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krirebr · 4 months ago

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More Than This 7

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~3.9k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, fighting, my own rampant abuse of italics and em dashes, non-stop continuous action (not the car chase kind, but like, the no section breaks kind), the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: There's no going back now.

Permanent thanks, as always, to @paperweight91 who lets me talk her ear off about this and always has the best input.

I cannot wait to talk to you all about this one, so please leave me a comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think! And if you need to come scream at me, that's even better!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You woke up to the sun streaming in through the windows. You rolled over and checked the time. It was after nine. You’d slept hard—the exhaustion of everything catching up with you. And yet you still hadn’t woken up feeling rested. You couldn’t remember the last time you did.

You grabbed your phone and groaned when you saw all the notifications. Texts, missed calls, two voicemails. All from Steve. He was freaking out.

Are you ok?

Did something happen?

Please call me

And a few more just like them. You were too tired to answer. You didn’t know how. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t ignored your messages before. You grimaced at your own pettiness. You would answer him when you knew what to say.

As soon as Lola noticed you were awake, she hopped off your makeshift bed and ran to the door, scratching at it to be let out. You sighed. Of course, the safety of your isolation couldn’t last forever. The good news was that it was late enough that Ransom must be gone. You could put that off at least until the evening.

When you opened the door, Lola at your heels, you heard someone moving around downstairs. You hadn’t thought it was a Carol day, but you must’ve lost track. It wasn’t until you were halfway down the stairs that you saw Ransom puttering around in the kitchen, his back to you. Your stomach dropped. Shit shit shit. Why was he here? You contemplated running back into the gym, but as soon as she saw him, Lola darted out ahead of you and raced down the stairs so she could dance around at his feet. He crouched down to greet her. “Morning, Lola,” he rumbled, his voice still full of sleep. “D’you have a good night?” She hopped up and down, pawing at his leg.

You took a deep breath and gathered all of your courage. “She wants breakfast,” you said from your place on the stairs.

His head whipped up to you. He stood up awkwardly. “Oh, uh, where’s her food?”

You came down the rest of the stairs and passed in front of him into the kitchen. “I’ll do it,” you said as you went straight to the cabinet where you kept Lola’s meal supplies.

Once you had her fed and briefly let her out the back door, you noticed multiple bags of take-out on the island. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, uh,” Ransom rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at you. “I thought we should probably have breakfast. Together. And I didn’t really know what you like, so…” he shrugged.

You quickly took stock of the food. There were diner waffles, pastries from a bakery, eggs benedict from a fancy brunch place. “Thank you,” you said. “That’s nice.” You grabbed a danish from the pastry bag and sat down at the island. “I, uh–” you started then stopped, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I freaked out last night. I, uh– I don’t know what happened. I– I was scared, I guess, by the–” you gestured to your stomach. “But um, I shouldn’t’ve– It won’t happen again, you know? I’m fine now. Everything’s fine.”

Ransom leaned against the counter, facing you, and closed his eyes. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then looked you straight in the eyes and said, “I’m so fucking tired of that word.”

You set down your pastry and looked at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re always so fucking fine, aren’t you? I ask how your day was, it was fine. I ask how you feel about something, it’s fine. I ask what’s wrong when you’re clearly upset, and you say, ‘Oh nothing, everything’s fine.’ It’s fine! It’s fine! It’s fine! I can’t hear it one more time.”

All you could do was sputter for a moment. “What– What are you talking about?! I’ve just been doing what you wanted!”

“How is this what I wanted?” he asked, his frustration shocking you..

But then, your mind started to catch up a bit and you were suddenly filled with indignation. “You told me to pack light! You– You– You made it clear! I know you don’t want me here so I’m just– I’m just trying to do what you want! I'm staying out of your way!”

He laughed and the hollow sound was so startling. “This is you staying out of my way? You’re just this presence that’s always here! That makes me feel unwelcome in my own home!”

That had you standing up so quickly that it sent the stool you’d been on tumbling to the floor behind you. A frightened Lola scampered up the stairs, her collar tinkling sharply, but neither of you noticed.

“What?!” you shouted, “How could– I– This is your house! How could you ever feel unwelcome here? I’ve never felt welcome here for even a moment! I’m not even a guest here, I’m just this, this– I don’t know! I’m just this pest that you wish you could exterminate but you can’t. You don’t want me here and I feel it every single day.”

“Well, you’ve never told me that, have you?” He almost growled out. “I’m just supposed to know! I see you making this list in your head of everything I’m doing wrong, all the ways I’m disappointing you but you never say anything about any of it. But then when I don’t know how to fix any of it, because I don’t actually know what’s wrong, you resent me for it!” You started to open your mouth and he slammed a hand down on the island between you. “Don’t deny it. I can see it whenever you look at me. You’ve decided that I’m the villain here, right? I’m the bad guy in this story. And I don’t–” He moved his hands to his hips and looked away from you, shaking his head. “I have no idea who you are,” he said, quieter now but no less forceful. “You don’t want me to. You have me just grasping at straws and– But you’ve just decided, huh? That you know exactly who I am.”

All you could do for a full fifteen seconds was just gape at him. He looked tired suddenly. Sad, as if that made any sense at all with anything that had happened. But then you remembered everything that had happened and your anger came flooding back. “Yes, I know who you are. Of course, I do! Because you showed me! It’s like you’ve completely forgotten how we met. Or our wedding!” A tear fell down your cheek and you knew more were about to follow, ready to tip over your lashes. You wanted to wipe them away, but you also just couldn’t take the time to stop right now. “You were awful! Really fucking awful. Right from the beginning you were so cruel and– and now– No! I– How can you expect me to come to you with anything when you all but told me not to during that first dinner?! When you told me you didn’t want me taking up any space here? Or that you would get rid of Lola?! Of course I don’t talk to you! What am I supposed to talk to you about when you terrify me? When everything I have comes from you and you don’t give me anything? When you hold all of the power?!”

“What fucking power?” Ransom shouted, throwing his arms wide. “If I had any power at all, neither of us would be in this mess!”

“It’s still more than I have! I have nothing! You’re the heir. You matter to people. I’ve only ever been a bargaining chip. And now that they’ve made the deal, no one gives a shit what happens to me. You could do anything to me, and they wouldn’t care! Even my mom–” You cut yourself off, tears choking your voice.

There was a beat of silence, and then, “Even your mom what?” Ransom asked, his voice rough. He was staring at you like the next words out of your mouth would be the most important ever spoken.

And it was only because you felt it too, everything riding on this, that you managed to say, your voice so small and your eyes downcast, “She only ever asks if I’m making you happy.”

When he didn’t say anything to that, you looked back up to find him staring at you, his eyes incredibly serious. But not angry, something– something else. Finally, he sighed and, putting both elbows on the island, said, “I’m really fucking miserable. How ‘bout you?”

You would try to examine it later, the way your instinct in that moment was to apologize or try to downplay your own feelings, your mom’s voice in your head no matter how much you hated it, but instead you took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, I’m– I’ve been so unhappy.”

He nodded then scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think,” he said slowly. “I think we’ve both been acting like if we just ignore this hard enough we’ll wake up one day and this will be over and our lives will go back to normal. But now with the–,” he gestured to you. “We can’t keep doing that. We gotta– We have to figure out a way to live with this.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, wrapping one arm around your stomach. You couldn’t help but look at him a little warily. Was this real? Did he mean it? “How do we do that?”

He chuckled ruefully. “I don’t know.”

You just looked at him for a moment before you were interrupted by your stomach growling loudly. “Sorry,” you said, awkwardly. “I didn’t eat much last night.”

“Right,” he said with a decisive nod, “breakfast.”

You each served yourselves from all the food he’d ordered. He righted the stool you knocked over and you both sat down to eat. You didn’t say anything, neither of you did. You figured he had just as much to think about as you did.

You couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d said he had no idea who you were. It’d been easy, maybe, to forget that this was something that had happened to both of you, when you were in his house, facing his family, working your way into his life. It’d never occurred to you, after that first meeting, that he might want to get to know you, might want to see past all the walls you’d put up to protect yourself. But you felt like they were fortified now. You weren’t sure how to take them down.

Even though you kept your focus on your food, you could tell he kept glancing at you. You felt his eyes on you every few minutes. Finally, as you both finished up your food, he cleared his throat. “I’m an asshole,” he said quietly. “I just am. I always have been. But uh, you didn’t– You didn’t deserve that at dinner. Or the wedding. Or when I yelled at you last night. It didn’t– I don’t think it occurred to me that you’d take me, what I said, seriously. I’m not used to people listening to me, not like that.”

You stared at your plate for a moment and tried to keep breathing. “I– Of course, I took you seriously. What else would I do? I didn’t know you and I was already so scared and– How was I supposed to know you didn’t mean it?” You could feel yourself starting to cry again and wiped furiously at your eyes.

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, I– I didn’t do a good job of understanding how hard this was for you. And I– I’ll try not to do that again.”

All you could do with that was nod.

“But uh– I need you to talk to me, tell me when something’s wrong. I can’t– I need you to talk to me. I’ll, uh, I won’t be mad or– I feel like the few times you’ve let yourself be upset, those are the only times I felt like I could actually see you. I want to be able to see you.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m uh,” you started, trying to find your words. “I’m used to having to put on a mask. It’s really hard for me to not do that.”

He nodded slowly. “How ‘bout,” he said, “I’ll try to be less of an asshole if you try to let yourself be more of one?”

You laughed. You couldn’t help it, it just bubbled out of you, to your own surprise. “Sure,” you smiled, “yeah. Deal.” You met his eyes and he looked proud of himself. There was something about the way he was looking at you that made you have to look away. You put all your attention into taking a last bite of your food.

“So,” he said, and he sounded serious again. “I think we should talk about last night.”

It took everything in you to not shrink down. You wanted to do anything else, but he was right. You needed to. So you nodded and waited for him to start.

“You said– Well. You said a lot of things. But let’s start with– You said I keep you trapped here.”

Your brow furrowed a little bit. “Well, yeah, you only have one car and you don’t have a driver. How am I supposed to go anywhere?”

The dawning realization on his face would have almost been comical if it had been about something that hadn’t caused you so much pain. “Oh my god,” he said. “I– Why didn’t you– No, right. Yeah.” He took out his phone and started typing. “I’ll figure something out. Do you drive?”

“Steve taught me, a little, when I was a teenager. But I’m not– I’m not super comfortable,” you shrugged.

“Ok,” he said typing a few more words, then put his phone down. He looked at you very seriously and said, “Now I need you to tell me exactly what you meant about siccing my mom on you.”

“Oh, well, just that she came over, you know, the next day after I told you I wanted to find a job.”

Ransom’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Here? She came here?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, not entirely sure what was happening. “She let herself in and said you’d talked to her about how I wanted to work and that you wanted me to focus on giving you a family. That that was my job now.”

Ransom’s face darkened in a way you’d never seen before. “Fucking–” he growled. “Goddamnit.” You watched him warily and when he made eye contact, you saw the way he worked to soften his expression. He shook his head. “I never said that. I just, I brought it up to her because she has connections, you know, in surprising places. I should have known. I was stupid. And when you didn’t bring it up again, I just, I assumed it hadn’t worked out and you didn’t want to talk about it.” He took a deep breath, clearly trying to make himself calm down. “Did she say anything else?”

You looked at him carefully. It was almost like he looked different today, something about him. It really did seem like he was trying. So you took a breath and decided to trust him. “She wasn’t very nice to me. She never is. She’s– She’s only ever been awful to me.”

“Yeah,” he said grimly, “that’s fucking Linda. Alright, she comes here again, I want you to tell me. Don’t even talk to her, just call me right away. She tries to call you, you tell me. She ever says anything to you, you tell me, ok?”

