation? well. nothing, of course, not really. a single plucked string in an endless deafening symphony of despair. one singular trapped and broken soul among the untold millions that have gone before and the untold more that will surely come after, that are being made as we speak in the conflicts and tragedies unfolding through the game. but more importantly it's also everything. to me. and to the game too. the game says this also matters. just as much as anything else, this pain matters and deserves to be loved and comforted. even in the face of all the suffering in the world, beneath the systems perpetuating all the banalities of evil, for good or for ill sometimes, we matter to each other. and what would be the point of anything, if we didn't? that's where hope lives. as long as you're alive, the right key might still arrive to gently open the locks of your mind, the right hand might reach out one day and you will bring yourself to take it. you don't know what tomorrow's going to be. if in the meantime the only thing we have to gain in staying is each other -- isn't that enough? isn't that everything? why does this one guy saved mean the world saved to me, a little bit? hello. hello. hello. there's stuff going on in the deep here.

when I say that the deep thematic spine of this game is so good and solid that the occasional clumsiness and false tones of the writing on top of it simply cannot hurt me... I think this is part of what I mean. works for every single one of the characters of course! lucanis' is the predicament that speaks to me most viscerally. for. uh. personal reasons there simply is no time to get into at this juncture lol. but just as much the idea that davrin can die before he could see the world freed from the blight and the need for wardens, or that harding can get cut down right at the beginning of a great revelation that could change everything and heal things no one had even dreamed could be healed. all of them are like this. each and every one of us has a world and so many stories inside that matter, and it's not to dismiss the larger systemic forces and evils that create so much of the suffering in the world to focus in on that for one installment of the series -- only to view it from a different angle that brings other things to light than what we're looking for normally in this series. it's worth looking at what's actually here.

(have you ever heard the poem 'good light' by andrea gibson? it's very good. you should check it out if you haven't, you can find it on youtube. it has these lines:

Come make it count Our finding each other like we found God Come root for the salt Come believing we can heal it all, even everything Even everything that has ever been done I know how much the pain of this world weighs But I can still tip the scales in light's direction Whenever I have your name on my tongue

and yeah. I think that's basically what I'm trying to say here.)

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age meta #every day my da:tv is in many ways da2 2 thesis grows stronger lol #I finished the game for the first time last night and already my neurons are doing. this. god help us all I guess

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bamfkeeper · 5 months ago

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Kurt has a bad night, he asks if he can stay with you.

I have my own thoughts about his past, but a lot of comics and stuff have shown it to be pretty terrible. I wish they'd show it more. Because I'm a freak who lives on angst.

Warnings: Bad dreams, mentions of past abuse/mistreatment, overall sad vibes but with comfort for our boi. Unedited lmao. Gender neutral reader. <3

WC: 2.8k

You awoke to a soft rap at your door, the grogginess in your head heavy as you slowly sat up from your slumber. The room was still dim as the gentle moonlight filtered through the curtains. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes when the rap repeated, more insistent this time, urging you to rise.

With a sigh, you slipped out of the warm cocoon of your sheets, feeling the chill of the early morning air on your skin. The floor was icy cold under your bare feet as you padded towards the bedroom door, each step making you more aware of the lingering drowsiness that clung to you.

Upon opening the door, you were taken aback to see Kurt standing there, looking quite disheveled and out of sorts. His curly hair was an unruly mess, and his clothes were wrinkled, adding to his overall appearance of exhaustion. He seemed not just tired, but also profoundly sad, or perhaps disturbed in some inexplicable way. You could see the weight of some unspoken burden in his eyes. "Kurt? It's the middle of the night..." you began quietly, your voice tinged with concern as your eyes scanned his entire body, noting every detail that hinted at his distress.

"Ja...ja, I know," he whispered, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear. "Do you mind...if I stay with you tonight?" His question caught you off guard, and you blinked as the sleep faded slightly at his question. He must've had a terrible night if he was asking to stay in your room. You couldn't help but wonder what had happened to make him feel so desperate for comfort.

Kurt had been too nervous to sleep with you before, something about not being able to keep himself under control or...maybe it just made him nervous? You remembered the times he had hesitated at your door, his eyes filled with a mix of longing and fear. Despite his apprehensions, however, you were more than willing to compromise. You loved him deeply and cherished your relationship, and if he wanted to keep separate bedrooms, so be it.

You had always believed that love was about understanding and respecting each other's boundaries, and you were prepared to do just that for Kurt.

As you looked him over, you could see him shaking a bit. His hands trembled slightly, and his eyes darted around nervously. Was he nervous? He seemed really upset, almost like he was fighting back tears, and it made your chest ache with concern. "Of course you can...come on." You moved from the door and let him come in, which he quickly did, almost as if he couldn't wait to get inside.

He stepped into your room and looked around, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with an air of desperation. His gaze lingered on the bed, as if it represented some form of comfort or solace he desperately needed at that moment.

"You can get in bed...if you want? Are you sure you're ready to sleep together?" you asked gently, your voice filled with concern and tenderness. You placed a comforting hand on his back, hoping to offer some reassurance in this vulnerable moment. However, you felt him flinch slightly under your touch, causing you to retract your hand quickly, worried that he might react poorly or feel uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," he responded quickly, almost as if on instinct. His voice was shaky and filled with uncertainty. "I...I didn't mean to..." he rasped out a quick apology, his words tumbling over each other in his haste to explain. He looked at you with wide eyes, like he were on the verge of panicking, his face a mix of fear and desperation. You could see the struggle within him, the conflict between wanting closeness and his fear of vulnerability. You felt a surge of empathy and wished there was something more you could do to ease his distress.

"Hey, hey... it's fine, Kurt..." you reassured him gently, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "What happened... do you want to talk about it? I'm here for you, and you can tell me anything."

He looked uncertain, as if he didn't even know where to begin. His eyes were cast downward, staring at his hands while he absentmindedly fiddled with the fabric of his clothes. After a moment, he glanced up at you, his eyes searching for reassurance. "I... just want to lay down... bitte," he murmured softly, his voice almost a whisper. You could see the weariness in his expression and knew he needed some time to process whatever was troubling him.

You both managed to crawl into your bed, with him making himself right at home, curling up in the sheets and laying down. He curled up like a cat, his legs drawn up close to his body, and his tail wrapped around him as he nestled into a tight ball. The sight of him doing this was both endearing and concerning. You could tell that something was wrong, but you didn't want to push too hard for him to open up and tell you about it. Instead, you chose to give him some space, hoping that in time he would feel comfortable enough to share what was bothering him. You watched him for a moment, your concern growing.

You slipped in next to him, slowly and gently pulling the blankets over the two of you, wrapping you both in a comforting cocoon. He seemed so meek and vulnerable in that moment, which was quite unexpected and strange to see. He murmured an apology to you, his voice soft and filled with regret, looking up from his little spot. As he uncurled ever so slightly, you noticed the weariness in his eyes. "I have not had...the best of nights," he confessed, his words carrying weight you didn't like to hear.

"How so...?" you questioned gently, your voice soft and filled with concern, wanting to be patient, yet also eager to understand what was troubling him. You slowly scooted closer, trying to offer comfort through your presence, hoping that your proximity would provide some solace. Kurt sat up a little more, his posture shifting as he took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with a heavy sigh. His eyes seemed distant, as if he was searching for the right words to articulate his feelings, the weight of his emotions clearly visible on his face.

"I had a bad dream," he started, cringing to himself at how childish that sounded. He felt embarrassed telling you he had a nightmare, but he wanted to get it out so you understood. "It was when I was still living in Germany, at the circus."

"Oh," you replied gently. You honestly didn't know much about the time he spent there. You only knew of the performances and the random small things he'd mention, like the colorful costumes and the lively crowds, but none of it was ever bad. You had heard anecdotes of the tightrope walkers and the clowns, but never anything that seemed dark or troubling. So you weren't sure what caused the nightmare.

"What was the nightmare of...?" your voice softly broke the heavy silence, causing him to flinch slightly. His mind wandered back to the harrowing treatment he had endured at the hands of the owner. He recalled the brief, haunting flashes of the small, cold cage he was kept in, the suffocating confinement that gnawed at his spirit. He could almost feel the searing burn in his veins from the drugs he had been injected with to keep him quiet, the chemicals coursing through his body, numbing his senses. All the while, he remembered the crowds that stared at him, their eyes cold and unfeeling, regarding him as nothing more than a mere spectacle, just another animal to gawk at and forget.

He hated remembering. How he had been stripped of all humanity, treated like a creature not meant to be. Drugged and caged, it was utterly humiliating.

"I performed...but it was not all good things. After each of my performances, I was given a drug to keep me docile and weak, making it easier for them to control me. Once the show was over, I was kept in a cage where I spent most of my time when I wasn't performing in the big tent. There wasn't anything in the cage besides some sparse hay scattered on the floor, which didn't really do much..." he mumbled. "It was cold and hard, laying on the surface hurt my joints after so long. But...what could I do?"

You listened intently as Kurt began to describe the horrific conditions he was kept in, and your heart ached terribly with every word he spoke. "They didn't give me much to eat," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I felt sick a lot of the time. The owner wasn't nice at all... He treated me just like the animals. When I trained, he would use a whip on me, just like he did to them." Kurt's voice was filled with a quiet resignation as he continued to recount the harrowing experiences he had endured.

The pain and suffering he had gone through were evident in his every word, painting a vivid picture of the cruelty he had faced in your mind, making you want to cry for him. You imagined a younger Kurt, being forced to flip around until his feet hurt while an angry man lashed him bloody. It made you angry, your emotions burning you up inside, even if it was all in the past.

Kurt swallowed thickly, pausing for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. "I just...my dream was about all that," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I was there again, back in that horrid place. I felt the cold metal of the cage around me, trapping me, making me feel so small and powerless. They were giving me drugs to make me weak, I felt the substances sap my strength and will to move at all. Strangers were surrounding me, faceless figures poking and prodding me through the bars. They were trying to get a reaction from me, as if I were some kind of experiment, as if I couldn't think or speak for myself. It was as if they saw me as less than human, just a creature to be studied and tormented."

It was truly awful to listen to. Hearing the unvarnished truth about his upbringing was absolutely heartbreaking. You couldn't have imagined he had experienced such harrowing things, especially considering that the only things he ever mentioned prior to this were lighthearted and fun. He would occasionally showcase an acrobatic skill or share random knowledge about specific animals, most of which were used in the circus. His stories were always filled with a sense of wonder and excitement, he had a ways with words, the dear showman he was.

But Kurt had never mentioned anything remotely like this before. It was as if a curtain had been pulled back, revealing a world of pain and hardship that he had kept hidden. The contrast between his usual cheerful anecdotes and this sudden revelation was stark and deeply unsettling. It made you see him in a completely new light, amazed at the strength it must have taken for him to carry such a burden while still managing to bring joy to others.

From the little he mentioned, an onlooker might not think it’s that big of a deal, but you had to consider the fact that he endured these hardships almost his entire life. His upbringing, starting from infancy and continuing until the moment Xavier found him, was filled with severe mistreatment. He was beaten regularly, starved to the point of extreme malnutrition, drugged with substances that left him in a constant haze, and kept in captivity as if he were one of those beautiful but tragic animals in a zoo. This cycle of abuse and neglect shaped his entire existence, leaving deep emotional and physical scars that would take a lifetime to heal.

And he somehow still managed to see the good in the world. In everyone.

You could tell he was struggling to continue, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and exhaustion. Instead of pressing him with more questions that might overwhelm him, you just gently tugged him a little closer, offering silent support. "It's okay," you murmured softly, your voice filled with warmth and reassurance. "You are here now, somewhere safe. I'm here with you, I always will be." You wanted him to feel every bit of your sincerity. As you spoke, you pulled him to lay even closer, deciding that tonight was a good night to be the big spoon, wrapping him in your protective embrace. He needed you right now, and you were more than happy to provide him with the comfort and security he needed.

Kurt scooted closer, his tail wrapped securely around your leg and his face buried deeply into your chest. He loves you profoundly, cherishing not only your presence but also how you allowed him to share something so deeply personal without any judgment or excessive questions. He didn't feel like explaining or answering questions at that moment. He just... needed your comfort, your warmth, and the unspoken understanding that you would be there for him no matter what. Your silent support made him feel safe and accepted, his eyes burned with tears that threatened to pour out, he tried so hard to hold it in.

You could feel his body shake more intensely as he laid there with you, his shoulders racked with silent crying, and you couldn't stand to see him in such pain. The sight of his sorrow broke your heart into pieces. Your hand gently rubbed his back in a soothing manner, and you tugged him closer to you, your arms tightening slightly around him as if to shield him from his anguish. "It's okay," you whispered softly and reassuringly, trying to convey all the love and comfort you could through those simple words.

Your reassurance helped immensely, providing him with the comfort and security he desperately needed. He cried quietly, finally giving in to his overwhelming emotions and letting out everything he had been holding in for so long. For months, he had bottled up all his problems, always putting others before himself and never considering that he should prioritize his own well-being. The weight of his emotions had been building up for so long, and the bad dreams he had been experiencing recently were the final straw that pushed him over the edge. It was a release of months of pent-up emotion.

He needed this release desperately; it was a cathartic experience for him, allowing him to purge the overwhelming emotions that had built up inside. And you were there, steadfast and unwavering, grounding him amidst the turmoil that threatened to consume him. You were his shelter, his rock, supporting him with soothing whispers and tender kisses on his temple as he cried quietly against you. Kurt tried his best not to let his tears fall on you, but you didn't care in the slightest. Your only concern was to keep him close, right against your chest, providing the comfort and solace he so desperately needed.

Kurt's crying gradually slowed down and he finally stopped, his little sobs quieting and his uneven breathing becoming more steady, only hitching every so often as he tried to calm himself. He stayed curled up against you, feeling more comforted and secure than he ever had before in his life. In that moment, he cherished you deeply, more than words could express. "Danke...I..I did not mean to get so...emotional," he whispered softly, his voice tinged with embarrassment about his unexpected breakdown. He glanced up at you, seeing the kindness and love in your eyes.