“Yeah,” you said, and you didn’t know how to guard yourself from the warmth that spread through you. “I’ll tell you.”

He nodded. “Good. And if you still want to get a job, I’ll help you, ok? I want to do that.”

“Yeah, I,” you sighed, “I don’t know. Everything’s really overwhelming right now.”

“I get that,” he said, “but if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I will,” you promised. Then, when he didn’t immediately bring up another topic from the night before, you raised one of your own. “Um, you never use your gym.” He looked at you, confused, and you shook your head at yourself. “Sorry, it’s just, you have all those rooms upstairs that you never use, and well, you and I,” you rested a hand on your belly, “we did what we needed to do, right? So, uh, I’m having my bedroom furniture shipped here and if it’s alright, I’d like to, uh, turn that room into my room.”

There was a long pause, long enough for you to get uncomfortable, start to worry that you’d messed up. His face was blank, you couldn’t find any clues there. Then, finally, he seemed to shake himself and said, “Yeah, sure, of course. I’ll, uh, I’ll have it cleared out for you.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Great! Thank you! I’m sure you’ll be happy to have your own space back.”

“Right, yeah,” he said and nodded several times. “Yeah.”

You both got quiet again after that, but it didn’t feel as oppressive as it often had before. Eventually, you began cleaning up breakfast together. As you moved around him in the kitchen to load the dishwasher, you paused. “Hey, uh, what’d you tell your parents? About last night, dinner?”

“Oh,” he said, turning to you from the fridge. “Just that I was suddenly violently ill and we couldn’t make it.”

That stopped you completely. You’d been bent over as you loaded plates, but now you stood up, giving him all of your attention. “Really? You didn’t– didn’t blame me? Or uh, tell them about–”

He finished what he was doing and closed the fridge, then closed some of the space between you. “What? No, fuck that. Listen, any excuse to not have to deal with Richard and Linda is welcome. I’m serious. Fuck them.”

That was when everything really hit you, just how badly you'd misread so much of what had happened. Of all the pain you’d suffered over the past months, how much of it had been self-inflicted? Would everything have been so much easier, for both of you, if you’d just been willing to talk to him? For what felt like the thousandth time that morning, you felt your eyes beginning to well. You tried to turn your head away, but Ransom noticed before you could.

“Hey,” Ransom said quietly as he approached you cautiously, stopping right in front of you, his hands hovering in the air between you both. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know,” you said, your voice tight. “I don’t know. I just– Everything’s just been so hard.”

Ransom sighed, heavily. “Yeah. I know.”

“Um,” you let out a defeated, embarrassed little laugh as the tears began to fall down your face. “Do you think it’s too early to blame pregnancy hormones?” you asked, as you tried to make yourself stop crying.

Instead of dismissing it as a joke, Ransom looked at you very seriously. “I think that you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

There was something about that, the way it felt like acceptance, that made the tears come even harder.

It was then, of course, that your phone started vibrating on the counter, Steve’s ID flashing on the screen. “Oh,” you said, “um, shit.” You just stared at it, not quite able to pick it up. “I, uh, texted him last night. During everything. I’m sure he’s freaking out now.”

“Right,” Ransom nodded. “Well, I’ll give you some privacy.”

You were suddenly filled with the ridiculous need to not be alone right now. “Uh, yeah, thanks. But, uh, maybe, maybe don’t go far.” Your voice dropped out a little at the end of the sentence, embarrassed.

He looked at you carefully and you couldn’t imagine what he saw. A mess, probably. “Yeah,” he said, “of course. I’ll be just upstairs. Shout if you need me.”

Then he left and you took a deep breath. The call had gone to voicemail while you’d dithered, so you called Steve back, sure he’d try again anyway if you delayed any further.

He picked up immediately. “Oh thank god,” he breathed. “What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just–” you began, trying to keep your voice strong. But of course, you couldn’t hide from Steve.

“Are you crying?” he asked gruffly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not, Steve,” you lied.

“Chipmunk,” he said, sadly, knowing how hard the childhood nickname would hit you. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You closed your eyes as tightly as you could. “Nothing. It’s just–” You knew you had to tell him something but you had no idea where to start. You could tell him, you supposed, about– about the baby, but it felt impossible to say out loud. And you had no idea how he’d react. Or, rather you had a very good idea, and it was very, very bad. You didn’t have the energy for that. Or the strength and courage. Not now. Maybe not ever. But you couldn’t talk about what happened the night before and this morning without mentioning that part, so really, you couldn’t talk about anything. And you knew your brother. You knew how that would go over. “I’m tired. And I miss you.”

He was silent for several moments. When he finally spoke, all he said was, “I know something happened.”

“It didn’t Steve. Everything’s fine.”

“I know you’re lying to me. Why are you lying?” He was pleading now and you were too tired and hormonal for this.

“Steve,” you pleaded right back, your voice breaking just a little. “Can you please just believe me? Just this once?”

There was another long pause, and then, “Goddammit, I hate this. I can’t– I worry about you all the time. Every time I see a missed call or text from you, my stomach drops. But now you won’t talk to me. And I can’t help you. I don’t know what to do about any of it.”

“Steve,” you sighed. “I know you think you should always be able to fix everything, but there’s just nothing for you to fix this time, ok? Please?”

He just sighed and you both quietly sat on the phone together. You didn’t know what to say to him but couldn’t hang up. Finally, he broke the silence with “I really fucking miss you.”

You smiled just a little, even as you wiped the tears from your face. “I fucking miss you too. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said quietly. He sighed again. “Ok, I should go. But we’ll talk again soon. Take care of yourself.”

“Ok,” you said softly. “Bye.” You hung up and set your phone down then put your head in your hands and let yourself cry without trying to stop it. You didn’t notice anything happening around you until you felt a weight settle onto the couch beside you and suddenly your lap was full of Lola. Then a hand gingerly touched your back. When you didn’t move away, it started gently moving up and down. You couldn’t help but lean into it.

The strangest sensation came over you. You couldn’t explain it, but as you sat there on the couch, crying while Ransom rubbed your back, you somehow felt the best you had in months.

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#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #arranged marriage au #more than this #kris wrote something

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wasitforrevenge · 9 months ago

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oh sweetheart pt 3

pairing: boxer!ellie x f! jesses sister!reader

word count: 5.4k!!! longest part yet yay

rating: 18+ (smut will be coming in later parts)

warnings: dealer! boxer!ellie, weed, alcohol, boxing, kissing, joel is dead in this, talk of abusive relationship, smoking, they’re drunk but eveything is consensual ofc! lmk if im missing anything

summary: you and ellie share a moment and both of you admit it :)

author notes: hi everyone thank you for all the love on this series <<<333 this is a good one! not all the way edited yet but i wanted to post cause i finished it 20 minutes ago! sorry for the wait but i think maybe some smut in the near future ;) requests are open and id love any feedback. thank you for 200 followers and over almost 2000 likes!! this is unbelievable and im so grateful! pls let me know if u want to be added to the taglist!!!

part 3 | part 4

series masterlist | main masterlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

finally friday is here, it feels like you’ve been counting the minutes until you see her again. you woke up around eleven am and put water in the kettle to make yourself some tea as you went to the bathroom to get your morning routine done, paramore playing over your speaker in the bathroom. your routine is something you’ve started to build since you moved to try and keep your anxiety at bay, not all the time it works but its a good way to get your day started. you started with washing your face, brushing your teeth, then brushing the bedhead out of the mess you call hair.

a couple minutes later, you hear the kettle hiss and you make your way back to the kitchen and turn off the stove. you picked your favorite mug out of your cabinet and make your tea. leaving the kitchen, you went back to sit on the couch and think about a million different outcomes that would possibly happen tonight when you see her. you wonder if you’re reading too much into the way she talked to you, was she even flirting with you at all? or just being nice? did she just feel bad about seeing what happened outside her gym?

your phone buzzed in the mist of your thoughts on your and you read a text from dina telling you they’re leaving for the gym around 7 and if you wanted a ride. before responding you pulled up the weather app on your phone and decided you could walk there, its a warm summer day out again and by the time the sun fell, it would be cool enough to walk and it was only about 15 minutes from your house, that and leaving open the possibility that she would want to drive you home again.

you texted her back saying that you would just meet them there. you looked at the time seeing its about eleven thirty so you still have a while until you have to leave. you decided you were gonna be productive today. you did laundry and washed your sheets, did the dishes, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom and made a sandwich for lunch even thought by now it was 4 o clock. as you were walking around your apartment, you made a mental note to try and find some nice thrift stores around to help you decorate your place. you made your way to your bathroom to shower for tonight.

you love taking long showers, its your guilty pleasure. thanking god that your landlord pays your water bill as you dried off from the shower, put on your strawberry lotion, a big black t-shirt and fuzzy socks to hang around in while you did your hair and minimal makeup. you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her tonight. new girl was playing on the tv in your room as you finished the final touches on your face. doing light everything since its hot but still wanting to look nice for the occasion: finally seeing her again.

four episodes later and its 6 o clock so you change into a pair of black levi shorts and a green top. your hair and makeup still looked good from earlier so nothing to touch up but you still triple checked yourself. you wish you could have smoked today to help beat the nerves but you wouldn’t have anything until tonight, smiling to yourself thinking of you and her on the phone both laughing when you asked if she was bribing you. you slipped on your converse, grabbed your bag, and locked the front door behind you and started making your way to ellie’s gym.

you got there around seven and you didn’t see jesses car yet but you did see hers. ellie’s beat up 2000 green honda cry sat in a spot towards the back of the parking lot. memories of you leaning on her window practically admitting you liked when she called you sweetheart and the peaceful feeling of comfortable silence you both held.

you heard someone call your name in the distance to turn and see dina getting out of the car, you were so concentrated on ellies car you didn’t even see them pull in. you made your way over and greeted them with a hug as dina wrapped your arm in hers and dragged you in with her, jesse following behind. you tried to calm your nerves but it just wasn’t working. not nervous about being here, even after what happened outside with the man last time, but of seeing her again. you’ve only spoken to her a handful of times but you thought of her more times than you can count.

as soon as you made it closer towards the front door, it was loud, like the first time you were here. loud people, loud lights, loud everything but now knowing it was ellie’s changed it. jesse held the door as dina went in first and you both followed. florescent lights beamed from above you, shining on the sweaty bodies in the gym. it was just like it was the first time you came. your nerves followed you everywhere, but it was worth seeing her again.

you went in and dina guided you guys to the same table you had last time. you wonder if they sit here every time. you looked around for ellie but you didn’t see her anywhere. you saw her car so she has to be here.

dina and jesse got up to go get drinks from the makeshift bar while you sat and waited for them to bring back your drink. you looked over to them waiting their turn when you heard something behind you.

“hey sweetheart,” she whispered close to your ear, and before you could respond she pulled out the the seat next to you and sat down.

“hey ellie,” you said almost startled. she was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a black t shirt and all her tattoos were showing this time. it was almost mind blowing seeing her and you couldn’t even explain what it did to you. you don’t understand why a girl you barely know has this effect on you.

“i told you to call me el,” she said and laughed kindly towards you, “i have the stuff for you” she finished.

“oh thank you, i’d hope so considering that’s the reason i came,” you joked.

“wait you mean you didn’t come to see me?” she said sounding fake hurt.

“that was just a plus,” you flirted. dina and jesse came back to the table with the drinks before she responded to you and they both greeted ellie as they sat.

“hey els we didn’t see you before we ordered the drinks, i can go get one for ya?” jesse asked her.