"It's okay, Kurt. I promise. I'm here for you, no matter what you need. If you need a good cry like this, then so be it," you reassured, your voice gentle and soothing. "I just want you to know that you're not alone, you're safe, surrounded by family now," you continued, emphasizing the word 'family' to remind him that he is in a place where he is loved and cared for. "We all care about you deeply, especially me..." You kissed his forehead lightly while your thumb wiped his cheek. "And we'll get through this together. Whatever happens, we'll face it side by side.”

With your gentle reassurance and comforting presence, he finally found the peace he needed to fall asleep. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his night wasn't plagued by the harsh and haunting memories of the circus. Instead of being tormented by those painful recollections, he slept peacefully throughout the night. Nestled securely in your arms, he lovingly nuzzled even closer to your chest, finding solace and warmth in your embrace.

Undisturbed rest had eluded him long enough.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #x men #x men 97 #xmen #🎠my works

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astarionancuntnin · 6 months ago

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Nothing But A Dream

summary: you've agreed to take things slow with astarion, only partaking in nighttime activities when he specifically desires them, and this morning, he wants you, but he would hate to intrude on your precious beauty sleep.

rating: E

word count: 1.6k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: 18+. MIND THE TAGS! light fluff, established relationship, somnophilia, cnc/mildly dubious consent, light choking, p in v, creampie, cock soaking. full list on ao3

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

Ever since defeating the Absolute, you’ve been enjoying your quiet life in the Underdark with Astarion. You agreed to take things slow when it comes to sex; he still wanted to experience this with you, but he needed time to feel truly like himself when being intimate. It wasn’t an issue for you, and you were open to take as much time as needed and indulge him in anything he wanted to try, whenever he wanted to, for as long as he didn’t feel pressured by it. You knew how important this was for him, after the discussion you had following the defeat of Cazador, and the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable.

Even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud yet, you sensed how he enjoyed the proximity you shared without the pressure of sex. It’s in the way he allowed himself to relax when he was with you, as you laid close on the sofa while you were both reading, or how he insisted to wash your hair and style it afterwards – it drives him crazy how little care you give it – when you were taking baths together, so he could look at you like you were his masterpiece, but what he told you he preferred were those lazy mornings cuddling in bed naked. He would lay over your chest, skin to skin, listening to the lulling melody of your soft heartbeat. Finding comfort in your warmth reminded him of the sun’s embrace that he missed dearly. Those were the moments he cherished the most, where he was able to see you being at your most vulnerable, on display, just for him.

You were a heavy sleeper, and with no real responsibilities anymore, you allowed yourself to sleep-in way more often than you used to (you deserved it, after all, who would blame the Saviour of Baldur’s Gate for indulging in a little respite). It’s not something Astarion was able to do, but he had no reason to get up on his own and do anything else. What point would there be of doing anything without you, the very reason he kept on living? This morning was no exception, as you laid bare in the warmth of your bed with Astarion hugging you from behind.

As you slightly move half-awake, you feel his hand ghosting over your hips, and eventually cupping your tender breasts. You happily moan into his touch, loving how his grip held all of you ever so perfectly. It wasn’t necessarily sexual when he did it, rather comforting – as much for him than for you – and you loved how he cradled you as if you were going to slip out from his grasp at any moment, holding on tight to you. There was one thing that felt different today, but in the bliss of your slumber, you weren’t able to quite put your finger on it. You hum, checking in on him as you feel him grab onto you rougher than usual, with his nails digging into the soft skin of your boobs.

“So sorry dear, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, his voice deep, as if he himself had just woken up.

“Mh, you okay?” You mumble, still in limbo.

“Everything is just fine darling,” he kisses your shoulder softly. “Go back to sleep.”

Astarion’s honeyed voice in the crook of your neck brings you comfort and you find yourself following his words, nuzzling into your pillow as you back up into him further, seeking for more contact from him. In your dazed state, you think you can hear him growl softly, and you pay it no mind at first, until you feel something poke harder at your back and his hot breath upon your shoulder. This, along with his hand kneading your breast constantly, have you feeling a warmth pool to the bottom of your stomach that was becoming difficult to ignore. You try to shift around in your dazed state only to find Astarion holding you tightly in place, stopping you from moving at all.

“ ‘starion?” You mutter, as you finally awaken.

“Shh, you’re alright, love,” he purrs, his voice but a whisper.

“What are you– ah–!”

His hand leaves your boobs to sneak down between your legs, sliding between your folds to find the dampness that’s been accumulating there.

“Aren’t you the neediest little thing,” he groans, his voice becoming darker as his fingers lazily massage over your clit. “You can relax, dear, I just need you to stay still now.”

The stimulation he’s been providing between your legs finally stirs you completely awake, hazy from his touch. He slides his cock just between your folds and that’s when you realize what the firmness in your back was. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart to help him ease in, wanting him to go further, but he closes your thighs back together, uttering in a raspy voice.

“Tsk tsk, I said relax. You need not do anything.”

“Are you sure about this?” You manage to say through your breathy voice.

“Very much so,” his other hand wraps around your throat pulling you back, only applying a light pressure around your neck and a whimper escapes you. “Now, be good for me, will you, darling?”

You nod, as much as you can with his hand around you, and close your eyes, letting him use you as he sees fit. His hand over your waist holds your legs tightly together, as he slides his length between your legs, getting his cock wet from your folds. His rhythm starts slow as he gets accustomed to the sensation, and the friction it creates has you panting, as your own pleasure builds up.

"Oh doll, are you enjoying me using you in your sleep? How depraved," he growls and you feel yourself getting soaked from the sound of his voice and his shaft sliding over your entrance.

It had been so long since you had been intimately close, you had almost forgotten the surprising size of him. You wanted nothing but for him to slide inside of you and indulge in his carnal desires, to use and defile you as if you were nothing but a toy to him, but you let him completely take the reins on this one, let him reclaim his sexual and bodily autonomy the way he chose to, and this morning, it involved fucking you while you were asleep, without you moving as much as a muscle. He chose to focus on his own needs, and in doing so, you discovered a new form of pleasure.

You hear him grunt as his thrust become more erratic, with his nails digging inside the soft skin of your hips, and the wet sounds of your juices slipping over his cock between your legs, and although this was meant for him to focus on his own pleasure, having him handle you this way after many weeks apart brought you close to your edge just as fast as he did. You find yourself contracting the muscles of your thighs together, squeezing around his shaft tighter and at the same time, providing additional stimulation to your clit

“Gods– ah, you feel too good, dear, I won’t last much longer,” he breathes behind you, his growling turning primal now, making him almost unrecognizable. “Can I slide inside of you? It’ll just be the tip, please, I need to feel you.”

You’re not even sure if he heard the “yes” you barely manage to voice out, when you feel him plunge inside of you in one strong push, your pussy offering little to no resistance in the state it is.

“Fuckkk, I've missed how you feel wrapped around me,” he groans. “So sorry love, I simply can’t resist your cunt when it's drooling for me like that,” he resumes his thrusts into you, nearing the point of his own climax, when he hears you whimpering. “You've been so good for me, I just need you to hold on a bit longer. Can you do that for me, my sweet?”

You’re way past the point of answering, reduced to small cries and gasps as he rams recklessly into your needy cunt. When you hear him whine your name, you clench around him, hit by the waves of your orgasm. As your walls tighten around him, he finally stills inside, pushing your hips flush against his to shoot his seed deep inside your womb. You feel his cock pulsing inside of you as he unloads himself and the sensation sends an additional wave of electricity through your body.

You’re both left as panting messes, bathing in a mix of your combined sweat and come as you come down from your high. He rests with his forehead against your shoulder as he catches his breath.

“Wouldn’t want to make a mess here, it’d be better if I just stayed inside you, don’t you think?” He says between breaths, and you hum, your voice still out for the count, as he smiles behind you. “I thought so. Now, I believe you have a beauty sleep you need to catch up on, you should try to rest a bit more before we face the day.”

Even if you wanted to get up, you wouldn’t have been able to, as this session got you as tired as if you had never slept in the first place. He snuggles back into the position he initially was, with the additional embrace your cunt was providing around him, and leaves a loving kiss over your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. As you close your eyes, ready to drift back into a deep slumber, he whispers softly:

“Thank you, my love.”

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard

#my posts #my writing #astarion smut #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3 smut #ao3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #writers on tumblr #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #bg3 x tav #astarion x female reader #cnc somno #somno k!nk #cnc k!nk

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zaine-m · 27 days ago

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I like to think that Jayce and Viktor get a happy ending in the other universe too

Jayce feels awful that hextech took a life. Especially seeing powder (who is around the same age he was when him and his mom were saved by hextech) holding her dead sister's body

He says similar things as in the start of the trial but now fully meaning them and never mentions trying to create magic

Vander comes to Jayce's trial and stands up for him, saying he's just a stupid kid with a dream to help people who didn't know what he was doing

"Vi's with her mom now, let Jayce go home to his"

He does still sneak into his lab to attempt suicide but this time Viktor's "am I interrupting?" doesn't do anything, Jayce just turns back around and jumped, not being able to handle the guilt of accidentally taking a life while also realizing his life's work only caused harm

He survives the attempt and wakes up in a hospital bed, paralyzed from the waist down with his mother crying next to him

Viktor comes in a bit later while his mom is out making some food for him

His tone is completely too cold for the situation. Jayce is in complete despair and Viktor refuses to match the mood

He says most of the same stuff about how hextech can change people's lives but Jayce responds "yeah, well so far all it's done is a take the life of an innocent child"

"ehh, she was from the undercity. I grew up there, many children did not live to see adulthood"

"How does that make anything better?"

"Because this has the potential to change that. One explosion? There are toxic fumes and polluted waters slowly killing hundreds of children each year"

"Even if I wanted to I'm banned from the academy and ..." *waves at legs*

"pshh, you think trenchers are supposed to be at the academy and everything I did in my life I did while being disabled"

"Listen, I can't help you"

Viktor leaves Jayce's bracelet by his bed and heads towards the door. Jayce takes one look at it and throw it across the room in anger. "you probably shouldn't throw that", "GET OUT!"

A while later Vander comes to invite Jayce to Vi's memorial at the last drop

Jayce feels so guilty when he first comes into the last drop, everyone is staring at him

He sees Ekko, the kind little kid who had sold him such reasonably prices wares just days before his experiments accidentally killed his friend

Powder just starting going at him when she first sees him, her weak child-who-has-never-punched-before fists do very little damage especially because she's going so fast she doesn't fully pull her hands back

Jayce just lets her at it, crying and apologizing between the blows

Vander comes to pull Powder off of him, "it wasn't his fault, he didn't know how dangerous the materials were" she just looks back and screams at him before going back to her bedroom

Vander takes Jayce on a walk through the undercity to talk,

"Everyone in there knew what I did?"

"huh, no?"

"they were looking at me like I was a monster"

"yeah, that's cause you're dressed like a piltie"

"ohh, ha... I'm so sorry about what happened to Vi"

"It's a shame, but she's with her parents now"

*Jayce looks down, only feeling worse finding out the girl he killed was an orphan*

"You want to know how her parents died?" *they arrive at the bridge* "I thought I could help the undercity, create a better world by fighting for sovereignty. I led us across this bridge and lost so many people in the process, the undercity is still recovering"

"I'm so sorry"

"I was like you, I was young and ambitious and I wanted to help people. But you know what I learned. You don't need to make giant leaps to help the people around you"

On the way back Vander points out all the ways he's helped different people in the undercity, helping them make a business plan, caring for their kids when they were sick, helping them find a community at the last drop

He also points out all the things that could be helped like roofs with holes in them and cliffs that should have railings

"You don't need hextech to help the world, Jayce"

Jayce spends his time between his family's forge doing hammer work and around the undercity working as a handyman, building what he can to help people

Eventually he tracks down Viktor, hoping to find ways to make a more systemic change for things like the dirty water and polluted air

Viktor works on studies surveying the living conditions of those in the undercity and seeing what affects it has on expected lifespan and the likelihood of developing different diseases to present to the council

That along with the more pro-Zaun push that's been happening since Vi's death he gets quite a bit of work done

While he's doing this Jayce does what he can to start implementing changes by making water filters and distributing masks to those in the slump levels

After a few years Jayce petitions to be let back into the academy to help Viktor with his work on a formal level and with outstanding testimonials from many people in the undercity he's let back in

When their work making the undercity safer is done they move onto studying how to treat the various illnesses people in the undercity have suffered from living there

first starting with Viktor's various physical health issues and finding that a lot of his issues come from it never being studied how to use mobility aids and how improper use can put a strain on other parts of your body so he switched to a forearm crutch to help his back

I'm gonna say in this universe Viktor just has severe asthma which they're able to find medicines to treat so he still has issues breathing in a lot of the undercity, he just wears a mask most of the time and keeps his medication with him

Viktor and Jayce end up dating but it happens to slowly that it's hard to realize, they just spend all their time together working on their research and then they get an apartment together because they were both looking for roommates

Jayce stopped looking for people to date after the accident because he was going through a big life change and never got back in the game and Viktor always rejected anyone, saying he was too busy with his studies

Jayce is just physically affectionate in a way where hugging Viktor a lot turns into Viktor sitting on his lap whenever his leg is sore turns into Jayce playing with Viktor's hair when he's bored turns into them cuddling on the couch turns into them cuddling in bed turns into kisses on the forehead when one of them is sick turns into kisses when they're not sick

They're at the last drop one day and Viktor gets up off Jayce's lap to use with washroom and Vander asks Jayce, "so you think you'll propose soon" Jayce almost spits out his food, "what, what do you mean?"