“nah i’ll wait til the next round, thanks though” she told him. she smiled at you and the conversation started between all four of you, before you knew it an hour and a half passed, you had more three more rounds and just enjoyed your friday night. the match started and you find it so convenient that you can still see the ring from where the table is so theres no need to get up and watch considering its not ellie up there.

you watched for a bit until it was coming to the end, cheering erupted and ellie told dina and jesse that she was going out for a smoke, before she got up, she leaned over to you and whispered “you coming sweetheart?” softly in your ear, her face inches away from yours, then she moved back and smiled. she held out her hand and you held it as she pulled you up with her as you blushed so hard, you swear you turned into a tomato.

your eyes stayed on her hand holding yours and the beautiful moth tattoo covering her arm, not believing that she’s actually touching you again. you followed behind her as she moved with you through the gym towards the door, as you walked out still hand in hand you saw the side of the building, it was the same place she defended you the first time you met her.

she lead you over to a bench that you never even realized was there. your hands broke as you both sat, she went pull out her cigarette pack and the lighter from her back pocket when she noticed you were staring at her still. she smirked as she opened the pack, and surprisingly pulled out a joint. she put it in her mouth and brought the lighter up to it before telling you “its not polite to stare sweetheart.”

you blushed and looked away as soon as she said it. she laughed and she passed the joint to you, you told her you just couldn’t help it. and you really couldn’t, she’s breathtaking. the way her freckles danced across her whole face, her eyes had a small tint of brown circling her iris, the scar on her right eyebrow, the way her lips just sat perfectly on her face. you so badly want to reach out and touch them again.

you hit it a couple times, you are sure your cheeks haven’t been back to normal since you saw her and you wonder if she’s noticed. you passed her back the joint and she staring at you taking in every detail of you too as she brought it to her mouth and took a hit. blowing out the smoke she smirked, and said “i can’t either sweetheart.”

she leaned back against the bench, legs spread a little as she handed you the joint and asked, “so what brought you here besides jesse?” she acquired. you told her about living in brooklyn, above the cafe you worked and how your time spent there wasn’t totally great but the real reason was running from a shitty past, you weren’t ready to tell her specifics but you told her that’s why you left, you had to get away from what happened there but it was more like who. she told you she understood and then she told you “well i’m glad you’ve made your way here sweetheart.”

you don’t know if it was the alcohol or weed but you sat outside on the bench for another 20 minutes, smoking and laughing as you talked about so much: you talked about the tv shows you’re both watching, the albums you had on repeat, the guilty pleasures you both had and what you both did in your free time. you spoke to one another like you’ve known each other for years. it just feels so good to talk to someone like this again.

she learned that your parents live in portland, so moving coasts was a big deal but you felt like you were on auto-pilot growing up and you knew you had to get out when you could, she learned that you dropped out of college two years and haven’t made any plans to go back but you would like to. you told her a couple funny stories about you and jesse growing up and she laughed at them all.

you found out that she plays guitar and that she spends time drawing and journaling. you learn that ellie was adopted when she was 14, she grew up in boston, and she has an older sister named sarah but that she doesn’t come around much anymore since she gotten married. she told you that her dad passed away from a heart attack about a year ago and since then, her and her uncle tommy.

“im sorry to hear about your dad els” you sympathized.

“its okay sweetheart, just fucking sucks sometimes.” she responded softly as she put the joint out next to her and slipped it back in her cigarette pack. instead this time she pulled out a cigarette and lit that this time. she slid it in her pocket before she stood up off the bench, offering you her hand again and said you should probably head back inside.

you grabbed her warm hand and stood up to follow her, you started the walk towards the side door but before she opened it, she turned around to you and faced you.

“hey sweetheart?” she asked.

“yes els?” you waited for her to continue, her hand still covering yours.

“im glad you came sweetheart, this was nice, i mean as nice as it gets sitting on the side of this place,” she laughed softly, you felt like she was closer than ever but maybe because you just wanted her to be, “you know, id love to do this again.. and maybe play you something on my guitar.. if you want.” she said almost nervously, feeling the urge to look away from you.

“i would love that els.” you said, looking up from staring at your hands together to smiling in her face. you cant believe she asked you, part of you prayed she would, you knew there was a connection here. she realized it too. your eye contact never faded as you stood here.

“great, im looking forward to it more than you know,” she told you sweetly. she let go out hand and you felt slight disappoint in your heart as you assumed she was going to turn around and open the door and this moment would be over. instead, she brought her hand up to your face and let it rest on your cheek as she brushed her thumb over it. the touch of her warm hand sent sparks through your body this time and you couldn’t be bothered moving as she grew closer to you.

“you have no idea how much i wanna kiss you right now.” she whispered, from only what felt like two inches away from your lips. fuck, you thought silently. she was so close to you, you could feel her breathe as she spoke.

“please do it.” you practically whined, you couldn’t take this anymore. all you wanted to do was feel her lips on yours. after you spoke, you felt her thumb move from your cheek to brushing your lips softly. the drinks you had definitely brought out your confident and the want you had for her.

“oh sweetheart,” she purred towards you, “how badly i want to but it has to be more special than this.” she said moving her thumb back to your red cheek.

“just as long as it happens el,” you responded, breathing heavier as your nerves grew in anticipation.

she nodded as she slowly moved her hand off your face and brought it down to your hip and gave it a squeeze, still smiling at you as she reached to open the door and let you through in front of her.

you walk back into the gym and went to find jesse and dina. you saw jesse at the bar and ellie went over to him, telling you she was getting more drinks. you went over to dina at the table and took a seat next to her. you asked her how the match went and she told you same as always and nothing crazy this time.

“you guys were out there for a while, whats up with that?” dina asked while smirking and wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“dina…” you laughed, “we just smoked and talked for a bit.” you replied to her.

“sureeee that’s all, we see the way you look at her!”, she squealed, “and the way she looks at you, it just seems pretty obvious.”

you laughed and told her that nothing happened yet but you did admit to her that you wanted it to.

“stop we knew it!” she laughed loudly and hit the table in excitement. you pulled your hands to your face that was full of embarrassment.

“what do you mean you knew it, was it obvious?” you gasped. your eyes darting towards ellie at the makeshift bar.

“to me and jesse yes.” she told you still smiling over the fact that her two friends maybe starting something new soon.

as you went to reply, the drinks were on the table, jesse and ellie were back already at the table pulling their chairs. the conversation between you and dina came to a halt as you all started talking. you all sat, conversing and finished your last round by the time it hit around 11 pm. you were getting tired and you were definitely drunk after all the rounds of drinks everyone bought. the matches ended an hour ago and you guys were the last few people left besides the lady behind the bar and a couple stragglers paying their tab and chatting.

“hey i think me and d are gonna head out,” he said looking over to dina, who was definitely feeling all the drinks she had, he laughed and said, “this one needs to make it home into bed. can you make it home okay? i can take you now if you need” he asked talking to you.

“no i’m gonna take her home.” ellie cut in before you could respond. you looked at her and smiled as jesse told you to text when you both got home safe. he helped dina up and they made their way to the door. your eyes followed til they left and then you turned to ellie, who was already staring at you.

“that okay sweetheart? that i take you home again?” she asked smirking towards you.

“yeah els, that’s okay.” you blushed as she stood up and put her hand out for the third time tonight. you connected your hands again. touching her had your skin was burning up. you followed her into a back office. paperwork, receipts, and random things littered the room. as you looked around and saw a decent couch, a safe in the corner and a coffee area on a little table and a large desk with folders and boxes of things you didn’t know.

you watched as ellie disconnected your hands to go over to pick up her backpack from the side of the couch and then she grabbed a jacket she had hanging over the deck of the chair to the desk, she slid it over her shoulders then grabbed a piece of paper, writing something non legible from where you were standing. she smiled when she turned towards you and held her arm out motioning to the door for you guys to exit.

the stragglers were gone and the bartender bid ellie goodnight as she walked out the front door. you walked the distance of the gym and made it to the door with ellie, she leaned over and turned the lights off and then held the door opened for you.

you told her thank you and she nodded towards you, “i think we should walk, it’s not far from your apartment.” she spoke looking towards you for confirmation as she turned and locked up the gym for the night.

“that’s okay but how are you going to get home without your car?” you asked. you didn’t want her walking home alone either, you knew she could handle herself but still, the thought made you worry.

“i’m only 5 minutes away from you actually so its not far, ill be back for my car tomorrow.” she told you. you nodded and both of you continued to walk the sidewalk in a comfortable silence next to each other. you glanced up at the sky, noticing the stars and the way the moon beamed over the city. it was so much cooler now than it was earlier and you moved to brush over the goosebumps that covered your arms. ellie noticed your movement and took off her jacket. you turned when you noticed what she was going and told her, “no its okay we’ll be there soon i don’t need it.”

“sorry sweetheart, got to make sure you stay warm.” she smirked as she put it over your shoulders and watched as you put your arms in. you smiled to her as you readjusted it and continued the walk to your place. the smell of her engulfed you and you’ve never felt so comfortable.

“its so beautiful.” you whispered, “and quiet, new york was never like this. they don’t lie when they say the city never sleeps ya know?” you finished.

the city you moved to that you wish you could escape from. the shitty and abusive relationship you wish you could leave behind. the things you tried the most to forget. you never spoke about it, you just ran. the city you wished had better memories connected with it. but now all you want is to create new memories.

when you moved across the country, you told yourself that you’re not getting into anything here because you know you need to heal from the those years of abuse and insecurity so the last thing you expected was to meet ellie and end up feeling this way about her. you don’t want this to happen and you ruin it because you aren’t okay but with her, you feel like you could be okay one day.

“i could only imagine, boston was a busy place too but not the same, it always is quiet here.” she chuckled softly.

“i love it, things finally seem calm now.” you smiled as you looked her. she took in the sight of you in her jacket and she loved it. she can only imagine seeing you wear her t shirts… or nothing at all. she shook the thoughts from her head but she just couldn’t help it. you were the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. you were breathtaking. she couldn’t believe she’d met someone like you in this shitty small town.

the town where her dad and her moved, and the memories of them together haunted her. now that he was gone, she knew a piece of her was missing. things were incomplete without him. he was all she thought about, the guilt of what happened and how she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

the only time ellie wasn’t thinking about joel was when she was thinking about you, she was grateful that she met you. she didn’t know what this was going to turn into but she hoped it would be something. she sees the effects she has on you and she wishes she really knew how to communicate with you that she feels the same way about you.

you continued the walk in a comfortable silence, both of you wrapped in your thoughts of each another and eventually made it to the front of your building. you turned to face her with a smile,“here i am,” you spoke softly to her, not wanting the night to come to an end.

“here you are, thank you for letting me take you home sweetheart, call it peace of mind,” she admitted.

“thank you for walking me els… do you want to come up?” you said without a thought. you didn’t know if this is was the alcohol talking but you know you didn’t regret it when you said it and you wish that’s what you could blame it on but you knew you wanted this even sober.

“if you want me to sweetheart” she smirked as she responded.

you stepped closer to her as you looked at her, only a couple inches away from her face, watching her eyes move from your eyes to your lips. you knew you both could feel the tension.

“please just say yes.” you sighed wishing you could feel her lips on yours already.

“okay sweetheart, lets go.” she pulled away but connected your hands and it took you a second to recognize that she agreed. you turned around, suddenly nervous about the fact that she’s going to see where you spend your days. you opened the door to the lobby, and ellie held the door as you both walked in. she followed you up the stairs by the front, and you made your way to the front door as you held ellie’s hand in one and used the other to pull your keys from your bag.

you unlocked the door and you brought ellie in with you before the door was shut and you were locking it. you took off her jacket and put it on your coat rack and turned to look at her.

“okay it’s kind of a mess so i’m sorry but-“ you started before she cut you off.

“sweetheart, your place is practically spotless, you should see mine.” ellie laughed.

you laughed as you pulled ellie over to the green couch that took up a lot of your living room but it was a dream purchase and you loved it. you told ellie to take a seat as you walked over to the kitchen and grabbed some water for you both. as you were walking back towards her, she was digging around in her backpack. as you placed the waters down and took a seat, she pulled out weed in a jar and handed it to you.