"I mean you've been dating for like what 5 years now. You gotta pop the question sooner or later"

"umm... yeah" wait fuck are we dating, have we been dating for 5 years, what

In bed that night: "Viktor, I... I think I might like you... like romantically. I guess I never thought about it but I was talking to Vander and... and you've been the most important person in my life for the past like 6 years"

"Jayce, I thought we were dating? How are you only realizing this now"

"ohh"

"I called you my partner"

"I thought you meant like research partner"

"we kissed a lot"

"I thought those were like just for comfort... between friends"

*Viktor kisses him passionately but not the most passionately they've kissed before*

"Does that seem like it would be between friends?"

"heh, now that you mention it I guess not"

#arcane #jayce talis #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #jayvik #just scroll to the bottom to read fluff

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neptuneiris · 1 month ago

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could you pretend to be in love? (10/10)

The Realization

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: prom is coming and so is the end of a stage in your life. surprises and unexpected conversations take place, the question is, are you able to forgive in order to move on?

word count: 9.7k

previous part • series masterlist

this is not a drill, it's really happening!

first of all, i want to apologize for having left this story aside without finishing it. it wasn't something i decided, the writer's block precisely in this fic made me not try anymore for a while, mostly to clear my mind and my ideas, because i had no idea what to write after chapter nine 💀

so I hope you really forgive me and enjoy the last chapter 🥺 it has been an honor to have given you this little fic, I really enjoyed writing it despite the little mental breakdowns I had haha

and just like my other stories, I keep it in my heart and it will always be here for whenever you want to reread (I will make sure to post it in AO3, don't worry) i'm also thinking of doing a poll about the epilogue where you guys will decide if you want one or prefer this ending. let me know after you finish reading the chapter 🤗

enjoy and I look forward to your comments!

It still all feels like a bad dream that you can't wake up from. An unwanted dream. A nightmare.

And every time a new day comes, you feel like a human being who does everything in automatic mode, not because you really want to.

In front of your dad you must pretend that everything is fine, but as soon as you leave home and get to school, you feel a huge weight and a sadness that nothing and no one can take away from you.

You feel the stares of some people on you, if not all of them. But the truth is that you feel so emotionally drained that you don't even pay attention to them.

Many would say that not being accepted to a college doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Nor does it mean that your chances are over because there is still too much time to be able to do everything you want.

And you accept that they are right. All is not lost because you didn't get accepted.

When you were rejected the first time when you applied in conjunction with the scholarship, disillusionment sets in. There is disappointment in yourself for not being enough and there is this question that constantly floats in your mind; why others do and I don't? Why am I not worthy of the same fate as them?

Maybe it's age, but it's inevitable to feel that rejection and failure after having so many plans and having in mind the idea of making your dad proud by telling him that you've been accepted to college.

And not just any college, but Citadel.

But so far, you haven't had the courage to tell him instead that you won't go to any college. You just can't. You don't know what exactly you'll tell him and you don't want to face it yet. You don't want to see his disappointed face so you need more time.

So instead of dreams and aspirations, as well as preparing to live a college life, you prepare and focus on getting a job. You don't see employment as a bad thing either. You just wish you didn't have to focus on it right now.

You haven't talked to Aemond either. You haven't even seen him.

You're in some classes together. But you barely pay attention. Even though you used to notice his presence before and now, unconsciously, you ignore it. Now your mind is too busy with your worries.

It's like being in a disconnect. You are just there, existing. But you barely talk, barely react and barely do. You just want classes to end soon so you can go home.

Of course, he hasn't stopped trying.

He wants to talk to you, but you won't let him. You just don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Even though you feel that emptiness he has left, you immediately force yourself not to think about it.

It's like pain and confusion mixed together, but your pride and that same pain makes you prefer to stay away.

You don't even care anymore what people say about him and you. It's obvious that the two of you are no longer in a 'relationship'. No one knows what happened and neither one of you is clarifying anything.

Which you are grateful for, so as not to feed the topic in the whole school.

Meanwhile, Alysanne and Cregan are almost always around you, trying to cheer you up and make you endure school better. You couldn't be more grateful for both of them either.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?"

Alysanne asks as the three of you are sitting on a bench in the outside courtyard. On the bench where you and Aemond made the fake relationship contract, precisely. But you try not to focus on that as the three of you eat lunch.

"We're going to the movies, did you forget already?" asks Cregan, confused.

"Huh? This weekend?"

"You forgot," he assures her.

"I didn't forget!" she lies, nervous.

"We agreed to go on Saturday. To the ten o'clock function for the horror movie."

Oh yes, the two of them are dating. Just as you and Aemond have 'broken up', so you try not to feel more distressed about it.

"Do you want to come, Y/N?"

You raise your gaze to Alysanne, confused, who gives you a smile.

"It's a date, isn't it? Just the two of you."

"We'll have more dates," she makes a nonchalant gesture.

Poor Cregan.

"Besides, it would do you good to clear your head a bit. So, what better than going to the movies? Right, Cregan?"

"Yeah, it'll do you good," he nods.

"No, thank you," you say softly, "I don't want to interfere with your dates. Besides, I'm not in the mood to go out. I'd rather stay home."

"You're not going to interfere with anything. Besides, you've stayed home enough days," she reproaches you, "Come on. Even one night. We'll have a great time."

"If you don't want to go to the movies, we can go somewhere else," Cregan proposes.

You grimace slightly.

"No, thank you. I..." you sigh, "I really appreciate it, guys. But I'd rather stay home."

Staying home to look for a proper job and plan to tell your dad you won't be going to college, like you've been doing for the past few days.

"Are you sure?" Alysanne looks at you not entirely convinced.

"Yeah," you shrug, "Don't worry about me."

"Of course I worry about you."

"You should focus on your date," you say as you give Cregan a meaningful look.

"Totally," Cregan nods, "In fact, she'll plan the next date."

"What?" she looks at him in horror.

"What you heard."

"And why me?"

"Because I always do."

Your talk with them doesn't last long as soon the bell rings and they head off to their respective classes, except for you, who has a free hour.

So you stand on the bench alone, just looking outside and nothing else, enjoying your lunch unhurriedly and in peace and quiet.

You let out a long breath and distract yourself for a few moments in your social networks, watching as some people post their reactions from when they were accepted to colleges. Everyone screams, smiles and cries of happiness with their families.

Except for others who quietly show how they were not accepted. But they open more emails and get accepted to other colleges.

You wish you were part of them.

You close those apps and go to Tiktok to distract yourself for a while by watching funny videos or storytimes.

When suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching behind you, which catches your attention. You turn your head, peeking over your shoulder and then you see him, Aemond.

He stops as soon as your eyes look directly into his, as if you've caught him in the act of robbery. Which reveals how very cautious he was being to approach and not scare you.

You see the uncertainty in his gaze, the insecurity and the wariness all at the same time. Which is rare for him, as he doesn't allow himself to look so vulnerable. But you understand why he's this way with you.

First you think about getting up and leaving him with the word in his mouth, like you've been doing lately. But for some reason, it's like finally your mind resigns and your body will force you to stay where you're sitting. And you don't even know why.

Or maybe it's because he's begging you with his gaze not to leave and listen to what he has to say after so many weeks.

Inevitably your nerves invade you and neither he nor you say anything for a few long seconds. He just stands still, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you will move away from him again attentively.

Then he swallows hard and watches you with a sad but hopeful expression.

“Can I come closer?”

You press your lips together, think about it for a few seconds and finally give him a barely visible nod.

You turn your gaze to the front and begin to put your tupper with food in your backpack. While at the same time Aemond approaches you, cautious but firm. And surprised that you are allowing him to do this.

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your hair, nervous, not knowing why.

Then he steps in front of you and only at that moment, you realize he has a folder in his hand. A folder that he sets down on the table in front of you, with smooth, cautious movements.

“I just came to drop this off for you. Nothing else.”

You raise your gaze to look at it confused for a moment, then look back down at the folder in front of you.

“It's the paperwork you need to submit to finalize the scholarship process,” he says softly, “Classes start in two months and by now you should have received an email from the university with all the information as an incoming student.”

Wait, what?

Your mind immediately questions, as you frown more and feel your heart start to beat too fast.

“What are you talking about?” you ask in a low murmur, not understanding.

And Aemond lets out a long breath.

“I'm keeping my promise.”

His words echo steadily in your mind.

And you dare to raise your gaze to him again, confused, serious and incredulous. And what he does is lower his gaze, sorrowful and unsure. However… he is firm with what he is saying.

Then a tingle begins to run through your hands, at the same time as you feel the nervousness sweep through your body like a wave. You part your lips as you look at the folder in front of you and with trembling hands, you pick it up and open it.

The first thing you see is the university logo and an overwhelming sensation sweeps over your body and mind as you see what appears to be a letter addressed to you.

Miss. Y/N Y/L/N, Faculty of Law. Official documentation for the scholarship process.

You feel the air you were holding in your lungs slowly leave your mouth. And a huge weight that you felt in your chest is lifted, allowing you to rest and breathe properly.

At first, you think your mind is playing a joke on you. You think he's doing it. But… this is real. More real than you can imagine.

“I know I didn't do things the right way…

Aemond begins to speak, noticing the mix of shock and confusion in your gaze, breathing hard through your mouth.

“I know I took you for granted and that I hurt you,” he says softly, “But that was never my intention, Y/N. I-I… I thought I would get everything under control. That I would work it out and get everything done on time. But, it's just… I don't even have justification.”

You feel tears begin to form in your eyes. But you control yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to let his words make you break down in tears.

As if the fact that you have in front of you one of the papers confirming and assuring you that you will finally go to the college of your dreams isn't enough.

“I should have acted sooner and looked for solutions. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. And you don't know how sorry I am,” he says softly and vulnerably, his gaze lowered, ”I also don't expect you to forgive me for keeping a promise and asking for forgiveness. I know I fucked up and things can never go back to the way they were. But I just want you to know…” he takes a moment, "That I really did fall in love with you."

Fuck.

“What I felt for you was real. It was never a game or a pretense. I was just… afraid,” he admits, ”Afraid of fucking up what we had. Afraid it would all fall apart if I told you the truth. But… I ruined everything,” he says with a resigned tone, ”You don't have to talk to me again either if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you the truth and let you know how sorry I am.”

Each word echoes in your mind, with the weight of his regret and his sincerity. You feel the tremble in your body, not helping the fact that you are still staring at the college sheet addressed to your name.

And you hold back, trying to calm the chaos being unleashed inside you by his words.

When he doesn't say anything else, you certainly won't and you both fall silent for a moment, as the weight of his words and the meaning of them fill the space. Until he speaks again.

“I won't bother you anymore,” he moves forward a bit back to the way he came, “Best of luck at Citadel. You deserve it, you really do,” he tells you with a small smile that is sad but genuine at the same time.

Then his figure disappears from your field of vision and you hear him start to walk away. And at that moment, the world seems to stop for you.

Unable to help yourself, you turn your head and watch him walk away with tears in your eyes. There is something in his walk, in that slight slope of his shoulders, that screams the burden he carries. And you don't know why, but… you want to call him, to tell him something that will ease the knot you both feel.

However, you know that won't fix anything.

You feel the air leave you, his words still echoing in your mind. You stare at the folder again, trying to remember what this achievement meant to you before this moment, before he came and stirred all the emotions in you.

You try to be strong, you try not to let this affect you more than it should, you think of the positive. But you can't.

So still in disbelief, excitement, sadness and with all your emotions mixed up, you take your phone, unlock it and open your emails app. And there, your most recent email, you read: Citadel University.

With your hands shaking, you press the email and read in slightly larger letters: Welcome to Citadel University! Miss Y/N, Y/L/N. Faculty of Law, Registration number: 31982.

Then, finally, you can't hold back the tears any longer and you put a hand to your mouth, letting them out, with confused and intense feelings coming over you.

Your father's loving and proud words, hugs and kisses make you smile.

It took you four days to finally break the news to him. And seeing him so happy, excited and proud, made you finally stop feeling so bad for even a moment. You also broke the news to Alysanne and Cregan, who were very happy for you.

Neither of them mentioned Aemond, which you appreciated. But there is the clear acknowledgement to him for making this possible.

You obviously left the job search behind and instead started contacting the university. You sent the missing and necessary documents, they sent you information about the scholarship, your schedule, classes and also about your dorm.

It's like finally this void in your chest is being filled as you finally see this all happening. And as you look at the pictures of the university, with old, elegant and modern architecture at the same time, that excitement rises in you.

However, what you feel is not happiness in its entirety.

In fact, you feel in the middle of a crossroads; joy is mixed with sadness. And the satisfaction of fulfilling the dream feels incomplete.

The worst part is that you know why.

But you don't think about it too much either. You don't want to. On the contrary, you force yourself to repeat over and over again that this was the plan all along. You force yourself to enjoy it and get excited.

You force yourself to think that what happened outside of getting into the college of your dreams was for a reason, but in the end you got what you really wanted.

But, deep down inside, you think about how you wish things could have been different.

At the same time, prom is just around the corner.

At first, you thought about not attending, but of course, Alysanne wouldn't let you think about it anymore. She dragged you with her to the dress store and sentenced that it will be a date of three, her, Cregan and you.

You tried to persuade her, to make her understand that Cregan only wants her as his date. But, of course, Cregan as the great friend he also is, told you it would be fun.

Certainly neither he nor you nor Alysanne have ever been on a three-way date and he told you; what better than to try it at the prom?

The prom preparations are done. Now the important thing is to turn in final projects and get rid of all the pending with the professors.

And that's what you're doing now.

With your headphones on and a notebook along with a book on your table, you're about to finish a long, boring project. When you notice how a figure suddenly obscures your workspace and you raise your gaze almost instantly, curious.

Helaena.

You remove your headphones, surprised to see her as she smiles softly at you.

“Hi,” you say to her in a soft tone, putting your project aside for a moment.

“Hi,” she says to you in the same soft tone, ”I… am I interrupting you?”

“Oh no,” you say nonchalantly, “I mean, yes, but I'm just about to finish it anyway. Don't worry.”

She looks at you a little unsure.

“Are you sure? It's just… I don't know,“ she shrugs, 'It's been a while since we last talked and I didn't know if I could come up to you.”

Again you ignore the small sharp pain in your chest at the memory of Aemond and try to look like you're not at all affected by having his sister in front of you.