“here this is yours.” she said.

“oh thank you! i totally forgot, do you want to smoke now- fuck i don’t think i have anything to roll with.” you told her as you went to open the windows in your living room.

instead of saying anything, she reached back into her backpack and pulled out a jar of already rolled joints.

“i came prepared.” she laughed, “and you won’t owe me anything for that.” she said, motioning to the stuff she gave you as her hands were cracking open the jar of pre-rolls.

“ellie- no i’ll give you the cash,” but she shook her head no and brought the lighter to the joint between her lips.

“no, it’s on me, don’t worry about it.” she responded as she took a hit.

“do you give other people weed for free?” you asked, looking at her as she was smoking while sitting next to you on the couch. you wish you could stay like this forever.

“only pretty girls that i like…” she said sweetly as you held eye contact as she handed you the joint.

“oh so you think i’m pretty?” you teased her as you took a hit.

“sweetheart, i think you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.” she told you. you instantly blush and look away from her, trying not to choke on the smoke you held in your lungs.

“thank you els, i think you’re beautiful.” you said to her. when you looked up, you saw her cheeks tint lightly as she grabbed the joint you held out to her.

“thanks sweetheart.” she said as she put the joint down on a cup at the table you’d been using as an ashtray and she brought her hand up and held your cheek like she did earlier. you couldn’t help yourself as you nuzzled your face into her warm hand. your eye contact only made the tension in the room worse.

“you really are beautiful… sweetheart, can i?” she asked as she looked down at your lips. you nodded and as she came closer, your lips just barely brushing, as she asked, “i need to hear you pretty girl.”

“yes please els- please just kiss me already.” you begged.

her lips were on yours before you could even realized this was actually happening. your lips moved slow together at first but you couldn’t help yourself from deepening the kiss as ellie brought her other hand up and tangled it in your hair as you moaned, her tongue slipped into your mouth, both of you tasting the weed and alcohol you consumed.

one of your hand rested against her chest and the other gripping her arm as you melted into the kiss. both ellie’s hands were in your hair now as your tongues continued to fight for dominance but you let her win and moaned again and she swallowed it as she kissed you.

ellie pulled your leg over her lap so you straddled her, never breaking your lips apart. your lips continued to move in sync as you grinded against her. her hands on your hips moving with you. your lips stay connected until you broke the kiss to come up for air and rested your forehead on hers.

“you okay sweetheart?” ellie panted as she caught her breath too.

“yes els just need a second.” you said as your eyes stayed shut while you tried to control your breathing. you couldn’t believe that you guys finally kissed. the tension was killing you both and now it’s finally happened.

“hey it’s okay, take your time sweetheart.” ellie said as she rubbed a hand along your thigh at a comfortable pace, brushing the cloth from your shorts as she moved it. she brought the other one up to your cheek and lifted your head to look at you. you looked tired and ellie didn’t want to take full advantage of you after you guys had been drinking and smoking all night.

“hey sweetheart, lets get you to bed, we’ll finish this another time i promise.” she said sweetly as you mumbled an “okay els thank you,” and moved off her lap to sit back on the couch. ellie stood up and offered her hand. you stood up and walked both of you to your bedroom.

you moved to sit on the edge of your king sized bed and ellie stood in front of you still holding your hand as you asked her if she wanted to stay the night because it was late and you didn’t want her walking home.

“sure sweetheart i’ll sleep on the couch, and only for your peace of mind.” she chuckled, thinking back to the conversation earlier.

“els we can share the bed, it’s okay, i’ll keep my hands to myself.” you joked and she laughed.

“i don’t think i’d be complaining if you couldn’t but i’m okay on the couch.” ellie insisted.

“els please just lay with me.” you said looking up at her as she moved her hand to rest on your cheek again.

“okay sweetheart.” she finally agreed.

you smiled up at her and you took ellie’s hand from your face and guided her into the bathroom connected to your room. she watched as you bent down and opened the sink cabinet and grabbed a toothbrush. you turned around and handed it to her with a smile. you guys brushed your teeth and then went back into your bedroom.

ellie stood here as you moved across the room to your dresser, and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts from your drawer and handed them over to ellie. she told you thank you and you smiled at her. ellie walked into the bathroom to change and you walked back to the dresser. you stripped yourself of your shirt and bra before throwing on a different oversized tee and changing your underwear. you didn’t even realize you were soaked after what happened on the couch.

ellie watched you as she leaned against the bathroom door frame as you untangled the sides of your underwear after you pulled them up.

“you’re perfect”, she thought in head before speaking out loud. “thanks sweetheart.” you turned around when ellie spoke, sending her a smile before you moved to your side of the bed, you grabbed the duvet and moved it so you both were able to get in your bed.

you and ellie laid facing each other in a comfortable silence as you were both growing incredibly tired. you felt your eyes starting to get heavy and felt ellie’s hand brush your hair back from your face so you kept your eyes open to look at her.

“el?” you whispered.

“yes sweetheart?” she spoke quietly back to you.

“i really like you… i don’t know if this is too early but it just feels right.”

“i feel it too sweetheart, i like you too so don’t worry,” ellie said softly, hand still holding your face, “now get some sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning pretty girl.”

“goodnight els.” you whispered.

481 notes · View notes

donelywell · 1 year ago

Text

This is just a summary of how the story goes, kinda like bullet points I guess. If the time ever comes that this eventually gets written as an actual story, It would be a lot more detailed than this. Also, I don't own Sonic Unleashed or think the story is bad (I actually really like it), this is just how a strange person (me) would handle the story in their own fan universe thing.

DEATH EGG October 1

Tails helps Sonic get up to the Death Egg.

Sonic storms the Death Egg, going Super.

Super Sonic follows Eggman, he begs for mercy, but it’s a trick.

Super Sonic gets the Chaos Emeralds ripped right out of him,

Eggman fires a beam filled with the Chaos Energy to the planet, cracking it into 7 pieces, releasing a Giant Monster, but it fades away.

Sonic turns into the Werehog, only barely hearing Eggman yell something about the Gaia Manuscripts through all of the intense pain that he’s going through, and is shot out of the Death Egg with the now drained Chaos Emeralds. Tails, on the Tornado-1, sees this happen, and chases after him.

APOTOS October 1

Sonic crashes into Apotos. He notices that there is a small being passed out near him, so he tries waking him up to see if he’s okay, this ends up scaring the kid for some reason.

Sonic realizes he can’t talk for some reason, his throat feels off and his teeth feel weird, so he uses sign language to try asking if the kid is okay. The kid doesn’t understand, but assumes (probably not the smartest move) that he means no harm because his eyes seem genuinely worried, plus he’s slowly moving as though afraid to scare off the kid again.

The kid calls him ‘Mr. Monster Guy’, which makes Sonic realize he’s not his usual self. This mildly freaks him out, but he tries to act calm to not freak the small creature out. Using his claws, he writes in the dirt, which luckily the kid can read, and realizes the creature has amnesia. Sonic worries that he might have caused it, and vows to help him get his memories back. (Little Fella joined the party!)

Sonic looks at the rising sun, looking at it as something to lean on to stay optimistic, and turns back into his regular self. He finds his shoes and now drained Chaos Emeralds lying on the ground, and with a lot more pep in his step, holds onto the kid and races off to the closest city to hopefully get someone who recognizes the little creature (and see if Tails landed there after he launched Sonic into space).

>Windmill Isle Day Act 1 (plays as it normally would)

Sonic questions everything that just happened, the Chaos Emeralds being drained, the strange new form he took not even 15 minutes prior, what this ‘Gaia Manuscript’ is that Eggman was talking about; but he’s interrupted by the kid getting sidetracked from the memory treasure hunt with an ice cream stand that holds the famous Chocolate Chipped Cream Sundae Supreme! After a little begging, Sonic ends up paying for 2 cones. Sonic ends up calling the creature ‘Chip’ as a temporary nickname until they get his memories back, Chip absolutely loves it.

While they go around enjoying their ice cream and asking questions about Chip's past, Sonic ends up being given someone's pair of gloves.

Meanwhile, Tails is searching for Sonic, he’s surprised that his communicator is broken, or at least not responding, because it should have been able to survive a fall that high. He manages to get a rough estimate as to where he might be judging by where he fell, but Sonic could really be anywhere on this section of the planet with his speed.

Tails is highly concerned for Sonic’s health and safety since the last reading from the communicator reported that his heart rate has spiked dramatically right before he saw him fall from the sky.

>Windmill Isle Day Act 2 (You play as Tails as he flies around town, looking for Sonic)

As he still searches for Sonic as it’s heading into sunset, Tails gets a call from Knuckles telling him that something happened to the Master Emerald and that Angel Island has landed.

Tails tells him that he’s looking for Sonic at the moment, but promises to come over as soon as he can.

After the call is over, Tails realizes how long it’s been since he last ate and spots a local Gyro Food Truck. He ordered a bunch for Sonic to eat later if he spots him.

As the sun is setting, Sonic and Chip still haven’t found anyone who recognizes Chip. Sonic gives Chip a pep talk when he sees that the kid’s down in the dumps, suggesting that there are lots of areas around the world, maybe he’s just not from here. Right when Chip feels reassured, Sonic transforms back into the Werehog. Both are stunned and Sonic realizes that he changes into the form every night (Chip needs a moment to come to the same conclusion).

Chip immediately notices that the Sundae Stand Owner is acting strange, and asks him what’s wrong, even suggesting he eats some ice cream. Sonic shoves his now too-big-shoes into his quills until daytime. Chip accidentally drops the ice cream, but Sonic manages to catch it by stretching his arm out. Both are extremely surprised by this, kinda freaking Sonic out with how strange it feels but he thinks it’s kinda cool. Chip really likes the stripes.

Meanwhile, Tails finds himself in between a rock and a hard place. He’s surrounded by these strange enemies and forgot his weapon at the Tornado-1. He would normally spin dash into them, but judging by the sharp claws and spikes on them, his fur would not be enough defense from that hurting him more than it hurting them.

He could have also flown away from danger, but he’s currently trying to protect a lost little girl he found surrounded by said enemies. He knows he doesn’t have enough time to drop his defenses and fly away while carrying her before they attack, so he just has to try keeping the already miniscule amount of ground they have.

While not looking, an enemy gets a lucky hit on him, causing him to yell out in pain. Despite the pain, he refuses to stand down and keeps defending the little girl.

With his new sensitive hearing, Sonic hears Tails’ yell. Instincts kick in, realizing his little brother is hurt, and runs after the sound. Chip, with his not as sensitive hearing, flies after Sonic in confusion.

>Windmill Isle Night Act 1 (plays as it normally would)

Once he makes it to Tails’ location, all of the enemies focus on the actual threat, Sonic. The little girl uses this to run back home, and Tails hides behind a wall holding his wound from bleeding too much.

The enemies are piling onto Sonic, so he unleashes all of the energy he’s built up (and some instincts he didn’t know he had), somehow becoming more powerful for a period of time, yet feeling a little high off the energy practically pouring out of each hit he makes in this unleashed state.

Sonic Emotions Handling Scale:

Normal form- Can hide it frustratingly well and has normal emotions,

Werehog form- His face and new Wolf-like instincts make it hard for him to hide it but he still tends to try to push it off if he can + negative emotions are a lot more powerful + he’s a little clingy,

Unleashed Boost- Can’t hide his emotions to save him and they are extremely powerful + easily goes into a downward spiral in emotions + somehow even more clingy + he still is super emotional when getting out of his Unleashed state and will do things without thinking.