“Yeah, well…” you try to smile a little, ”Things have been… intense lately.”

She nods as she takes a seat across from you.

“So it's official?” she asks you with a sad tone as she watches you with a sad little smile, “Like, I mean… you and my brother aren't coming back together?”

This time, the sharp pain in your chest is stronger and more persistent. As well as her question hits you like a wave.

How can you tell her that, in reality, everything you and Aemond had was false? That it was all part of an agreement?

The guilt begins to consume you as you see her face full of expectations and the worst thing is that it's not something you should tell her. That should be Aemond. But, still, you feel the urge to cry and you feel the need to finally tell her the truth, for the sake of everyone who made you believe the fake relationship.

“Helaena…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, ”I-I… need to be honest with you.”

You take a breath, expecting the worst and imagining a series of difficult emotions to deal with.

“This whole thing between Aemond and I… it was fake,” you speak fearfully and sorrowfully, ”We were just… pretending for our own convenience. It wasn't…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment heavily, ”It wasn't real.”

You expected surprise, indignation, incredulity, anger, and more, all at the same time. But to your greatest surprise and bewilderment, she doesn't seem remotely surprised. Instead, she just smiles softly at you, full of understanding, as if she's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I already knew that,” she tells you in a serene tone that disarms you.

You feel your lungs hold all your air and you watch her completely stunned, surprised and confused with your parted lips. Then you blink, processing her words.

“What?”

“Aemond told me everything the moment you set up your rules,” she replies calmly, “The truth is, he never hides anything from me. He can't. So I already knew what you both were doing from the beginning.”

You continue to watch her in shock and disbelief, unable to believe it, trying to understand how she could have kept this to herself so naturally.

And in that moment, with disbelief and surprise beating in your chest, you realize that in every single conversation you had with her, right here at school, at parties, even at that family dinner that ended in disaster thanks to Aegon's drunkenness… she had always known.

“Though I don't always approve of his decisions, I understood why he did it… and why you did too.”

But your mind is still short-circuiting, processing and comprehending.

You relive in your mind every moment you went out of your way to pretend, believing you were fooling everyone, especially her. And yet, there's Helaena, looking at you with an expression of calm and empathy that completely disarms you.

“So you knew?” you are able to formulate in asking in a breathy whisper.

She nods, smiling softly.

“Easy, only I knew.“

“And you're not upset?” you ask confused, still waiting for some sign of reproach.

“Not at all. On the contrary, I'm relieved,” she tells you honestly, ”People made fun of Aemond after Alys. And, well, that left a mark on him. You know what rumors are like here.”

“Oh, believe me I do.”

“And they made him miserable. It also didn't help at all that Alys was his first girlfriend and his first formal relationship but the two of them didn't love each other, it was just obsession and whim,” she says absurdly, "And with you, at least, he got some peace back, even if it was temporary."

“But then…” you look at her blankly, “Why did you ask me if we'll get back together?”

Helaena sighs, her gaze soft but intense.

“Because in the end the two of you really fell in love. I saw you at Dragonstone and it was… too obvious.”

You remain silent, remembering those moments.

Both of you walking through those historical corridors, seeing and learning absolutely everything about old Valyria. Both holding hands, fascinated in the aquarium watching everything around or walking together on the shore of the beach, laughing, exchanging glances, hugging and kissing every now and then that everything felt too sincere to be pretending.

You relived every moment and every detail that you wished you could go back to when everything was fine.

Aemond had been different with you those days, a side of him that you had never seen and had thought only existed because of his performance in the fake relationship you had both agreed to.

But even you, being there, without the pressure to pretend, you felt the barriers fall between the two of you, because it was all real.

“He fell in love with you, Y/N,” Helaena tells you sincerely, “You… you did too?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you let the question float in the air for a moment. The answer is so clear in your mind that it hurts; and yet, saying it out loud feels like breaking a promise you had made to protect yourself.

“Yes, I did too,” you admit, sadness settling in your chest, "But…" you take a deep breath, watching her, ”What happened with Floris even though it was a mistake… and then, the fact that he didn't tell me the truth about Citadel, it really hurt me.”

Helaena nods softly, not judging you, simply listening to you. And when she speaks, her tone is so serene and understanding that it comforts you.

“My brother has this amazing ability to do things in the worst possible way,” she says with a small resigned smile, ”Floris was a mistake. He was drunk and well, he told me that before that both of you have had a disagreement, although that doesn't justify it, I know. I'm just saying, it really was a mistake.”

Your mind momentarily flashes back to that moment, when you tried to end the fake relationship after the family dinner thing.

“And as for the Citadel thing…” she pauses, searching for the right words, “He freaked out, Y/N. He didn't know how to tell you without ruining everything. And I know that doesn't justify it either, but…” she sighs, ”He was going to do whatever it took to hold up his part of the contract. He just didn't count on our grandfather suddenly getting difficult. Our family is already so fucked up as it is, that was the last thing he expected.”

Her words suddenly make you feel interested and curious about a specific topic you hadn't remembered until now. But Helaena continues to speak and you listen to her.

“Even though his method was disastrous, in his mind, he was protecting you,” she says, ”Again, I'm not justifying it. But I know he was desperate to get you that place at Citadel no matter what because he knew you deserved it. And…” she smiles at you with a gesture of resignation, "I think he loves you enough to do stupidly risky things. Even go against grandfather and act behind his back knowing how much trouble he could get into.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and feel a knot of emotions form in your chest. Everything she's telling you opens a door to feelings you'd tried to repress, to thoughts you'd rather bury.

You take a deep breath, remembering again those days at Dragonstone.

You relive every moment, when words were redundant and the silence between the two of you felt so full of meaning. He was always watching you in a way that seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. He was slowly revealing that vulnerable part of himself that he seemed to have lost after Alys.

But as much as you want to think straight, your thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the pain of it all consumes you but on the other, there's the certainty of how you feel about him.

Even when you're hurting, you know you can't ignore it.

“I know he's still waiting, deep down, for maybe…” Helaena pauses, “Maybe there's a chance for both of you.”

The expression on her face is so sincere and tender that you find it impossible not to believe her, and the thought fills you with a mixture of relief and pain. Because, despite everything, you still love him, and that truth is impossible to deny.

“I don't know,” you confess, biting your lips and feeling your eyes water, ”I-I…I don't know what to do. I mean, we're already graduating. We'll go to the same college but I doubt we'll see each other, you know? And I just… n-no… I don't know….

“Hey, hey,” Helaena tells you instantly, ”It's okay. We don't have to talk about this anymore. I didn't want to overwhelm you or burden you, I just wanted to tell you my opinion and for you to talk to someone in case you needed to,” she tells you softly, comfortingly, ”Still, it's something between the two of you and we can talk about anything else.”

You thank her with a relieved look, her gesture of empathy appearing as she watches you with her soft, understanding expression. And then, she speaks with a more casual tone, changing the subject with a lightness that relieves you a bit.

“You have everything ready for graduation? Are you bringing a date?”

“Hum… yes, I already have everything ready,” you nod, ”And no, I'll go with my two friends. I think you met them, Alysanne and Cregan.”

“Oh yes! I know them,” she says with a smile, ”And I'm going with a friend too. I don't really like the idea of everything being so formal, so going with a friend will make it all more fun.”

Both are silent for a few moments, and although the conversation has taken on a lighter tone, you feel there's still a question trapped in your chest. And at the memory of that day, an impulse prompts you to speak before you can stop yourself.

“Helaena,” you call her softly, "I… can I ask you something?" you ask almost in a whisper, lowering your gaze a little, hesitating.

She watches you curiously and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hum…” you stir in your seat, “That night, at dinner, Aegon said something… about your dad not caring about you. What did he mean by that?”

She immediately looks like she wasn't expecting that question at all, which immediately makes you regret it, but then she softens her whole gaze, not looking at all uncomfortable or upset.

“Oh, well… our dad…” she begins to speak, choosing her words precisely, “Well, he was always very neglectful with us. He always left all the work to mom to take care of us, even when she had to work too so she wasn't totally dependent on him,” she explains, ”It was chaos for a long time. Aegon and I lost years of education because of his lack of commitment.”

“Really?” you look at her attentively and surprised.

“He missed the date to register us for kindergarten in our proper time. He always forgot our birthdays or some important date. But, of course, that never happened to him with our older stepsister, Rhaenyra.”

You remember Aemond mentioning her, though not much.

“And you don't talk to her?”

“Yes, of course,” she says with a small smile, “She was never at blame. In fact, by comparison, she always took us into account and never forgot our existence,” she explains, ”And well, eventually mom divorced him. And the only good thing dad did in the end was to mention us and give us parts of his inheritance in his will.”

Helaena's sincerity and calmness in sharing this about her life surprises you and, at the same time, makes you understand the complicated family history behind them. Now it's no wonder why Aegon was so angry to bring up the subject of parents.

Nor do you ignore the connection you begin to feel towards them, obviously because of your mother and her abandonment.

“It must have been very difficult, for everyone,” you murmur, ”I'm sorry to hear that.”

She nods, though her expression doesn't reflect bitterness, but something akin to mature acceptance.

“Yes, but that made us strong,” she says with a slight smile, "Aegon was the one who resented his absence the most, as you could see," she tells you knowingly, ”You know, being the eldest and all. But we're more… happy now, now that he's gone,” she confesses.

You let out a long breath, watching her with compassion.

“Thank you for telling me. I didn't mean to intrude, really.”

“No, it's fine, it really doesn't affect me,” she assures you softly, ”After that Aegon scene at dinner, it's valid you know. So don't worry.”

You both smile softly at each other, expressions warm and sincere, falling silent. When Helaena stands up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Well…” she says, letting out a slight sigh, adjusting her backpack, ”I should be going now. I also have projects to finish.”

“Sure,” you nod, ”Thanks for coming and talking to me.”

“Oh, there's nothing to thank you for. Anytime. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both say goodbye and you watch her walk away in the direction of the main building, her silver hair shining in the sunlight, as you let out a long breath and put your headphones back in.

Prom.

You really don't understand what you're doing here. But it's all Alysanne's doing, like the makeup, hairstyle and dress.

You get out of Cregan's car with a beautiful lilac metallic dress on. Finding it wasn't hard at all, since it was like love at first sight, especially since it has a princess cut. And upon measuring it, Alysanne also decided that it was the one.

The hairstyle was also easy, after all, you didn't want anything too voluminous or too fancy. So a wavy style in your hair with a crown of silver flowers at the crown of your head was the perfect touch.

Alysanne on the other hand chose a beautiful wine colored dress that flatters her at every angle, deciding to gather her hair with two strands falling on either side of her face, making her look absolutely elegant and gorgeous.

And once all three of you are ready, Cregan dressed in an impeccable dark suit, offers you both his arms and you enter the grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel together.

The ballroom is illuminated by the typical disco balls hanging from the high ceiling, casting silver and white sparkles that create an almost magical atmosphere.

The decor is elegant and subtle, with centerpieces of fresh flowers and candles giving each table a touch of romantic charm.

You feel a mixture of nerves and excitement as you enter, as if it's all part of a dream. After all, it is your prom and tonight symbolizes a chapter you are about to close, your high school years.

The dance floor is in the center, surrounded by tables in a circle and already some of the guests have started to dance, getting lost in the rhythm of the soft music that fills the atmosphere thanks to the DJ.

Although not only disco balls light up the place, but also some colored lights to make the atmosphere more colorful.

If someone had told you in your freshman year everything that was going to happen in your final year, you would have laughed out loud and wouldn't have believed it at all, because your life was too boring.

But here you are, with still those events in mind, where at the end of the night, you will put them behind you.

You adjust your lilac dress, whose princess-cut skirt falls in soft layers to the floor. The fabric moves with you, as if it were an extension of your own footsteps, and the color shimmers delicately under the silver lights.

The three of you make your way to one of the tables to take a seat and you take a closer look around you as the decorations and you also see familiar faces of some of your classmates, some laughing in groups and others on the dance floor with their dates.

And Alysanne, excited and obsessed with everything, wants to have memories of the whole night and soon the three of you are taking a long selfie session with her phone.

Cregan complains about too many photos and the laughter of the three fills the air as Alysanne continues to make sure she captures the best shots, changing angles and poses.

Alysanne, with a huge smile, spins around on herself and then grabs your hands to dance with her, laughing every time you both take a step out of rhythm. You can feel her pure happiness, an excitement that doesn't take long to become contagious and where Cregan soon joins in.

The dance floor is filling up and the sparkles of the lights reflecting off everyone's costumes and dresses create an enchanting and magical atmosphere.

The DJ starts mixing more upbeat songs, and you see how everyone is having fun, laughing and dancing.

Immediately this catches Alysanne's attention and she drags the three of you onto the dance floor with infectious laughter. Before you know it, you're in the middle of the dance floor with them, surrounded by movement and music.

The music beats on the floor and vibrates in your chest, and, slowly, you begin to let loose, moving to the beat of the songs as the colored lights swirl above you all.

“I'm going to get a drink!” you let them both know over the music.

You have no idea exactly how much time passes that you find yourself dancing, enjoying the night, the echo of laughter and the warmth of the crowd.

The euphoria makes you forget and enjoy yourself as you feel your throat dry and your feet start to ache, with your body starting to beg for water and a little break.

“Okay!” Cregan nods, throwing you a smile, still dancing with Alysanne.

You smile knowingly, since after all, these two deserve to have their moment, and you walk away towards the table where there are different desserts and the drinks for all the graduates.

You take a bottle of water, and as you drink, the immediate relief makes you close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the coolness.

And only at that moment, standing alone and a little apart, you notice the glances of some people around you, mainly girls passing by you and whispering something between them, looking at you out of the corner of their eyes.

Great.

You thought you were past all this but even at prom it doesn't stop.

You take a deep breath and look out onto the dance floor, where you make out Alysanne and Cregan dancing close together, smiling and animated. You certainly don't want to interrupt them and you look around again, trying to distract yourself with anything you can find to rest your feet on.