After the fight is over, Tails calls out to Sonic, he knew from the moment Sonic stepped into the battle that it was him, Sonic practically raised him for almost half of his life, how could he not tell? Sonic however, getting out of his Unleashed Boost daze, realizes just how dangerous and brutal he could be in this form. So once he hears Tails’ call, he books it in fear of possibly being able to harm Tails unintentionally.

Chip finally makes it over to the aftermath, he and Tails do a quick introduction (like saying, you know Sonic? You're the brother he was talking about? yep, let's go!), and book it towards Sonic. Tails is surprised that he’s actually able to catch up to Sonic, even on all fours, Tails’ namesakes spinning can beat him in a race now.

Sonic manages to hide in a barrel, in abject terror of what he is. Tails and Chip quickly catch up and sit near the barrel, trying to calm Sonic down. Letting him know that no matter what he looks like, he’ll always be by his side and his little brother. He proceeds to go on about how looking different doesn’t make you a monster or evil, having his tails sway as he talks, as a subtle reminder to Sonic that he went through that fear of being different too.

Sonic slowly uncovers his muzzle to use his hands to sign that he’s a monster who could hurt Tails. Tails is surprised by how open Sonic is being so open about his fears, he normally tries hiding it as best he can so others don’t worry for him (a bad trait that Tails is extremely relieved didn’t seem to carry over when he’s in this form). Tails gives a sad look and recounts all of the times that Tails has accidentally hurt Sonic due to not being used to touch (and the several months it took him to learn how to retract his claws), but Sonic stuck around every time and didn’t blame Tails for it at all.

Tails suggests that he runs a vitals check on Sonic back at the Tornado-1, to see if he can find out what’s causing this form. (Tails joined the party!)

That, and the smell of several Gyros in Tails’ bag, seem to be enough to make Sonic slowly walk out of the barrel on all fours. Tails notices that Sonic’s stomach is rumbling and uses this to walk him over to the Tornado-1 without having his mind drift into negativity (wow, that’s odd, Sonic’s almost never openly negative). Chip finds out Gyros are really good, almost eating 3 before they make it back to the biplane.

After eating, Sonic stands up (and is actively trying to ignore the stomach churning feeling of being so incredibly huge compared to his little brother), to sign that he can’t retract his claws or speak properly. Tails tries to make the best of it and says that Sonic doesn’t need to touch anything for the check up.

As Tails is cleaning up and patching his wound with the first aid kit he has stored in the Tornado-1 (he wanted to immediately do the check up on Sonic, but the werehog refused to even start that until Tails took care of his cut first), Chip is in awe that Tails can understand what Sonic means just by looking at his hands. He really wants to learn how to do that, so he can talk to Sonic at any time of the day. Tails tries to recall that he might still have some flashcards he’d give to any new friends Sonic made when he couldn’t speak.

Now tired and worn out from a long day of running around town, eating tasty food, fighting enemies, and making discoveries, Tails and Sonic sit on a brick fence next to the Tornado-1 to run a Vitals Check.

It’s a symphony of yawns as Chips quickly falls asleep on Sonic’s leg. Tails, being exhausted, unconsciously rests his tails on Sonic's lap (a deep sign of trust) and leans on him as a pillow (he realizes the sheer amount of muscle behind the fur, theorizing that the expanse of his arms might have stretched the communicator too far, thus breaking it), like how he sometimes would do that when the brothers ride a train late at night after a long adventure.

Sonic was in a half asleep state himself, but once he felt Tails’ tails rest on his lap, he perked right up. He’s surprised Tails can trust him so much even in this form, he thought this whole time that Tails was just bluffing it so Sonic would feel better. He might still be bluffing… using that 300 IQ brain to use this token trust sign to make Sonic relax. But Sonic quickly has exhaustion fog his brain again, letting this track of negative thoughts fizzle out at the moment.

With a yawn, Tails murmured that Sonic’s Vitals all seem normal, if not for a slightly higher than average Chaos Energy reading, but it’s not enough for it to change his form.

Tails is officially out, Sonic’s delicately soft fur and heart beat lulling him to sleep. Sonic, still not wanting to possibly harm anyone by accident, gently slips Chip off his leg, landing on his enormous paw (that’s another thing he feels off about, why are his hands so big?), and rests him on his head as he curls up as best he can without jostling Tails much. He tries his best to both find a comfortable position and keep his dangerous hands away from anyone. It’s a rough night, but they all got through it.

In the morning, Sonic transforms back to normal, with Tails handing him some spare gloves and a back-up communicator from the Tornado-1. After enjoying some Tarts for breakfast, they head out to Angel Island. Sonic accidentally falls asleep on the wing while Chip studies his flashcards in the back seat.

Angel Island

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic the werehog #tails the fox #miles tails prower #chip the light gaia #sonic unleashed #Sonic Unleashed: World Reimagined #Apotos #unbreakable bond #Uahh!! The first area is done!#The whole reason I'm doing this is mainly because I want to throw brotherly fluff into unleashed >:)

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trashmouth-richie · 8 months ago

Text

the raven told me of you

eddie x female reader

crafted from this prompt list by: @bettyfrommars @somnambulic-thing @allthingsjoeq

summary: eddie is released after six months of being behind bars with a false identity, he was never lonely because you were there with him, until you weren’t. now, coming home to a new life with his old name granted back to him. he navigates flashbacks, and trying to settle back in with wayne in private protective seclusion, alone— or is he?

8.1k

tw: 18+ angst. fluff of a new relationship, light smut— s1, s4 canon events with reader inserted into the timeline, mentions of insanity, death, witness protection, government cover-ups etc. this could be a continuation or stand alone fic of your touch but is not necessary to read.

releasing: thursday 3/7

Owens’ worked his charms. The government covered up the mass hysteria and pinned the murders of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred on an accidental chemical reaction from arsenic, radiation and terpenoids. The results left their bones liquified from the toxic lick of acid and torqued before solidifying once again.

The Hawkin’s Post called it ‘a combination of sickly tainted water from the school cafeteria.’

Parents were urged to have their children tested at the local clinic for extra precautions, and thankfully no one else had been affected.

On Thursday the Eighteenth of September, at approximately 1300 hours… an hour into quiet personal time, Mr. Edward Munson, was once again, a free man.

At first he thought it was possibly a mistake, a horrifying joke fed by his many delusions. But when they called him into the warden’s office, he sat across an oak desk from a tall man with a skin bald head, shining like a lightbulb.

He used Eddie’s full name—not the persona he was given— and gave him ten minutes to collect his belongings. It was then he came to realize that maybe he wasn’t crazy after all.

Six long months in the clink with his brain spinning hallucinations beyond his control he wasn’t sure if he’d come out of it without a government issued lobotomy— and in the blink of an eye, it came to an abrupt end.

Prison was cold, unwelcoming in shades of gray coating the ceilings, walls, floors, any service imaginable. As if there was one color sanctioned to the American Prison system and gray was the less costly option.

Concrete was probably more pliable than his bed was. The food was impeccable— if you were a raven on a mealworm diet. It was just shy of hell, and it made the inhabitants calloused to a helping hand or squirreling away from making friends.

Seven months prior, Eddie was in his prime. For the first time in his life he was happy with where he was at, school was almost over and he had a true chance of walking the stage of graduation.

And you, he had you.

Beautiful, charismatic, sweet you.

It was almost like he conjured you up himself with a hard roll against a plyboard table of a twenty sided dice. Mesmerizing eyes that seemed to shimmer in any light, a smile that could soften Medusa’s rocky stare. You were perfect.

The first time his eyes laid on you was across the cafeteria. Everyone moved with the mundane routine, but you were shining like a spotlight had been placed on you overhead.

Your soft skin beckoned him like a moth to a flame. Smooth as silk, and he started to wonder what would your flesh feel like in his hands…would you cower away from their roughness?

His mind raced, and his heart pumped firmly whenever you walked past him, you smelled like ripe fruit, warming by the sun, and Eddie began to understand why Eve was tempted so easily.

And so began the daily task of seeking you out. He was able to spot you like Waldo amongst the boring gray faces of every other girl.

You shone like a gem, a sapphire filled with the darkest of depths, and like an enthusiast to your craft, he wanted to know the breadth of your soul.

His gem.

It was by total chance that he stumbled upon you after months of stray glances. He was walking backwards, yelling to Gareth about being on time for Hellfire that night, when he bumped into something that yelped in surprise.

It was you.

Sprawled and landing hard on your butt. Papers scattered from the collision of your face mashing into a denim patchwork vest.

He stumbled over your feet, falling beside you in a mess of curls and cigarettes, the one between his lips still intact. Your eyes met his for the first time, and that’s all it took for him to fall head over feet, in this case Reeboks, Eddie was a goner.

Your smile spread a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before. And your laugh? Made his knees physically weak.

He still didn’t know how he managed to swing it, but he charmed you into agreeing to a ride home. Conversation came easy with you. You were sweet yet comical, a bit of a smart ass. He was grinning like an idiot.

Chatting about books, then music, he bantered back and forth, teasing on your choice of horror, astounded in your tastes— but nevermore, he was enthused, enamored.

Witty and shit giving, you had him wrapped around your finger before the van pulled in front of your place. A permanent dimple pecked into his cheek that wouldn’t subside no matter how hard he tried.

A ten digit number exchanged on lined paper was the start of the end. A corny fist pump and a pep talk on his jaunt back to the trailer park.

Eddie was living on cloud nine.

He called you that night, foregoing any dumb advice he had seen in movies or heard at school at waiting a certain amount of days or hours, he went on pure instinct alone, and almost threw up all over himself after punching the last number.

You answered with your name after saying a proper greeting and he stumbled over his own tongue before choking out that it was him.

“Sorry who?” you had teased, Eddie’s heart fell into his stomach with relief when you giggled on the other end, “are you calling to sell me some boy scout popcorn, because cheddar is my favorite… but for you I might just buy a tin of caramel.”

A heart laugh erupted from his trailer, loud and barking. “Boy Scouts weren’t really my thing, princess.”

“Ah,” you reasoned, “knots too hard?”

He laughed again, that damn dimple achingly prominent as he smiled through the receiver, and you swore you could hear his cheeks squeak, “something like that.”

An hour had passed and Eddie found himself in the snares of coiled phone cords as he wore a pattern from his bedroom to the kitchen, fiddling with things left on the counter. Even going so far as to start a load of laundry and empty the sink.

You too were in the trenches, living solely on the scraps of information of Eddie’s life that he tossed to you like a pigeon in a park.

He was smart, filled with colossal amounts of knowledge on anything from cars, to reading sheet music. He had an ear for rhythm, cocky enough to have you hum a tune so he could pick up on it, and add to it. Eddie was a closeted genius under the untamed curls.

“Shit— I’m talking too much, huh? " he asked after a long winded speech about a campaign he was planning for the freshman in Hellfire. “I get carried away sometimes,” he admitted with a chuckle, a ripple of embarrassment heating over his body in a wave.

“Not at all,” you eagerly replied, “tell me more about Kas!”

“Well princess, I could show you, if you wanted?” He prayed you’d say yes, to whom or what he was praying to— hewasn’t sure, just crossed fingers and pinched his eyes shut in hopes that you wouldn’t think he was some loser yanking his dick to figurines and elf lore.

But you didn’t, you had said yes faster than he finished asking. And from there— it was history.

He went to bed with a spinning head and a heart wrapped in lace, sugar coated with your sweet voice in his ear, the same lopsided grin he had worn since tripping over you at school.

—

Stepping out into the first breath of freedom, the sun felt heavy on his skin. It itched his arm hairs, the heat touching his neck for the first time in years since he grew out his hair. The brightness stung his eyes.

He had become accustomed to the hollowing sag of fluorescent lights paling his skin to almost translucency, a true dracula in the pits of a four walled hell.