You try not to make a big deal of it and look back at them for just a few moments with a serious look on your face and again try to focus on regaining your energy, telling yourself that this shouldn't affect you.

You remind yourself that you are here for you and your friends, and that is all that should matter to you.

When your gaze unconsciously focuses on Floris.

With her arm intertwined with a boy, whom you recognize from the lacrosse team, she looks absolutely elegant with a beautiful hairstyle and a gorgeous pink dress.

And as she joins the party, she seems totally focused on enjoying the evening, her expression relaxed and happy.

You look away from her, focused on something else, where your attention slips unintentionally to Alys, surrounded by her friends.

In the distance, suddenly her gaze meets yours and you quickly look away, not knowing why but… you really don't want to deal with or care about those people anymore.

She's wearing dark makeup and a sensual emerald green dress that completely clings to her body and highlights her curves. She looks completely beautiful, but knowing her attitude and behavior, it makes her lose her charm.

You watch Helaena for a few more seconds, her energy lighting up the dance floor, when suddenly, a tall, familiar figure catches your attention on the other side of the room in the crowd.

Instead, you focus on Helaena, who you find among all the people dancing, getting carried away by the atmosphere and in the company of the friend who told you.

Her silver hair is swaying to the music and she shines in the middle of everyone in that beautiful sky blue dress and gold accessories, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Aemond is standing a few feet away, talking to Aegon, both looking absolutely handsome for the evening. Then, the atmosphere around you seems to fade a bit and he's the only one who catches your eye in the middle of the crowd.

And that mixture of emotions about him rises in your chest again.

You take a closer look at who is around him and it is only Aegon. You don't see any girl hanging on his arm or anything, so apparently he has come unaccompanied, just like you.

He is dressed in a dark suit that highlights his slender figure and impeccable posture, just like Aegon. The silver light of the disc balls bring out his silver hair and his face so perfectly detailed, giving it a glow that is almost unreal to you.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than you had anticipated. From a distance, you can notice the lack of expressions on his face and the small twitch of his lips as he speaks to Aegon, looking around him without really showing any emotion.

That eye contact takes the air out of you. The memory of all the things you shared, the conversations, the looks, the touching and kissing… it all comes over you.

And at that very moment, as if sensing the weight of your attention, Aemond looks up and sees you beyond the crowd, apart and alone. The visual connection is instantaneous, almost electric, and suddenly you feel all the people and bustle around you fade away.

You can't deny the attraction and deep affection that, even now, beat intensely in your chest. And, for an instant, you wonder if he too feels the same mix of nostalgia and sadness in the midst of it all.

You notice how he looks you up and down, lingering on every detail of what you're wearing today, his eyes shining, filled with a kind of wary hope and longing, completely stealing your breath.

Then, his body language tells you he's getting ready to move. Coming at you, with her determined gaze.

Oh God.

A sense of panic invades every part of your body. And before he can do anything, you look away and quickly make your way to the dance floor, blending into the crowd, heading towards your friends.

The music booms in your ears and your thoughts are in complete chaos, hitting you one after the other.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tell yourself that you just want to enjoy the night, to stop thinking about him and what was, even if it's only for a few hours.

So time passes, the energy of the dance becomes more relaxed, and though you manage to avoid crossing paths directly with Aemond, his presence seems to haunt your mind like a lingering ghost, one that doesn't dissipate with the music or the bright lights.

You look around from time to time, and out of the corner of your eye you notice that he also seems to avoid being too close to you, although you can't help thinking that maybe he is also looking for you in the crowd, as you are looking for him.

Until, finally, the atmosphere immediately changes.

The lights dim and the silver and warm tones transform the room into an intimate place. Couples begin to approach the dance floor, holding hands, to dance to the slow songs. And you decide it's the perfect time to take a break.

You smile at Cregan and Alysanne, giving them another moment again, feeling a twinge of tenderness and, at the same time, unexpected loneliness.

You take a seat at one of the nearby tables, watching as the dance floor fills with couples slowly swaying to the music.

Dresses and suits intertwine, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of the atmosphere, allowing yourself to feel invisible in the midst of all that harmony.

You watch Floris dancing with that boy, Alysanne with Cregan of course, and Helaena dancing with her friend, both with amused smiles and talking softly without taking the slow dance so seriously. You also see Aegon dancing very close with a girl.

And as your eyes wander around the dance floor, your gaze focuses again on his figure, which seems just as lonely as yours.

A few tables away, Aemond sits alone, surveying the dance floor with an expression you fail to fully decipher. His fingers drum on the rim of his glass, and, for a moment, he seems lost in his own thoughts. He looks calm, almost vulnerable.

You stare at him longer than you think and sigh, averting your gaze, and as the seconds pass, the urge to stand still and do nothing begins to fade.

You bite the inside of your cheek and begin to move your foot up and down rapidly, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast. You watch all the people dancing again, hesitating.

Then you let out a long breath and without knowing exactly why, you take a deep breath and stand up. With slow steps, a momentum and a calmness you try to maintain, you head towards him.

As you get closer, you notice how his gaze, which was lost on the dance floor, suddenly focuses on you, noticing before out of the corner of his eye your approaching figure. Surprise and bewilderment mixed with something else appears in his gaze and you stop in front of him, nervous but determined.

Then neither of you say anything for a few moments. The same nerves make you unable to speak and the two of you just stand there, watching each other.

You feel how some people around you suddenly have their attention focused on both of you, waiting for what you will do, but you don't even pay attention to them. You just focus completely on him.

Until you sigh.

"Do you dance?" you ask softly and nervous.

The words seem to break the spell, and Aemond blinks, clearly surprised and somehow confused.

You watch the expression on his face, as if he's processing every word you've just said, looking for some hint of doubt or change of heart in your expression.

"S-sure," he says still confused, not expecting this at all.

There's a mix of emotions in his eyes, confusion, surprise and nervousness, something you wouldn't have expected to see in him. And you, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, extend your hand to him.

He watches your face attentively and then your hand, still surprised, to finally take it gently. His fingers intertwine with yours, sending an electricity throughout your body through his touch as he stands up.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart beating like crazy and nervousness invading your whole system. And without another word, you both head for the dance floor.

Then, everything around you fades away, the murmurs and laughter, even the music itself becomes a distant whisper, and only he remains, next to you.

He places a hand on your waist, his touch delicate, as if he doesn't want to do anything that could break this fragile instant. You take his other hand, intertwining it with yours and as you both begin to move to the rhythm of the music, you feel how a mixture of emotions floods each of your senses.

Aemond watches you, his eyes fixed on yours and with a nervous little smile on his lips, as if he can't believe this is really happening.

The music moves forward, slow, allowing you to glide in front of each other. As his steps synchronize with yours, the movements become smooth and natural.

And in a moment you realize that you both are completely absorbed in each other, as if nothing and no one could interrupt this bubble that surrounds you.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice barely audible over the music and shy, watching you with a gleam in his eye.

"You look beautiful."

He says to you, his words so sincere and emotionally charged that you feel a surge of warmth wash over you.

You wish his words didn't make you melt. But they do. And everything about him, every gesture, his closeness, the firm, protective touch of his hand on your waist, the way he holds you, as if you were something precious and delicate, envelops and intoxicates you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a soft smile appear on your lips, "You too... you look very handsome."

He smiles, marking the dimples on either side of his cheeks.

"I wasn't expecting you to come over," he admits, his eyes revealing something between vulnerability and surprise.

The tone of his voice, so soft and honest, makes you feel a warmth you haven't experienced in a long time.

"I didn't know I would," you reply with a barely perceptible smile, "But I thought, maybe... I don't want to spend the night running away," you confess.

He nods, not looking away.

"I didn't want it to be like that either."

His hand on your waist pulls you slightly closer to him with a firm movement and the slight brush makes you aware of the closeness between the two of you.

You feel your thoughts cloud over and you let yourself become more enveloped by him, unable to help it.

His chin brushes your forehead and you feel that at any moment your heart will jump out of your chest. It's an insistent, powerful beat that seems to resonate with every breath you take at his side.

Then, Aemond lowers his voice, his tone becoming softer, almost melancholy, as if his words are a secret shared only between the two of you.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know? When I gave you the folder.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know, when I gave you the folder," he confesses, with a certain melancholy tone, "But I knew it wouldn't be fair to ask you that and I really didn't want to hurt you anymore."

The sincerity in his tone pierces you, and you feel your own barriers begin to crumble. You listen to him with your heart pounding, absorbing every word.

Aemond sighs and his fingers tighten slightly at your waist.

"And a moment ago, when I saw you so perfect and so beautiful in this dress... I realized how much I wished I had walked through those doors with you on my arm," he says with a longing and sadness.

The music continues to envelop you and you feel his confession reverberate through you, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

The strength of his words, of the connection that has been created between the two of you in the middle of this song, makes the air seem thick and charged with meanings that don't need to be explained.

Then you raise your gaze to him and you both stare at each other in silence, where your words seem to get caught in your throat.

His eyes roam over your face, as if he wants to remember every detail, as if he wants to take this moment with him. There is a sadness and a softness in his gaze that you haven't seen before, and it makes something in your chest tighten.

And again his voice breaks through the soft silence that envelops you.

"I'm sorry... for everything," he says barely a whisper, laden with a sincerity that resonates deeply.

His fingers trace slow circles on your back, small gestures that seem to try to comfort you and to comfort him too. The contact between the two of you is firm and warm, and yet, you feel as if Aemond fears that at any moment this could disappear.

For a moment, the music seems to fade, leaving only your heartbeat and the echo of his voice in the air.

You feel the urge to speak, to say something that would ease the vulnerability on his face, but you find it difficult to organize your thoughts.

Instead, you opt for a simple but meaningful gesture. You propel yourself a little towards him and leave a soft kiss on his cheek, then rest your head on his chest and gently inhale his expensive cologne, being comforting enough for you.

"It's okay," you murmur.

He lets out a sigh of relief, mixed with longing and makes his grip on your waist tighter, not wanting to let go. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head on yours as you both continue to sway gently to the music.

"Thank you for giving me this dance," he murmurs.

You place a soft, small smile on your lips, then raise your gaze to his, watching him with nothing but fondness.

He continues to watch you with that softness and one of his hands goes up to your cheek. In a delicate, almost fearful touch, his thumb runs over your skin in a gesture that is both protective and vulnerable.

Then he rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes, as you lean into him.

You both fall silent, letting the slow rhythm of the music carry you away, allowing the moment to linger, in a fragile and honest peace.

You feel that you could stay like this, in this bubble of time and silence, without the need for words, because, in this instant, you both understand what has been said and what doesn't need to be said.

The song changes to another slow one and you both lose yourselves in the moment, enjoying it, not wanting it to end.

Time seems to stand still as you dance together, moving slowly and leisurely, as if nothing and no one else exists. The sounds of the party fade around you, leaving only the beating of your hearts and the faint brush of your breaths.

Your eyes close as you let go, feeling his hand on your back and the warmth his body gives off, so close and so full of meaning.

You both breathe in sync, your foreheads resting against each other, your eyes closed as the moment stretches out and becomes more than just a dance.

This instant is a truce, a refuge where everything else, the doubts, the pain, the past, is suspended and what follows is moving forward.

"You've got everything ready to go to college?"

His voice breaks the silence softly, barely a murmur, as if afraid to disturb the peace around you both.

"Yeah," you murmur, nodding.

"What are you traveling there on?"

"Well, I was checking with my dad about bus and plane ticket prices. But I still haven't made up my mind," you admit, remembering discussions about which was the safest and cheapest option.

Aemond nods, thoughtfully. Then, after a brief pause, he speaks with calm assurance.

"I can take you."

You look at him instantly surprised, definitely not expecting that.

"What?"

"I can take you," he repeats, sure of his words, "Well, sure, if you want," he hastens to clarify, "After all, we're going to the same place and I'll make the trip in my car," he explains, "There's plenty of room for your bags along with mine and so you won't have to spend on a ticket. Besides, it would be safer and I think, I don't know, you'd be more comfortable."

You remain silent, trying to assimilate what he has just said. There is something in his words, in the slow and sincere tone, that strikes a deep chord in you.

The idea of making the trip together, of sharing that important moment of departure, of having one last time alone before facing a new life, awakens a mix of emotions that are difficult to describe.

He lowers his gaze for a moment, nervous, clarifying in a low voice.

"It's just a suggestion... something I thought might make things easier for you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Your heart pounds, and somehow, the simplicity of his offer, the naturalness with which he cares for you, causes a warm surge of gratitude and affection to wash over you.

"Can you really do that for me?" you ask quietly, with a little smile you can't help.

"Sure," he says absurdly softly, as if it weren't obvious, "But only if you want me to. I don't want to force you. It's just an option."

You look up at him, holding his gaze for a second that seems like forever, and nod slowly, allowing the feeling of relief and closeness to wash over you.

"I'd love to," you whisper, your voice barely a murmur, "Thank you."

The shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, and you can see the relief in his expression.

"No need to thanks."

Without another word, Aemond pulls you a little closer to him and again the two of you bring your foreheads together, letting the moment lengthen as the music changes to another slow rhythm.

You both remain like that, moving in silence and enjoying the moment, spending the last moment of your high school lives together, to start college together.

"Are you ready?"

Aemond watches you from the driver's seat, his hands resting calmly on the steering wheel with a small smile on his face.

The car is already loaded with suitcases for both of you and you nod, taking a deep breath to calm the emotions fluttering in your chest.

The thought of heading off together towards this new stage causes a mixture of nerves and excitement to wash over you, though a part of you also feels comforted by Aemond's presence at your side.

"Yes," you reply, adjusting your belt.

You watch him and he gives you one last knowing look before putting the car in move.

Saying goodbye to your dad was difficult, but it was something you were both already preparing for and you knew that moment would come.

Besides, he met Aemond, as your friend who will do you the favor of driving you to college and nothing more. And your dad felt safer with that instead of taking the plane or bus alone.

Especially after Aemond promised him countless times that he would take care of you at all times.