A croaked caw is loud overhead, singular— followed by a fluttering of wings, and the bend of a tree limb.

The clothes he wore didn’t feel like him, the ripped cotton Hellfire shirt wasn’t clean coming in and wasn’t clean coming out, Shredded where the demobats feasted on him like a hotdog at a ball field.

His jeans stunk of decay and murky water from the gate. Caked with mud, dried several times in the days of being on the run, the jeans chafed his skin raw, gnawing on his leg hairs until they popped free, giving up the fight.

A manila envelope held his rings, clashing together in a melodic tone. He slotted them one by one on the correct fingers, yet they felt loose, heavy and familiar all at once.

He was ready to pitch the envelope into a trash bin when he felt something else in the bottom, having to rip it apart to get to whatever was inside. When the ground was littered next to his waterlogged Reeboks, and his palm held the small silver item, his eyes brimmed with tears.

—3

The nightly phone calls soon turned to walks around the trailer park, Eddie listening intently as you strolled around the driveway, kicking up little clouds of dirt or catching the occasional rock with the toe of your sneaker.

He matched your steps, learning about your passions after graduation, how you favored sweets over salty treats, and the embarrassing truth of how after your friend Barb went missing, you didn’t have any friends at school.

“Well, now you have me,” he chirped earnestly, dark eyes squinting in the setting sun as he knocked his elbow with yours, a smirk on his lips, “I’ll take care of ya.”

It was as simple as that, and the easiness of it made your nose tingle with a burn as you fought back tears at his kindness.

Weeks of walking with you after school round and round Forest Hills— the scenery started to change.

The emerald grass faded into sharp tawny weeds. Foliage turned the color of autumn and the air began to crisp and chill.

It was then, on a windy Tuesday afternoon, that Eddie invited you into his home, he made sure to kick dirty laundry under his bed, hide the Playboys in the closet behind an old pair of shoes and empty the heaping ashtrays the night beforehand.

A jewel in a shit shack— you equally looked out of place and fit in with the cluttered belongings of his uncles at the same time.

“My castle.” he announced, bending low and holding the door open like a gentleman.

He showed you around the small square footage, taking less than fifteen seconds to point everything out.

“And that?”

“That’s.. my room.”

It was silly then, how nervous he was to let you into his space, even though during your walks you acquired everything there was to know about him.

—

Snow was on the ground when your after school routine of going to Eddie’s was as second nature to you as breathing.

You were sitting on his unmade bed atop the rumpled comforter and soft sheets, socked toes dangling from the side of the mattress. A textbook balanced in your lap, pencil between your teeth. Your eyebrows pinched in a studied strain as you tried to solve a calculus formula.

His voice had startled you, not sure when he had gotten up or how long he was standing at his desk, looking almost sick.

“Got something.. for you.. something dumb that I saw.”

He tried his damndest to be cavalier. But Eddie was everything but.

Ten dollars in quarters, more hours than he had spent in a pizza joint ever, and a hoard of tiny plastic containers from a machine holding costume jewelry, he had finally gotten what caught his eye.

A silver ring adorning a bat with an indigo colored stone in the center. It didn’t come close to the actual beauty you possessed but the blue stone reminded him of the way you moved through the crowd that day, like a rare gem.

Tired eyes focused on him, a nervous little twitch in his body didn’t go unnoticed as he fumbled with something behind his back, a wanton smile smirked on his lips.

You smile, adjusting the book from your lap and rubbing the pressure from your eyes, “a gift? Ed, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t have too,” he charmed, moving closer into your space, his jeans tickling the tips of your toes, “but… I wanted to.”

“Should I close my eyes?”

He chuckled, “sure sweetheart, hold out your hand,”

Your eyes shut tight, eyelashes squishing against your cheeks as you giggled, “why am I nervous?”

He stared at the rubber eraser shavings that clung to your bottom lip. The graphite on your fingers, a small hole in your jeans atop your knee, showing a smooth expanse of skin that he itched to touch. You had captivated him since the day you crossed his lazy stare in the lunchroom, and he thought of very little else.

He could still hear your squeals when you opened your eyes and saw the delicate ring in your palm. Still feel the way his heart raced when you jumped up and hugged his middle, squeezing him tight against you, the smell of your hair filling his nose with notes of strawberry, or was it peach?

He didn't realize he had the ring fisted in a vice grip until he felt blood in his palm, salty tears collecting in the thickness of his mustache, his lip quivering.

They’re wiped away in haste at the sound of a police cruiser. The familiar scent of thick gasoline exhaust and a camel cigarette follow with the squeak of his driver's door and release of weight on the suspension.

A towering frame crowds the sun from Eddie’s brow. A thick mustache sits square on an egg shaped skull, sunken cheeks replace a once plump face. But the drawl and cigarette smoke are welcoming just the same.

“Hey kid.”

—

Eddie was nervous.

The time you two had been spending together was making him feel giddy. You hadn’t kissed or so much as held hands yet but the air between you both had become filled with dense clouds of lust induced tension— it was hard for him to see straight.

He didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you only saw him as a friend, but tonight was the night the boundaries would cross, and he stood armed like a Paladin, ready to conquer his toughest quest yet, you.

Ice had built up on the broken concrete steps to Eddie’s trailer and your slick bottomed converse hit the glassy surface just right for you to slip backwards, falling into strong leather coated arms.

“We gotta stop falling into each other princess,” he chuckled, holding you tight with hands wrapped around your waist, “gettin’ too old for this nonsense.”

His scent invades you, encompassing you with hints of camels, a stick of big red gum, and starch powdered deodorant.

Your laugh bubbles out of your throat like a giggly champagne, “damn, you got me, totally do this on purpose, insurance claims. All the rage nowadays.”

He buffers for a bit as you tip forward on your feet and spin to face him, one step higher than he stands. “Only kidding,” you tease, grabbing his chin with icy fingers.

His doe eyes stare into yours, lost in the way you made his heart skip and his bones feel like jello, blood ablaze. He’s searching, searching your face for a giveaway— a sign.

And it happens like clockwork.

Your hands rest on either of his cheeks, thumb sweeping softly over the creamy silk of his skin, an audible sigh slides from his throat, followed by a giggle slipping from yours before your voice narrows to a whisper, “lighten up Munson.”

The salmon tone of his lips have gone more cherry colored in the cold, a little chapped from the frigid temps. Not the usually pinkish orangey hue they drew in warm light when he flustered over History notes and Chemistry study cards.

The apples of his cheeks were rosy like a cherub on a Valentine’s Day card, glittered with fancy text swirling of “Be Mine?”

Coal eyes shone with the bright overhead light from the trailer park. A deer caught in headlights.

Eddie was handsome in a way nobody in Hawkins was. A mane of curled brown locks, eyes to match. He was affectionate, easygoing, and you loved him the minute he crashed into you a few months ago.

Hands still on your waist he pulled you towards him, “Can’t,” he breathes, almost silently, a huff of air between you now, “not when I’m around you, never around you.”

Your fingers tangle together around his shoulders, braided in the hair at the nape of his neck, he shudders at the temperature change on his skin.

A quirk in your brow you tilt your head and wet your lips, “why’s that?”

He joins you on the crowded step, taller than you, peering into your face, heavy hands still on the waist, “for months, haven’t been able to think straight when you’re here,” his hands rub on your lower back making lazy circles under your coat with his blunt nails.

“Hmm..” you tease, twirling a curled lock of of the hair framing his face between your fingers, sultry eyes looking up at him in thick eyelashed innocence, “wonder why that is?”

The opening he was looking for, boundary lines down in overgrown grass as if he rolled a crit hit to whatever creature stood in his path was laid out for him.

His forehead comes to rest on yours, surprisingly warm in the cold, his nose like frost as it slid beside your own, bumping and sharing one breath.

“ ‘cause I’m crazy ‘bout you,” he finally admits, heart loosening, unrestricting, “and I can’t stop thinking what your lips would feel like with mine.”

He feels your smile on his mouth, the bated breath you’re holding teasing his tongue, “find out,” is all you can get mutter before his lips press gently to yours.

—

Hawkins was a few hours drive, longer yet after stopping at the nearest diner for a burger and fries. After staring at a menu for more than Hopper’s liking he ordered for himself and Eddie.

The coffee came in white ceramic mugs, the waitress setting them down in the designated spots that were already stained with rings of taupe, years of wear.

“Wayne’s all set up in a new trailer, living high off the hog or whatever he said during our weekly check-ins.”

Eddie ate in silence, chewing slowly, eating but not really tasting. What was freedom if you weren’t a part of it?

He’d be the first to admit that he talked to you when he was stressed. When he thought he couldn’t shut his eyes without seeing the horrific beings that crawled upside down from our world, he turned to your voice, feeling you wrap around him gave him a sense of hope.

“It’s not in Forest Hills, somewhere a little more private, government owned land.”

Eddie sipped at the bitter coffee, taking the burn in a big swig, letting it hurt. Nodding along as he watched his reflection in the dark cup.

—

Kissing you was like being able to breathe underwater, like the 1986 New Year’s fireworks over Lover’s Lake.

He kissed you at your door before school when he showed up every morning to drive you. He stole more kisses in his van, cursing the 8:15 bell, his hands on your waist pulling you further into him.

Standing by your locker, he kissed your cheeks as you dug for textbooks. He pressed his lips to your ear in the lunch line, making you squirm.

He kissed your shoulder when he sat behind you teaching you to play his guitar. Pressing the delicate pads of your fingers into the strings to play each chord with ease.

He’d groan into your neck, while pressing you into the couch, nipping your skin until his lips were raw.

“Where have you been my whole life?”

Your fingers are entwined in his hair, pulling his weight further into you, your legs wrap around his waist, “led astray, lost, so lost.”

He leans up, dark curtains of hair dangling into your face from your position on the saggy couch in the Munson living room.

He smiles a toothy grin, dimples breaching, “good thing I found you then, baby,” he sweeps a rogue eyelash from your cheek, “can’t escape me now.”

“wouldn’t want to even if I were dead.”

—

“Nope, hasn’t said a word, how do you know he can even talk?”

Owen’s sighs on the other end of the receiver, “he’s tough, but he’s been through a lot, needs time to recover, find out who he is again.”

Hopper takes a long drag of a cigarette, “yeah, don’t know about that one doc, he’s mute.”

Short trimmed nails scratch at a tuft of curly white hair, stationed somewhere in Nevada, “Alright, just get him home, I’ll call the uncle and let him know.”

—

Hugs lingered. Kisses deepened. Bodies pressed to one another in a staticky velcro of magnets, unable to peel apart.

Things were hot and heavy between you and Eddie. Smoky, tingly, a fog that had your blood pulsing places you didn’t know was even possible. You didn’t want to be apart, aching to explore every inch of him.

And he felt the same.

Together you set the plans into place.

He purchased the condoms, made sure his favorite mix of the slowest metal music he could find was ready to go. He washed his bed sheets and lit a dust covered candle.

You had done your own routine, showering and thoroughly scrubbing every surface of your skin, lathering a thick lotion on your body, and planting perfume in the direct places Cosmo described as, ‘irresistible’.

It wasn’t his first time. But it was yours.

Running his fingers through his bangs once more he took a last meticulous look around his room, crossing the trailer to answer the front door, where you had knocked quietly.

You were gorgeous, standing in a pair of light wash jeans and a buttoned red sherpa coat. A bag over your shoulder.

“There’s my girl,” he cooed, holding his arms wide and embracing you in his signature bone crushing hug. His lips found yours in a fevered second and he walked you backwards inside, flipping the deadbolt as he kicked the door behind him.

The duffle bag travels from your shoulder to his arm and he breaks away from your tempting lips. Holding your shoulder he pulls you into him, looking at you as he leads you to his room.

“Got everything you need? Toothbrush?”