The road is serene at first, and Aemond turns on the radio, letting a soft melody fill the comfortable silence between them.

The roads stretch out in front of you, long and exciting, as the landscape changes shape and the kilometers pass, leaving behind the city where you experienced so much.

From time to time, you exchange glances, small comments about the places you see and the expectations each has for the university.

Aemond seems especially careful, attentive to every sign on the road and every change in your expression, as if he wants to make sure you are comfortable and at ease.

And he especially notices a change in your expression.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks you, his voice low but close, filling the space in a comforting way.

You watch him and after some hesitation, you shrug.

"I guess it makes me a little nervous not knowing what to expect," you admit, "This whole new stage... the idea of being alone in a new place."

Aemond nods, understanding what you mean, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I guess it's normal," he tells you softly, "It's almost obligatory to feel this way, but, for what it's worth... you won't be completely alone."

His gaze meets yours for a second before he turns back to the road.

"I'm going to be around if at any time you need anything or anything happens, anything at all."

You feel a warmth settle in your chest, and a part of your nerves seem to fade. The idea of him being there, close by, offering you that closeness, gives you a strange sense of relief.

"Thank you, Aemond," you murmur with a small smile.

He smiles, marking a dimple in his cheek, and turns his eyes to the front.

The ride continues, where the atmosphere in the car becomes more and more comfortable, chatting about small details, expectations, and the occasional joke that makes you both laugh comfortably.

And finally, as the two enter the town of Oldtown and the university looms in the distance, Aemond slows down, looking at the campus that would soon become his home.

"There it is," he says, a slight excitement in his voice.

The same excitement rubs off on you and excitedly, you take his hand, intertwining it with yours, excited and hopeful.

Hopeful that all that is to come for you in this place are good and promising things. As well as hopeful for Aemond and for you.

series taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @queen-of-elves

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #modern aemond #modern hotd #au modern #aemond one eye

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two-white-butterflies · 2 months ago

Text

vienna waits for you

Description: A messy divorce with his college sweetheart sends Harvey catapulting into a bed of madness. He meets her years later, and the worst part is: they still love each other.

Pairing: harvey specter/singer!reader

A/N: i am obsessed with suits as of the moment, and i will be posting a lot about harvey specter regardless of his small fanbase. i have no idea if representing an ex-spouse is legal, but i saw jessica do it for her ex-husband so...by law of suits?

Harvey Specter does not have a positive outlook on love. His mom cheated on his dad, and subsequently his views on love were hinged on that heartbreak. Everyone around him knew that there was a great wall in the middle of Harvey and personal connections. He struggled to make friends - or in Donna's words, he is alone, has always been alone.

"What are you talking about?" Louis raised an eyebrow, a foot inside of Harvey's office. His eyes methodically darting back and forth between the two men. "Harvey was talking about his college sweetheart. She added him on Facebook." Mike lied.

Louis chuckles nervously, aware of Harvey's past.

It hasn't been that long ago, Harvey was still married to you during his early associate days. "She added you on Facebook?" Louis repeated the last words, his eyebrows were merged together. I don't mean to impose, but if Harvey's getting back with his ex-wife... Louis thought, and Harvey's jaw clenches.

He casts Mike a glance.

"If she added you on Facebook, then why didn't she add me?" Louis bites his bottom lips, Y/N likes me. I thought we were friends, Louis takes a deep breath. "Maybe it was a fake account, Louis." Harvey glares at him, his blue eyes piercing daggers deep into the other man's soul. Why couldn't have Mike thought of something clever-er?

There were three women that he could name at the top of his head, Scottie, Zoe, and that one waitress girl. "Oh, because for a second there I thought that..." Louis smiles bitterly. "Get out." Harvey rolls his eyes, mumbling something about closing the door on his way out. Louis quickly fades from view.

"What was that about?" Mike's eyebrows merged together. "None of your business," the older man replies curtly. Harvey didn't embrace the past with all of his heart. There were a million things that he could have done differently. He could be living a different life right now, had he made the right choice, but he didn't.

He has never experienced real love, but he was close, once.

"I get it," Mike sighs, aware that it wasn't smart to ask his 'mentor' personal questions. "I need those files by tomorrow." Harvey huffs, dismissing the associate. Way to ruin the day, Mike, Harvey thinks.

But it wasn't really Mike's fault.

(HARVEY SPECTER. 1ST YEAR AT HARVARD)

When you fall in love, everything happens in slow motion. As I'm watching this girl get off her motorcycle, everything happens in slow motion. She removes her helmet, and her hair is free - suddenly swaying with the strength of the wind, and when her face is free of her flowing hair - I see her face.

She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

"Harvey Specter, right? I'm sorry for being late but I was the one that they tasked to tour you around the place. Courtesy of Jessica." She smiles at me, her helmet sitting snugly on her hip. "You don't have to," I found myself mumbling and she shakes her head.

"I insist." She smiles at me. I think I can hear a love song play in the background. Harvard of my dreams, woman of my dreams. "Harvey Specter," I introduce myself. She mumbles her name, and shakes my hand willingly. "I'm from the school of Arts. I hope that you'll be able to attend my song event next Tuesday. I'm inviting you." She says promptly, her tone reminding me of Jessica.

School of arts? Pfft, she must come from real money.

"Invite me? But we've only just met. Shouldn't you invite me to dinner before coaxing me into your bed?" I raise an eyebrow. She laughs at my joke, I don't even know if that joke was funny in the first place - but I know that it made her laugh. "It's a song, Mr. Specter. I'm not asking for your soul." Her eyebrows relaxed, and we walk inside the building - the warmth of the heater entering my body.

"- plus, I made a bet with this girl in class that I'll be able to get more guests than her." She winked as we entered our first classroom. "Give me a good reason, and I'll bring all of my friends." I chuckled.

(CURRENT DAY)

"It is always a pleasure to see you," Jessica smiles.

"I wish that I was here under different circumstances." You take a deep breath. These past few weeks have been a blur. "A million artists have been accused of plagiarism, but songwriting is a grey area. Pearson Hardman will fix this problem. I promise." She promises.

Jessica has never let you down.

"We'll have to prove to them that your song was written before they published theirs, which is easy because you keep all our song lyrics in a clear-book." Jessica remembers, versed in all the times that you rambled about your songs in her office, but a sigh escapes your mouth. "Proving that to them is the trickiest part." You confess.

"I lost my book. I don't know if I left it with Harvey - if it's stacked in between his bookshelves, or god knows where it is." A bitter chuckle escapes your mouth as you sink deeper into the seats.

"I could've gone to any B list law-firm if this was an easy battle but I'm willing to spend money on Pearson Hardman because I can't afford to lose." You articulated with a forced smile. Being accused of plagiarism was a stain on your reputation. Pearson Hardman needs to protect your honor.

"Jessica," Harvey's voice breaks you away from your thoughts. Suddenly, the office became smaller, and the twenty-feet distance between the both of you wasn't enough to contain your anger.

"Harvey will handle your case, he is our best lawyer." Jessica compliments. "No," you resist without apprehension. "- what I need from you isn't trivial. I really can't afford to lose." You breath. If this was Jessica's way of entertaining herself, then she needs to find another person to play with. "We should all be professional here," Harvey breaks his silence.

He sits down on the couch parallel you.

He has always kept to himself, even resisted from showing you the vulnerable parts of him in fear that you'd leave. In the end, you weren't the one that left - he was the one who filed for divorce.

How do you talk to an ex-husband without yelling profanities at each other? When the last time you saw each other was in the middle of a court room, unable to look each other in the eye. It would be better to leave things unsaid, but given the circumstance - given the fact that he was staring at you right in the eye - it was impossible.

"I am being sued for plagiarism. I know that you don't care about the truth, so I'll make this simple: losing is not an option." you emphasized, wording it in a way that would leave no questions.

Jessica hands him the files.

"I don't plan on losing," Harvey mumbles while skimming through the files. "- you were smart to come here."

3:00 P.M

The sight of him in his three-piece suit, his gelled hair, and his fresh cologne scent sent you reeling back into the past. How long has it been since you've seen his shadow? Even longer since you've last spoken without your lawyers acting as a medium.

Stars shine and burn, and your star crashed into extinction.

You continued staring at him as he read through your files (all magnificently compiled thanks to your years of proofreading his case files which did not happen if anyone from the D.A asks.) "How long are you going to stare at me?" He asks in a cold tone, it has been an hour since the both of you left Jessica's office. Opting to meet in his office instead, lest you fall asleep in Jessica's comfy fibers.

"You really are miserable without me," you spoke out loud. "What the hell are you talking about?" His eyebrows merged together. "You still don't know how to tie your necktie properly," your lips burrow into your lower lips, watching a fraction of a flaw in his tie.

To any untrained eye, his necktie was polished and flawless - but you know that when he does his necktie, his thumb is a little tight and the entire fabric is tighter around the middle. The back part of his necktie moves slightly to the right, but he fixes that by tucking it in.

"I'm sorry but some of us don't have the time to study little things," his tone comes out colder than he anticipated. There was a time where Harvey was just this little thing in between your palms - if the you refused to move to the mountains, then he moves the mountains to you, that was until the fallout.

"It is because of the little things that we live," you replied in your usual artsy way, one that sends a corporate man like him careening. "- I know that you hate me." You began but he interrupts you with a stare. "I don't hate you," his voice is gentler this time.

"Regardless, I hope that you understand how much this case means to me." You look at him with your puppy-eyes, begging for justice. "I graduated from Harvard, top of my class in a course that people don't take seriously. I make art, not just soulless marketable music, but art that actually has meaning, and to be accused of plagiarism offends me. It really does." You explained your side.

And it doesn't take a genius to realize that he believes you.

"I listened to your song," Harvey replies.

"I didn't see you listening to it." You mumbled.

"You went to the bathroom and I listened in the interim," he lies. He still has your vinyl albums on his vinyl shelf, but no one knows that. "The songs are similar." He pointed out. "Songs sound similar all the time," you snap but only because you know that you've never copied a damn thing in your entire life.

"You told Jessica that you wrote this song during our... do you have any proof of that?" He inquires, following his usual procedure of investigating his client. "No, but I wrote that song after our fight. If that means something." You chuckled bitterly.

(THE BEGINNING OF THE END)

The white blanket covered your body, providing warmth against the coldness of your shared apartment with Harvey. "Good morning, beautiful." He presses a kiss to your shoulder. "Good morning," you replied with a lazy smile, still taken aback by the beauty of his stare.

When you are thrown back into reality, that sinking feeling returns and permeates in the bottom of your chest. "This isn't going to make me forget about that thing with Cameron Dennis," you sharply reminded him.

"This is why I didn't tell you in the first place." He frowns, a bad start to the day. "- you were against me when I was in the grey. I am in the black now and I don't know what you want me to do." He argues.

It wasn't as easy as you narrated it, there were nuances to the problem. Cameron Dennis wasn't going to let him go that easily, when Harvey had the evidence to implicate him in a crime. He'd want to settle a score, and a man like Cameron Dennis was unpredictable, regardless of his moral code. "Leave," your answer was simple.

"- there is still a place for you with Jessica. But if you think that covering up for Cameron, this one time makes you exempt from all the other crimes that he's about to do in the future. You're wrong. Don't wait until it comes to bite you in the ass," you pleaded.

Greater than him have failed against corruption. You didn't want to see him become another clog in the machine, if he was in the black a foot inside of the room - then what shade would he be a year being inside of the room? "If your eyes are open, there's no reason to close them." You continued to persuade.

"It's not that easy." He repeats himself, and for a man of his stature - it really isn't easy. All he had to defend himself was you and Jessica. "I know that it isn't, but instead of involving yourself it would be better to leave before the tides become stronger." You advised, but judging by the look in his eyes - he wasn't listening to you.

5:00 PM

"Their estate replied, they're willing to settle on 40%." Harvey informed you, aware that it was the best deal that he could get out of this scenario. You didn't have a single evidence in your hands, none but your words and the stories attached to it. He believes you, but it would never uphold in court. "I want to settle on 0%." You insisted.

It is bold, but not even half of what Harvey settles on a daily basis. "They wanted 100 and I got it down to 40, unless you come up with an alibi or concrete evidence. I firmly advice you to accept their offer." Harvey tries to convince you, his tone mirroring yours all those years ago. "For Christ's sake," you mumbled - it was a losing game.

You couldn't let anyone take credit over your song.

This song means something to you.

It means something to your life.

"I hate you Harvey," you suddenly let out.

After all these years you still hold that divorce against him. It wasn't your fault in the first place, he allowed himself to be consumed by that corruption in Cameron Dennis' office. He blamed you for every little problem that he encountered, he pushed you away, told you that he never cared about you - even though that wasn't the truth. Not even close to the truth, because he was afraid.

Afraid that you'd cheat on him. Afraid that you'd leave him, he left first. So he'd be the winner.

"What is this really about?" He tried to keep his distance. "You can't even win this damn case." You insulted him, your words still able to cut through his thick walls. "- you defend capitalists. You're a clog in the machine, and you can't even defend an innocent woman." You were aware that your anger was misplaced, but he was the one standing in front of you - the object of your ire.

"You still can't let it go," his voice was a distant whisper. "- this world isn't a walk in the park. I told you that during the divorce, and I still mean it." He says the word 'divorce' with no reluctance, whereas he was avoiding that word a few hours ago. "You changed. I can't even recognize you," you chuckled mockingly. "What happened to the man who had a moral code?" You ask.

"You've been gone for a long time." He made an observation. "And we don't know each other that well. You were always away, building your career. Leaving me." He voices out his anger for the first time in decades. His jaw clenches again, but his eyes - oh you could tell from his eyes that he was heartbroken.

"So the divorce was my fault?" You queried.

"We barely spoke to each other. You didn't return my calls, you pushed me out, you made me think that there was someone else." He points a finger at you, raising his voice by an octave. "I was scared that if I answered you, then we'd fight. So I ignored you because ignoring you was better than losing you!" You yell.

The last years of your marriage was hell. Every little thing that unnerved you of each other was brought out, used in arguments - and the very swords that you promised to defend each other with, was used to stab each other in the back.

"You gave me the divorce papers, I told you that we could fix our marriage and you ignored me too. I'm not the villain that you're making me out to be, Harvey." You take a deep breath, regaining your composure and walking out of his office.

(A DAY AFTER THE DIVORCE PAPERS WERE GIVEN)

I take a deep breath.

In and out, like she always told me to do.

How long has it been since we've last spoken to each other? The only time that I was able to hear the sound of her voice was when the judge spoke to her and she requested for half of my properties. I should hate her for doing that but I don't.

"Harvey, I'm sorry for that plea with the judge. I don't know how to get your attention without suing you. We both made mistakes, but that isn't a good enough reason to let go. Let's fix us. I love you, and please call me back." The voicemail ends and I take the phone off my ear. I love you, three words that I have never said to her before.

I can see her sitting on the corner spot of the cafe - the cafe where we had our first date because the steakhouse that I booked mysteriously got shot down, and she insisted on having coffee for dinner. I can see her wearing the red dress that she wore on her song recital - the first time that I was able to hear her perfect voice.

I want to enter the room, but I can't.

I reach for my phone, dialing her familiar number.

It rings a few times, and I see her fish for her phone inside the bag.

"Hello?" I hear her voice on the other line. "Harvey, are you coming?" She asks, but I'm already here - without the courage to walk through the doors. "Harvey," she says my voice in a firm tone.

I open my mouth to speak but no voice comes out. I'm scared, and what if she'll leave me in the future? I should leave before she falls out of love with me, before she realizes that I'm not worth the sweat. "- for christ's sake. If you're here to laugh at me." Her voice becomes frustrated, and I see her stand up.

She hangs up.

"I love you too," but she was unable to hear me.

10:00pm

Harvey takes a swig of his beer, making his way to an apartment that he hasn't been in for a long time. This used to be your shared apartment with him, and he got ownership of it in the settlement. He opens the door with the keys in his pocket (keys that he's always kept in his pockets just in case he needed to return).

The apartment didn't smell like you anymore, it smelled like dust. The pristine white couch was now a muddied version of grey, and all the portraits you had together were covered with a thick layer of dust. He takes a deep breath, sitting down on the floor beside the vinyl shelf.

He took all of his vinyls and placed them in his office, but yours were still there. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Don McLean and Coldplay, your favorite artists - and he hasn't listened to them in a while. He doesn't understand how your marriage with him took a sharp turn - he valued your love, held it close to his heart, but in the end it slept away from his hands, carried on and never looked back.

He opens the dusty vinyl box and plugs in the song.

The song that you were being sued for, and the song that he has only listened to once because he couldn't bear listening to your voice.

Slow down you crazy child, you're so ambitious for a juvenile. But if you're so smart, tell me why are you still so afraid? Where's the fire what's the hurry about? You better cool it off before you burn it out.

He opens one of the albums in the shelf. Elvis Presley's That's The Way It Is, which the both of you voted as the best Elvis album of all time, the soundtrack of your love story with him.

You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through? When will you realize, Vienna waits for you.

The song continues playing in the background, and to his surprise a paper napkin was folded in the middle of the album, creating an indent that he hasn't noticed before. He reaches for the paper napkin, afraid that it would disintegrate with his touch. He unfolds it gently and to his surprise, the lyrics to the song that you were being sued for: Vienna, was written there.

To my husband, please remember that I'll be here waiting for you.

12:00 AM

He knocks on your apartment door, and you groggily open the door for him. "What the hell are you doing here?" Your eyebrows merged together, surprised by his sudden appearance. "I can win the case," he says with certainty - but already knew that. Harvey Specter is the best lawyer in NYC.

"You don't like losing. I get it." Your voice had hidden meaning.

Your eyes only softened once you realized that he was holding a laminated paper napkin in his right hand. "You found it," you take a deep breath, which probably also means that he was able to read the note that you wrote. "I went to our old apartment and it was-"

"In Elvis' album," you finished his sentence. "I didn't expect you to still have that apartment. I expected you to sell it the moment that it was given to you," it was your turn to make an observation.

"I'm sorry for hurting you." He made it very clear that he regretted the divorce, but should a relationship be founded on regret?

"It's in the past. We both have moved on." You partly lied.

"I was there in the cafe when you called me, and I wanted to talk to you but I was scared." He admitted, finally able to voice out his thoughts after all these years of keeping it in. "I was scared to tell you the truth because everyone who has loved me, has left me." He repeated, and suddenly a great weight was placed on your back.

"I think about you everyday," you confess.

Your hands in his necktie, pulling him closer towards your body. "What if we hurt each other worse?" It was your turn to voice your concern, eyes mirroring his - your fears were tangible. "Let's try again. I'd rather live knowing that we tried again, than live knowing that we could have but didn't." Harvey begs.

You answer him with a kiss to the lips.

A/N: will do a pt 2 fluff 🙏🏻 idk if people still watch suits but i love this show and i live breathe it.

#harvey specter x reader #harvey specter fanfics #harvey specter x you #suits fanfic #harvey specter #suits #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter smut #x reader

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iwrite-sinsandtragedies · 5 months ago

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Day 1 — Soulmates ₊˚✧ ﾟ

Submission for @goldengroovy's @olnfweek2024

MC: Micha

Long ass ramble under the cut 😂

Okayokayokay SO-

I love soulmate au's. I cannot tell you how many fics I've read or how many prompts I've played with or media I've consumed or how many bullshit ideas I've come up with in my own head for them, I CANNOT.

It's just - hhhhhhhhhhhh- Soulmate au's and Time Travel au's are just the shit that gets me out of bed some days 😩💖my world weary soul drinks that shit like medicine, okay?

That all being said, it's probably a little ambiguous which au I picked to some, so let me explain: There are two au's I'm mashing up here really, both are from fics I've read back in the day. One being a Clack fic and the other a Thilbo one 🤷‍♂️kind of calling myself out here but w/e, they were good fics.

The Thilbo one is easier to explain - the concept is "Heartsong" which is, literally what it says on the tin. You find out who your soulmate is the first time you hear them sing (and no, that does not mean everyone is just a naturally good singer - they can be ass at music but, the point is, when you hear them their song is the perfect song for you and your heart knows that). There's a lot of little nuances to this one - things like you hearing your heartsong when you dream so you always know the moment you find them. Also people who have quiet dreams because their heartsong died, sometimes before ever even meeting them. etc etc. The heartsong also seems to expand, in some respect, to instruments (as Thorin plays his harp one night and Bilbo starts to hum without thinking about it because it sounds wonderful to him and that's how Thorin finds out).

Overall, it's a very soft and sweet concept to me and as someone who has a deep love of music, it's also one of my very favourites.

The Clack one is a little less easy to explain? I think. Maybe because it's nuances are so round about but I'll do my best. The concept for this one is "I Only See Colour When I'm With You" - anyone who knows how Clack fics usually go knows where this is probably headed 😂 and I am sorry to have hurt you but, overall, the idea is: You live in a noir-esqu world where everything is black and white. This only changes when you find your soulmate, of course, who brings the world into full saturation and lets you see colour for - possibly - the first time in your life (I say possibly because I genuinely can't remember if you start out colourblind or if it's an age cap thing).

Unfortunately, for as much as I adore this concept, it's been a long damn time since I read the fic and I don't even know if it still exists somewhere. So I can't actually recall if it was a 'you have to touch them' or 'you have to hear them' thing but the fic takes place with Zack on the cliff right before Midgar where he holds Cloud and looks at the sky - so I'm willing to bet it's a touch thing.

I also really loved this fic because it was the first one I'd read that brought in the concept of multiple soulmates to me - As Cloud later sits with Aerith and sees the colour he couldn't see with Zack, meanwhile Aerith only sees black and white, because she was only able to see colour with Zack (who was never able to see colour with her, because he needed Cloud for that).

Essentially, they all needed each other to see the world in colour. As a polyam person who didn't quite realise I was poly back then, it was a very comforting (and now dearly cherished) fic.

Anyways! Now that you have the background on the two concepts, you can kind of get what I'm going for with this piece.

Tamarack, Micha and Qiu are all soulmates in a fuzzy, desaturated world (I'm sorry, I'm not cruel enough to but them in complete greyscale LOL) and the way you find your soulmate is by hearing them sing and, when they do, your world is suddenly vivid and bright and beautiful. Suddenly, you can see things as they were meant to be seen and it's a permanent change (unlike the Clack fic) but things are always clearest and brightest when your soulmate speaks or sings 💖

I get a real kick out of the idea that Micha's known for fucking months that Tamarack is his soulmate (if not years) because he's always listening to her play but never says jack shit about it because he's emotionally constipated that way 😂Though genuinely, it's probably because he just doesn't think he's her soulmate and he's a bit against finding out he's right honestly.

Joke is on him, he's Qiu's and Tamaracks soulmate! And he couldn't have picked a better moment to grow a pair an take the risk 🥰

#OLNF Week #OLNF Week 2024 #olnf #our life now and forever #mc michael #our life #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #olnf qiu #olnf tamarack #soulmate au #au #iwrite art #iwrite rambles

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makelemonade · 8 months ago

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The Tsaritsa is the archon of love, so when she notices and feels that the love lives of her Harbingers aren’t going too well, she has to interfere.

female reader, hurt/comfort, the harbingers are all friends; Pierro and Capitano. - pt2

Pierro

Being the Tsaritsa’s righthand and her first Harbinger was a stressful job. He was hardly at her side despite being her righthand but the moment she needed something done, the first person she’ll go to is him.

The Tsaritsa also hardly shows her face in public, so if there is any event she ever plans for the Fatui, whether it be a gala, ball or anything- she’ll make Pierro go to talk, even though SHE’S the one who hosted it.

Well, sometimes she’s there, lurking. No one actually knows it’s her since she chooses to stay hidden.

She decides to hold an eventful masquerade ball one night to celebrate the success of her Harbinhers. It’s one that she of course probably won’t even be going to and Pierro must go on her behalf.

Despite being his lover of many years, aka HIS WIFE, he has never once let you come to one of these and just says you’ll be bored out of your mind.

But a MASQUERADE BALL?! HELD BY THE QUEEN?! You had to go. This was your dream.

You begged for DAYS and he was so sick of it that he was forced to say yes.

Only for him to completely leave your side the moment you get there. At first, you thought that maybe it was just because he had a job to do, but throughout the night, he did not even spare you one glance.

You were standing off to the side, downing your 5th glass of champagne you’ve been stealing from the trays.

You felt upset, honestly. This was your first ever ball with him, one that you prepared for in terms of elegance and manners. You even made your own dress! It was ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS and it matched your mask and yet he didn’t even say anything.

You watched as he spoke to the Harbingers and important figures in Snezhnaya; they all laughed, smiled and showed off their guests, lovers or whoever they brought and you were practically discarded.

He acted like he had no lover tonight, and It made you wonder if his coworkers even knew he had a wife. Did he ever talk about you? Do they ever wonder why you’re never at the events? Do they even know your name?!

You struggled to listen in to their conversation, only being able to hear if one of them spoke loudly or the room went somewhat quieter.

You heard one speak a bit loud; the mayor of Snezhnaya.

“My Jester, I’ve never once seen you attend these with a guest. Why is that?”

The next voice was quiet, but you knew your husbands voice.

“I simply don’t have anyone to bring.”

You almost dropped your 6th glass of champagne, and if you did drop it, it would’ve broken just like your heart just did.

Married for YEARS yet they don’t even know who you are.

You waited for another waiter to walk by and slammed your glass down onto the tray, deciding you couldn’t stay in this ballroom anymore.

Walking around, you found doors that led out to a balcony and was thankful there was no one on it as you rushed to it.

The doors weren’t open wide so no one would see you out on there, thankfully. You took off your mask, letting your tears flow as you quietly sobbed, ignoring the cold hitting any bare skin.

On these nights, the Tsaritsa always seemed to calm down the weather. There was no harsh snow or rain, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still cold- if anything, this was almost warm.

You leaned against the railing, your hot tears melting through any remaining snow left on it.

Shivering, you couldn’t go back inside- your mascara was probably smudged by now and you didn’t want to look at your husband.

You were thinking of ways to try to leave the ball without your husband noticing but in full honesty, he probably didn’t even notice you were gone right now.

You didn’t even hear the clacks of high heels until you felt something drape over your shoulders and you almost yelped out of surprise.

It was a coat; a long, fluffy one at that. You looked to your side to see you’d been joined by another woman.

Her skin was as pale as the snow, her hair long, flowy and honestly you could’ve sworn it was glowing. Her eyes were as sharp as ice yet as soft as snow.

Her dress was white, with laces of icy blue and sapphires adorned; the same with her mask.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone hide out on a balcony during any of these.” She almost laughed, “Too cold.”

You wondered how she wasn’t cold; she’d given you her jacket, and her arms were bare yet she seemed perfectly fine as she leaned across the railing.

She even dared to jump up on it, sitting down as if there wasn’t a huge risk she could fall off with one gust of strong wind.

That made you noticed there were no harsh winds tonight.

“What’s wrong, dear?” She asked, ever so softly as she took in the sight of your tears.

“Just my husband,” you scoffed, moving a hand up to wipe them. You didn’t know why you were exposing this to a complete stranger yet there was just something about her that seemed like it was right to do so.

She hummed, then chuckled. “Love; such a beautiful yet painful feeling. Glad I’ve had my fair share with it.”

“You’ve been in love before?” You asked, genuinely interested in this random woman’s life.

“Many, many times.” She leaned back a bit, holding onto the railing as she looked up to the sky with a sad smile, watching the northern lights dance.

“Which makes it necessary that I must help people in love.” She looked back down to you, “if you so wish to speak.”