You smile a little nervously, “check.”

“Okay, pajamas?” he inquires, “could wear mine if you wanted, you’d look pretty damn cute in my Garfield pants.”

“Packed and folded last night,” you say, tickling

his sides, “you were on the phone with me when I did it.”

He stops before crossing the threshold to his room, hands gently pressed to your cheeks, looking into your eyes in a serious manner.

“Are you sure? Like really sure?” his brows knit into concern, “I want you to be comfortable with this.. with me.”

You tug his shirt with a pinched grip, at his waist, staring back into his eyes, the truth on your tongue.

“I want you.”

—

Gravel spits up from the rubber tires as Hopper’s cruiser pulls off onto the secluded road. Eddie’s head hits the window hard with a thud, waking him from a dream.

“Home sweet home, kid.” Hop grunts, cranking the vehicle to a stop after traveling down a long twisting driveway thick with bordering trees and miles of woods on either side. A safe haven for a man deemed dead.

He could make out the taillights of his van, nestled in the tall grass beneath a willow tree, obscured from view. Wayne’s trusty Ford under the carport.

The overcast sky splayed a gray color against the new Munson home, and sitting on steps that weren’t broken, was Wayne.

The passenger door releases with a groan, and he inhales the fresh scent of dirt and summer grass. Finally, he feels like he can breathe.

Wayne’s familiar thin lipped grin is spread wide on his face, smoke lingering from a cigarette in an ashtray. His wet eyes gleam at the boy he once thought was dead, as he stands to greet his nephew.

“Hardly recognized ya with that short hair, Ed, and that beard?” he says rubbing a weathered hand through his own scruff, “givin’ me a run for my money son.”

He hadn’t seen his uncle since that friday morning in March. Unbeknownst to them both, in 15 short hours a cheerleader would die gruesomely in their living room, sprouting a world of chaos and demons, destruction, uncertainty and more carnage.

Hop had explained to Eddie that Wayne was compensated generously for his grief by the United States Government. He was told the ins and outs of what had happened and where Eddie was, and perched on land in a new house, he was told to wait.

—

Spring had sprung, the hard winter that seemed like it would never end was finally seeing its demise. March brought promises of new growth in the soil, and warmer days ahead.

It was a typical Friday, besides a morning pep rally for the laundry basket team after winning an important game the night before.

A pep rally you never attended.

Your back was pressed against the bathroom stall, skirt rucked up with the help of Eddie’s hand.

“We’re… gonna… get caught.” You rasped out between kisses.

His other hand was interlaced with yours high above your head, “probably,” he teased, tongue licking into your mouth, “it’s worth it though? Yeah?”

His hand travels further to the cotton waist of your panties, dragging them further and further down your thigh, his lips assaulting your neck, vibrating with your delicate moans.

“For you?” you question, hooking an arm around his shoulder, as your panties hit the ground, “always.”

He smiles into your lips as he pushes into your warm center, taking the breath from your lungs as you adjust to him, ass cheeks cold on the metal siding of the stall.

Your legs are wrapped into the crease where his elbow meets, his cock dragging in and out languidly, mouths hung open and tasting each other's ecstasy as your eyes drink one another up.

“Swear I’ve never, ever had someone like you, baby,” he gasped, bangs frizzing from being wet from a morning shower then covered in sweat.

Hips pistoning into you, he can feel your walls clench and tighten, your breath choked before you release, saying his name as if it’s the only word you can make out.

He cums hard. biting his lip and burying his face into your neck, “I love you, fuck I love you.”

It was the first time he had said it. He had known it for months, but today in the girls bathroom skipping a pep rally he could give a shit about, he figured it was the perfect place to say how he felt.

He’s still inside you when you say it back, spend leaking from you and onto the tiled floor. Your own eyes wet with the happiest of tears because no one has ever said that to you, not like this.

But this gorgeous man, in all his reputational flaws that didn’t mean shit, loved you. And you had never felt more emotion flooding through you all at once.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

—

Hopper didn’t stay for supper, patting his barely there belly and saying the missus was expecting him home tonight. He tipped a felt hat goodbye to Wayne and to Eddie, telling them to call if they needed anything.

He still hadn’t spoken, only nodded and waved curtly as the red tail lights danced down the tangled web of a driveway.��

“Gonna make pork chops if you’re interested,” Wayne chirped, holding the door open for him as they climbed the same number of steps, “learned how to cook, can y’ believe that?”

He smiled softly, carrying his envelope of release papers and setting them on the table.

Everything from the old trailer was ruined. His guitar, all the band equipment he had stored in his room, the mattress that held more memories with you in them that he’d never get back— all gone, burned to a rancid fiery crisp when the fourth chime rang and Hawkins spread open like a festering wound.

The only thing he had of yours was the small bat ring with a sapphire stone.

Ten dollars in quarters at a shitty pizza place. He should have given you something real.

—

“.. yeah yeah and I was full of shit then,” Eddie grinned as Jeff and Gareth teased him about his graduation timeline. “This is my year, I can feel it.. ‘86 baby!”

He was always a flare for dramatics, dungeon master or not he amped it up for the freshman, acting like DnD was life or death, as if the cult of Vecna couldn’t be missed.

To be fair, he spent months on this campaign, late nights plotting and scrawling into a binder as you sat behind him, playing with his hair.

French braids then pippy styled pigtails, a cute bun on the top of his head with little hairs sweeping against his forehead and at the nape of his neck, perfect curls.

“Ten bucks says Wheeler cries when Vecna makes his return.”

“You think?”

“Definitely.”

Shoving Dustin and Mike with specific instructions to find a replacement player for Lucas, he sits down to his measly little lunch, leaning over to your space and whispering so only you can hear.

“After Hellfire tonight you wanna come over? Wayne bought a frozen pizza and I heard that Family Video finally got some good horror flicks in.”

Stealing a pretzel from his fingers you nod your head yes, “ I’ll get the movie, meet you at the trailer?”

The rest of the day dragged on. One boring class after another, students excited for the upcoming game, teachers unable to keep the roar of amped up Jocks under control, but alas the last bell finally rang. Releasing Hawkins High for Spring Break of ‘86.

Some kids went on vacation, others hunkered down with their friends. And some never made it back to school when classes resumed.

Walking down to his designated selling spot at the forgotten picnic table in the woods, he could have never imagined the trouble he’d be in just seven hours later.

—

Pork Chops seared in a pan with some butter and a chopped onion, Wayne had the news playing on the small tv in the kitchen, listening for the weather report.

The trailer was identical to the one lost to the rotting flesh of the Upside Down. Newer, and a damn sight cleaner, but the layout was exactly the same, except for an added bedroom with an attached bath on the opposite wall of the living room.

The filthy hat collection was replaced by odd cowboy decor and small wolf figurines. Eddie paced around the living room, touching the knick knacks that someone else had picked out not even questioning whether or not Wayne enjoyed this kind of stuff.

He had shown Eddie to his room, a navy blue carpet stretched across the floor, a queen sized bed against the back wall. New new new. Everything was foreign to him.

He would miss the heavy creak of a dresser drawer that didn’t shut properly, his closet door that fell off its track years before. Hell, he’d even miss the itch of the green wool blanket he kept on his bed in the winter months.

“Got your own bathroom too,” Wayne said cheerfully hovering in the doorway, hand rubbing the knob as he stared at the floor, “figured you’d wanna shower ‘fore supper, so I laid a towel out.”

Eddie turned his head nodding while he poked at the too soft blanket folded on his bed.

“It’s good to have you home, Eddie.” Wayne said, finally looking into his nephew’s eyes, “didn’t feel the same without you.”

Wayne wasn’t a coddler, he didn’t want Eddie to feel like he couldn’t be trusted, so he turned to leave, “shower’s got real good water pressure.” He takes a glance back at Eddie, and looks around the room before pulling the door shut behind him.

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, turning away at the last second, avoiding the piercing color of Wayne’s eyes before they could break him down.

—

Ten o’ clock on the dot your car crunched onto the dusty driveway of Forest Hills. Eddie’s van wasn’t parked out front yet, but thankfully the Munson trailer was never kept locked.

The trailer smelled of old smoke and musk from two hard working men. Even if the laundry was never caught up, and greasy wrappers from a quick bite of a burger littered the counter— Eddie’s home was comforting to you.

You didn’t have to fumble around for the light switches anymore, walking in the dark you knew where the table could connect with your hip if you weren’t careful.

Ten steps from the kitchen, down the hall was his bedroom door, five steps back led to the bathroom. He had cleared a drawer for you to keep your clothes in, socks, extra pajamas, some of his favorite pairs of your underwear lived in the top drawer on the right.

The mirror on his dresser held a collection of pictures of the two of you from the photo booth at Starcourt Mall, movie ticket stubs, and the mint condition guitar he kept sacred.

A yawn escapes your tired mouth the warmth of a shower calls to you.

Grabbing a towel from the cabinet, the water sputters under the shower head as it always did, and familiar music floods your ears from the thin walls outside.

—

His reflection is gaunt, different than the last time he looked at himself, the night he struck the mirror in disgust.

He’s too happy to rid himself of the swamp smelling clothes that itched and scraped his skin. The lick of a flame would do them justice, good riddance to the worst time of his life.

The shower is bigger, the head double the size of the one he grew used to. The spray of scalding water hits his head like magma. Burning his flesh, washing away months of isolation, stale air, and stiff clothing.

The water released muscles in his back that had grown crimped from the thin cot he curled himself on. His fingers ran through the shorter length of hair on his head, just above his eyebrows realizing it now was long enough to drip water into his eyes.

He didn’t check the labels before rubbing whatever soap or shampoo it was into his skin, but the slide of it onto his pale and gummy mauled scars felt like butter on toast.

Registering the faint scent of a stixky sweet fruit he couldn’t determine if it was strawberry or peach, but the concoction had him clutching his chest, unable to breathe.

It smelled like you.

You. His best friend.

You. His first girlfriend.

You. The only person he has ever loved— so intensely, it killed him.

You you you.

His gem. All sapphire blues with depths beyond comparison to anyone else who simply peaked on the surface.

Gone.

“Ready whenever you are!” Wayne knocked on the door, “pork chop ain’t no good cold.”

He wipes the tears from his eyes. Regulates his breathing with labored intakes. And finally admits the thing he couldn’t for the past six months.

“She’s gone.”

—

“Sorry for the mess, maid took the week off.”

“You live here alone?”

Murmured voices are muffled under the rush of water from the shower, “Eddie?..that you?”

Shuffled steps get closer and the bathroom door swings open, Eddie’s eyes are wide, wild with excitement as they roam over your form.

He licks his lips, stalking towards you in a lazy manner with dark hooded eyes, “prettiest girl in the whole world in my bathroom?” His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him, a breathtaking move leaving you giggly as his hand caresses your cheek, “hope you’re naked under these clothes.”

He presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, dipping you low and swinging you back up, he tastes like Mountain Dew and lingering hints of nicotine, spread with a wicked grin.

“I missed you, handsome,” you say, pressing your lips to his again, “so how was it? Did Mike cry when Vecna came back?”

Eddie barks out a laugh, rubbing his hands together, “think I might’ve seen a single tear fall, but they defeated him— crit hit by Sinclair’s sister.”

“Really? That’s.. impressive!”

“It was… shit, I’ve never been more proud of those little assholes.” His smile fades and you know he’ll miss being DM for them next year.

“Eddie?” A small voice asks from the living room.

Your brow quirks in question and he looks at you voice whispering low, “Chrissy Cunningham wants to buy ketamine.”

“What?!” you whisper back face struck in shock, “seriously?!”

Eddie nods, eyes wide in almost disbelief himself, “wanted a half ounce at first, but then said she needed something stronger.”