You sighed, wrapping the coat around you closer as you shivered. “I’ve been married to my husband for years, yet it feels like nothing. He has a stressful job- he works for her majesty, so I never ever complain about his absence. Yet tonight, he completely disregarded the fact of my existence and, even his own coworkers don’t know I exist! He won’t introduce me! Am I truly his wife if he can’t even act as my husband?!” You just groaned, looking up at the lights just as she did before.

She took in your words, nodding at every angry or frustrated rant within. After a minute, she spoke.

“Have you ever thought he doesn’t introduce you because of his coworkers?”

You looked down, turning to her confused yet encouraging her to continue, intruiged.

“The Harbingers…as loyal as they may be, some are rather dangerous, reckless and if I dare say myself, absolutely weird.”

You cackled. There was no way this random lady was dissing THE TSARITSA’S HARINGERS. “Do you truly have no fear?!”

She just laughed as well, hopping off the railing to now stand beside you. “I speak the truth. Maybe take that into consideration; perhaps, even though he is the first harbinger and can definitely take on all of them if any dared to touch you-“

You broke out into laughter again.

“-maybe think it’s to protect you from them. His actions tonight are not to be forgotten, and I assure you that soon he will realize his wrong and all will be will.”

You took in her words, looking back up to the sky. Well, she wasn’t wrong; he was the first harbinger, and even though he is insanely powerful, that didn’t mean the others weren’t.

Maybe he was trying to protect you, but that didn’t defend his actions.

You turned to thank the woman, but was met with nothing. She was gone- you didn’t even hear her leave!

Then that reminded you- how the hell did she know he was the first harbinger?! You only mentioned she worked for him.

You still had her coat and you walked towards the doors to head back inside, hoping to find her but she was nowhere near.

You just sighed, choosing to sit on the bench at the side of the balcony. Wrapping the coat around you.

It was large, insanely large- the type of coat that would honestly fit the size of your husband….

You took a closer look at the coat, only to notice the Fatui emblem.

Who the hell was this woman?!

“And then I told that stupid fennec green-haired bastard- OH MY ARCHONS!” Dottore stopped his story when he noticed the sudden presence of his archon and every other harbinger within the circle yelped.

“This is a first.” Capitano muttered, no one knowing if he was surprised or not under that mask.

They all tried to bow but she out her hands out. “Nono! No one knows I’m here other than you all so do not make a scene!” She whisper-yelled and they all immediately straightened themselves.

“Pierro,” She turned to him,

“Yes, your majesty?” He bowed his head,

“May we take a walk?” She asked, putting her arm out.

He nodded, wrapping his arm around hers. “Continue your story, dottore.” She called before she and the first harbinger walked around the ballroom.

“Your wife looks gorgeous tonight.” She said once they were out of earshot.

He looked at her with shock. “How did you-?”

“Pierro,” she sighed, coming to a halt. “You have been at my side for 500 years. You are my best friend but I am also your Archon; nothing gets past me, and as the God of Love it is my duty to tell you that your wife is heartbroken at your actions tonight and i’d advise for you to speak to her!”

During this; she somehow pushed him all the way to the doors and at her final words, she pushed him out onto the balcony, the warmth of the ballroom now gone.

He looked around and found your tear-stained face on the bench and he sighed, sitting beside you.

“You look adorable in that,” He laughed at HIS coat on you.

“Would you like to meet my coworkers, darling? I don’t want you to put this gorgeous dress to waste.”

Capitano

The fourth harbinger hardly ever talks. At meetings, he speaks a total of four words. There are very few Harbingers he will speak too and the only ones he actually talks to more than anyone else is Pierro, Dottore and Signora.

Just because you are his wife does not mean this excludes you.

The Tsaritsa had put both you and him down for an arranged marriage just a few months ago. Her reasoning- told through Pierro- being that Capitano seriously needs someone in his life and she’d rather it be someone who talks a lot- aka you.

You never met the Tsaritsa, but you worked for the Harbingers as a secretary so even before your arranged marriage you’ve had your fair share with all of them.

The Tsaritsa HOPED that maybe at meetings and gatherings capitano would finally talk more after marrying you and yet he remained as quiet as usual according to Pierro and she was gonna lose her shit.

Now, in the privacy of your home with him, he is more comfortable with you than the others. He’s shown you his face, but in truth the only reason being because he doesn’t want to sleep with it on and you literally sleep with him so…

He talks a bit more; he says good morning, good afternoon, good night..

Yeah…

At first you were fine with it; it was better than when you were just his secretary and he’d leave work on your desk with a note saying “have done by today. thanks :)”

It was cute you wouldn’t lie. you just wished he showed that little emotion on the note in real life.

It was nice having someone to constantly talk to and yap to; he always listened in with such focus, and would nod to show he was listening and interested.

But after doing that for months it just gets so tiring to the point it’s just depressing.

You may be married to him now but that didn’t mean your job was gone, so you were still at work with him. Sometimes it would be in his office or in someone else’s if they need help.

One day, at work on your break, you found all the Harbingers into the lounge.

“Y/N!” Childe laughed. “Our favourite- come sit with us!”

You shook your head. “I couldn’t impose, my lord. I was just taking my break.”

“Nonsense,” Signora waved her hand, shaking her head. “Take your break with us.”

Choosing to sit with all of them, you noticed Capitano wasn’t there- as per usual.

As you sat with them and they talked about their lives and missions, they’d ask you a few questions about Capitano. At first, it was simple questions about your marriage thay were deemed common sense which you’d answer yes to, but then it went into questions about him, which is when it got humiliating.

They’d ask about where he was from, what did he like to do in his pastime, why does he hardly talk, what’s his favourite food, drink, how does he like his tea, what are his next missions-

All you could not answer, and instead of you, his own wife answering, Pierro did.

You excused yourself when you realized that was absolutely humiliating. How could you, his wife of several months- close to a year now!- not know anything about him yet his BOSS, knew everything?!

When you left, Pierro noticed everything at that moment, and decided he NEEDED to bring this up with the Archon of Love, but let’s be real.

She already knew, and was trying to figure out ways to fix this; “We need Pantalone and Childe for this. They’re handsome, touchy, flirty and perfect.”

The next day, you’re confused when Pantalone and Childe are suddenly bothering you with everything; Yes, usually they’re asking you to help with paperwork but today was different…

It started in the morning when Childe came up to you asking you to spar with him. He’s only ever asked once, and he literally almost killed you that time. You were strong, but you had no vision and he was a literal harbinger.

He promised he’d go easy, and the sparring session lasted for about 30 minutes. By the end of it, you were completely sweaty and your hair was a mess- he apologized and offered to take you out for lunch

You accepted but decided to at least go put your stuff in your husbands office before you left.

Capitano is a little confused when you walk in absolutely drenched of sweat but just decides you’ll probably talk about it tonight when you’re both laying in bed and continues to work on a few papers.

“Apologies,” You let out a breathy laugh, putting down any bags you brought to work that morning. “I just finished sparring with Childe, and he’s taking me out for lunch. I’ll be back later.”

He doesn’t say anything and you just sigh, already knowing not to expect anything.

From the top of the castle, Pierro and The Tsaritsa watch as you and Childe run away from the castle, clutching onto your coats for dear life from the harsh, cold wind.

“So, what’s the plan here?” He asked, “Pardon my forwardness but I truly am confused.”

She just grinned. “Well, first I asked that Childe were to spar with her and take her out to lunch, which I truly hope makes Capitano the slightest bit jealous. Then upon her return, Pantalone will magically return from the gardens with a rose and give it to her and she’ll go back to her office and tell Capitano about her day and he’ll realize and get jealous and fuck her.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I did not need to know that last part. And if that doesn’t work?”

“A god always has another plan.”

You and Childe are at lunch for about 2 hours; really it would’ve been shorter but you and Childe were BOTH insane talkers so naturally you were there for a long time.

Returning to the castle, Pantalone was seen emerging from the gardens holding a few roses and Childe, for some reason, took that as his queue to wish you his goodbyes and hurry away.

“Good afternoon, Lord Pantalone.” You bowed and he just chuckled.

“No need for pleasantries, Y/N. Here,” He handed you a rose and your eyes were full of surprise as you took it.

You became rather flustered, beginning to stutter. “O-oh, thank you! It’s beautiful.”

“Just for a beautiful girl like you.” He winked and you giggled.

“I’ll be off to give these to Signora. Have a lovely day, Y/N.” He smiled before making his way down the hall, and in seconds he was gone.

You stared down at the rose, feeling giddy. You’d never even received flowers- not even when you got married! Your wedding day wasn’t really even a wedding, instead Pierro officially declaring for you two to be wed and well, that was it.

You practically skipped back to your office, ready to tell your husband all about your day.

“So this morning I got here and the MOMENT I did Childe magically found me and asked me if I wanted to spar! and I was like hesitant because the last time we sparred he like literally almost killed me but he promised he’d go easy on me and he sortaaaa didn’t so he decided he’d take me out to lunch and we were there for like 2 hours just talking and he was so king enough to pay for both! then we got back and Pantalone gave me a rose and he did so with such a sweet compliment! Isn’t that sweet?”

Your husband was not phased by your sudden burst and continued to work, just nodding at everything every few seconds.

“That’s nice.” He murmured, continuing to work- seriously what the hell was he working on for so long?!

You frowned, expecting a little bit more, but at this point it was stupid to expect something from him that now you were a little angry but mostly sad.

You glanced at the rose you had put down in a vase within the room and sighed. “Do you really not care? Are you seriously not jealous?”

His movements paused.

“Like, a man literally just took me out to lunch for 2 hours and practically spent the first half of the day with me, and then another man gives me a rose and tells me I’m as beautiful as it is and you don’t say anything?! I know this is just an arranged marriage but- but I would’ve thought that…maybe you loved me as much as I love you.”

You waited for him to say something, expecting just anything, but that’s the thing with expecting-

You’re met with nothing.

Sighing, you bowed down to him. “My…apologies for overlooking this marriage…my lord. I’ll return to work.” You grimaced acknowledging him so formally, but maybe that was for the best.

You turned around, rushing out of the room before he could say anything, but mostly so he wouldn’t see your tears threatening to pour out.

When the door closed behind you, you let the tears fall as you ran through the dark halls of the castle, trying to find anywhere to hide in.

You made your way to the lounge, happy it was empty as you took a seat on the comfy couch, dragging a hand down your face while also wiping your tears.

Archons, how would you even return home to him tonight? It would be absolutely awkward to have to lay in bed beside him after that outburst.

For the first time, you dreaded having to return home. You loved the warmth he brought whenever you two lay beside each other, and it was even better when he held you.

That made you cry more- how could someone as distant as him, be so soft towards you and hold you when he doesn’t even love you?!

“You know when I heard you and Capitano were getting married I was like- no way.”

You jumped at the sudden voice and somehow, you hadn’t even noticed Signora was sitting beside you and you yelped as you quickly stood up, bowing down.

“M-my lady! I’m so sorry I was just lea-“

“You’re not going anywhere.” She shook her head, patting her hand down on the seat you were just on.

You sighed, realizing you genuinely couldn’t disobey her and sat beside her. You took in her words, “you weren’t the only one; everyone else was shocked.”

“Do you ever think the Tsaritsa was wrong in her choice?” she asked.

You frowned. “In full honesty, I trust her majesty, but maybe this was something she didn’t look into with all her might. It just…doesn’t seem to be working out.”

Signora leaned back into the couch, deciding to get comfy and you took that as a sign to do the same. “Have I ever told you about my lover?”

You shook your head.

“God, 500 years ago. A bit more, actually. He was handsome, amazing, annoying- he honestly reminded me a bit of Capitano. Sure he talked a bit more but I was the talker in our relationship. However, then the cataclysm happened and…look at me now.”

You frowned, looking at her sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She smiled sadly, “No matter how much they don’t talk or how much they don’t seem to focus on you or anything, take into consideration that they’re willing to be there. It’s difficult, to find love especially in so many circumstances, but love is everywhere. I see it with you two, and I know. I know you two can make it.”

You glanced down at her lap to find a rose.

You looked back up at her. “What should I do?”

“Force him to talk.” She laughed. “A man as big as him also has a big heart. Seriously, cry In front of him and he’ll become puddy and do everything for you. He made a child cry once and he almost cried.”

You both broke out into fits of giggles, you trying to imagine that and her remembering it.

“Thank you.” You smiled at her, “Permission to-“

“Just go,” She waved her hand, rolling her eyes. “You don’t need my permission.”

With one final smile, you quickly got up, rushing to make your way back to his office and force him to talk.

Emerging from behind a wall was the Tsaritsa, who stood behind her friend. “How was it?”

“They’re so fucking.” Signora grinned.

You opened the door to his office, but was met with him standing right in front of it, hand hovering in the air.

You practiced what you were going to say to him, but now having him standing right in front of you- literally towering over you- you had no idea what to say.

However, he out his hands up to his helmet, forcing it off and just throwing it to the side and you were met with his glossy eyes.

“I’m sorry,” He sniffed, moving his fingers up to rub at his eyes. “I love your rambles- archons I live for them. Every morning when I wake up, I can’t wait to to hear you talk about what your so excited for throughout the day and at night, I can’t wait to hear how your day was. I love you, my dear. I know I don’t…express it much, but I do. So much.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes once again. “Cap…”

“I’ll prove it to you.” He breathed out, a hand making its way to cup your cheek to wipe away a falling rear before he leaned down, connecting his lips with yours so passionately, but most importantly, it was full of love.

He deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue in and you let out a whimper as your knees buckled, and he was quick to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you up right before he decided to just pick you up and you yelped, breaking the kiss as he carried you over to his desk, pushing everything off and ignoring the sound of the vase with the rose breaking- instead he smiled at it.

Down the hall, Pantalone, Childe, Pierro, Signora and the Tsaritsa were all grinning.

“They are one hundred percent fucking.” Childe laughed as they all high-fived each other- expect Pierro, who just walked away with a sigh.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #pierro genshin impact #pierro x you #pierro x reader #capitano x you #capitano x reader #capitano #capitano genshin impact #Pierro genshin #capitano genshin #genshin hurt/comfort #genshin angst #genshin fluff #the tsaritsa

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