Your face pulls concern, honestly astonished that someone who seemed so prim and proper would want something like that. Eddie didn’t sell k normally you’ve been with him on multiple occasions and the only thing that was consistent with your peers of Hawkins High was weed.

“Do you even have it?”

“Dunno” he shrugs, lips in a frown, “told her I did because it’s an easy thirty bucks, but I could just crush up some tic-tacs… she wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Eddie? Did you find it?” Chrissy calls out in a nervous pitch.

“I can talk to her while you find something?”

“That’d be great,” he kissed you once more, lips buzzing, “two minutes!” He practically skips to his bedroom and shoots you a wink. Leaving you in a flight of butterflies lining your stomach. Helplessly in love.

—

Inhaling the hot cooked meal that didn’t taste like warmed up roadkill, Eddie sat in silence in a clean pair of clothes that weren’t his, listening to Wayne talk about what he’d been up to since they had last seen each other.

He burned with questions, needing, wanting, aching to know but the only thing he could blurt out came choked and almost suffocating on the use of his vocal cords.

“I need to see her.”

Wayne simply slurped his iced tea, setting the glass down heavy on the oak table, ice shifting. “Figured you would… want me to drive ya?”

Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head, “I need to go alone.”

With instructions from Wayne on the less traveled roads back to town, Eddie’s van sputtered to life in a cloud of backfiring smoke. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the passenger seat, he knew what would be there, and what wouldn’t.

Nothing was the same. Not anymore.

—

The boat floor was cramped, quite literally packed like sardines in a can, you were somehow lulled to sleep by the sway of Lover’s Lake waters and the even breathing of Eddie’s chest.

Your head tucked beneath his chin, he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could without crushing your bones.

Rick’s offered little comfort for an empty stomach outside of a moldy fruit bowl, an expired beer and a singular can of spaghetti o’s. But you were both safe for now. And that’s what mattered.

The kids, Steve Harrington— of all people— and Robin promised food and any information they could find without seeming suspicious. He was gracious for their companionship, needing something to keep him busy while trying to hide his own slip to insanity from you.

Your tears were endless, soft and steady one minute and the next you were wrecked, in a choked fit clinging to him for dear life.

Eddie’s mind played on replay of your trembling screams when Chrissy’s bones snapped like twigs and her eyes vacuumed out of her skull. Vecna, a made up character that he had been obsessing over for the past couple months for DnD was real.

Killing teenagers for what? World domination? Eddie and yourself were the ones on the run, knowing all too well how a dead cheerleader in his trailer would look to any cop with half a brain.

He’d run forever if it meant not losing you and killing Vecna for good. Everything he had ever known, books of fantasy and creatures that he drew for campaigns, it was all real, and these kids have been fighting it for years now.

The sound of tires crunching on the driveway had his ears perked like a guard dog, followed by three slamming doors. Instructions were given, and he could only imagine that whoever it was was in Rick’s house and it was only a matter of time before they noticed the boat house just like Mayfield had.

The walkie talkie Dustin left was clutched in his hand, you were both fucked, and needed help— now.

—

The Roane Hill Cemetery was eerily foggy, dew coated the hot blades of grass from the sweltered heat. Wayne drew a map on what section you were in. Apparently the number of people lost in the “earthquake” were in the upper digits now, and they were running out of land to bury the deceased.

Those not recovered were given markers slotted into the ground with accompanied by silk ribbons to symbolize hope. They were nestled up under a thick tree line, complete with a wrought iron fence.

He bubbled out a laugh when he crossed by his own empty grave. The headstone was covered in graffiti of wishes to burn in hell. Typical. His death date marked as ‘March 27 1986’. But that wasn’t true.

Lots of people passed that day when hell itself opened a crimson quaking flood. but not him. Although he wished he had.

Pushing forward, he knew had to be close now. The air was thick in the foggy whiteness— blinding him. A high pitched croak screeched from the sky, and he stumbled backward, landing on his ass with a wet thud, a spattering of grass grown wild in tender dirt.

His chest cavity sunk in, gasping for breath but coming up empty. Each threatened choke chipped away at him as his fists tore at the soft ground.

His girl. His gem. Laid to rest.

—

The Winnebago rocked on uneven suspension as Steve winded down the Indiana highway back to Hawkins. It was eerily quiet. Even Robin was silent, planning her mission in her head? You couldn’t be sure.

Tightening the bandana around Eddie’s curls you ask him if it feels okay.

“Yeah, course.”

Days of running. Hours of growling stomachs, unable to keep down food— you prayed this plan of Nancy’s would work, that Max would be able to lure Vecna with her vulnerable mind, that Eddie could distract the bats long enough to have the others attack his paralysis ridden body—it had to work— right?

Eddie sits and pulls you onto his lap, adjusting the spear made by the same eleven year old girl who defeated his campaign a few nights before. Erica, you learned, was a warrior.

“Nervous?” you asked throwing an arm around his neck and whispering into his ear.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “little worried.”

You believed in the plan, in the younger kids, in Steve Nancy and Robin who had been fighting stuff like this from a different dimension for years. They were trustworthy and intelligent.

“It’s gonna work babe,” you encouraged, stroking his cheek, “we’ll clear your name, graduate, and then leave this hell hole, together.”

He looks at you with strained eyes, wetter than usual, “you and me?”

Staring back at him you press your lips to his in a gentle kiss, “forever.”

—

He laid there until the sky turned to ink. Speaking to you in his head, knowing in his deepest of hearts that you could hear him. Telling you how he had missed you, how your beautiful smile played like a film in his brain. How he loved you. and hours have told you sooner, more, every day.

He told you how he wished he was gone too. Would you like that? It could be so easy to do.

Tracing his fingers over the formal font of your engraved name. He smirked at the silly spelling of your middle name.

It was comforting.

Eddie hadn’t felt this sense of calm since the day you hadn’t come back to him in the mirror, and he thought whatever magic spell was broken until you reached for him one last time, promising to never leave.

But you did, and he was alone.

Standing upright, he let out a sleepy yawn, “can I come by tomorrow?” he asked, “would you be okay with that?” He smiled, and bent at the knee to press his lips into the stone above your name.

“Oh,” he remembered, fishing your ring from the breast pocket of his borrowed flannel shirt, “look what I found.”

He held it to your stone, “this belongs to you, baby, I want you to have it.”

Placing the small ring on the smooth base of your tombstone, he gets back up, knees clicking like he’s years older than he actually was.

“See you tomorrow, my sweet gem.”

—

The night air shifted on his drive home, blowing a chilling breeze from the north that whipped his hair around his ears. The van struggled on the drive home with each gust that blew against the metal frame.

“Think we’re in for a storm tonight.” Wayne said when Eddie breached the front steps, straightening his arm, “ol elbow’s actin’ up.”

“Kinda cold for September, right?”

“All of a sudden it dropped about thirty degrees, somethin’s a brewin’.”

Wayne had his truck keys wrapped around a finger, “I gotta go check on Miss Pam, her husband died in the uhh.. anyway, she’s not doing well and you remember how those damn lights always went out? I’ll be back after while.”

Eddie grew a smile, “should I wait up?”

Wayne stopped in his tracks, talking around a smirk hiding a laugh, “don’t get smart with me.”

They both share a glance and laugh softly, and Eddie still has a smile even after the rumble of Wayne’s pickup gets carried away in the wind.

He locked up, pulling the vinyl shades and unhooking the curtains, pitching the trailer into darkness right as the rain pelted the window panes.

Wayne must have made his bed when he was in the cemetery. A small radio was perched on a nightstand and after slipping into starched pajama pants, from the fancy dresser, Eddie fiddled with the knob until the faint guitar sounds filled the room.

Thunder grumbled in the distance, but what he heard next was repetitive, growing louder. Shit, maybe Wayne didn’t have a house key.

“Ya know,” he says, walking to through the kitchen to the front door, “you tel me not to wait up but then you bang on the door because you don’t have keys? C’mon!”

The door swings open with a final gust of wind. Mud sloshed on his feet, Rain splattered his face. But that was not a concern.

A beautiful face, covered in Earth. Eyes he hadn’t seen outside of a mirror in months. You wore the same thing he last saw you in, same tattered wear that his Hellfire shirt had, but it somehow looked soft.

“I promised you forever.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #ziggy writes #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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loveandmurders · 6 months ago

Note

Hey I love your writing I know your busy at the moment but do you think you could do something like Missing piece but with Sinclair Daughter!reader where reader got taken by csp or something and they come back with their adopted family.

Hello love! Thank you so much for this request <3 I had so much fun writing for this that I did a little series in which you are Bo's daughter and you got taken away by your mother and then by social care.

I really hope that you'll enjoy it! <3

THE SUN OF AMBROSE (Part I)

Warnings: ANGST and more ANGST, no proof reading, mute!reader, mentions of suicide, death and violence, quick mentions of domestic violence, difficult childhood, sadness, despair and anger

“Are you alright, hon? What are you thinking about?” your adoptive mother asked you.

You were sitting on the porch, looking into the distance. She sat next to you as you shrugged.

“Are you not cold?” she asked you again and you shook your head. She kissed the top of your head before getting up.

“Don’t stay here for too long, ok? You need to get some rest too” she hummed and you nodded. You waited for her to come back inside before laying down on the ground, looking at the sky.

You were silent now, almost completely mute.

You hadn’t always been like that though. When you were a young child, you were chatting around all the time. You were babbling to Lester about the nicest insects you saw or about what art project you started with Vincent. You were also happily asking questions to your dad about absolutely anything because you were certain that Bo had to know everything. You were telling all your little secrets to Vincent because you trusted him with them and your feelings. You were laughing around with your mother as she was cracking jokes for you. You were happy, you were solar. You were “the sun of Ambrose” as your uncles and father would call you.

The Sinclairs couldn’t imagine a day without you; your presence was making everything so much better. You were too young to realise what your family was doing with the tourists, but you knew it was bad because your parents didn't want you out of the house when people were coming in. And Vincent needed to authorise you into the basement before you could come down. Your father always told you he would explain everything to you when you were a big girl, and you accepted this answer because Bo never lied to you before. You were aware that everytime people were coming in, there were new sculptures in the House of Wax though.

But you were happy and loved; and when you are a child, it really all that matters. You couldn’t wait to be a grown up so you could help your dad with his business, but other than that, everything was perfect for you.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Things had changed so much. You didn’t live in Ambrose and you often wondered if the House of Wax was still doing good, if your family was still doing good. You wondered if they missed you like you missed them. A hole inside your chest was constantly making you feel sick, but you couldn't do anything about it. No one could do anything about it.

You missed the nickname of “the sun of Ambrose” quite a lot too. The little necklace around your neck, in the form of a sun, was there to give you some comfort.This jewel has been a gift from your parents when you were 7 years old. And you have never removed it since then.

And you wouldn’t now because it was the only thing left from your previous life. You weren’t even called a Sinclair anymore. It was as if everything had been a dream and you woke up pretty roughly when you were 9.

You didn’t truly remember everything that happened. You just knew that everything was going alright, you were safe in your family’s arms, you were loved, you were happy. And the next morning, your mother was gently waking you up.

She told you she needed you to come with her, that she had planned a secret birthday gift for your father and you were part of it. Didn’t your father call you “the best thing life ever gifted him” after all?

However, you needed to stay quiet, so no one would notice you were both leaving the house, so early on this Sunday morning. You obeyed your mother, no matter how hard it was for you to stay fully quiet, but you didn’t want to ruin the surprise for Bo. You were softly giggling behind your hand, innocent of what was truly happening. You left the house with your mother. She settled you in her car and drove away. You were getting curious as you were going away from Ambrose. You used to leave Ambrose only to go to Lester’s place or to go look for road kills with your uncle, but you never went so far away. Your mother wasn’t answering your questions either. You started to get upset with her and you wanted to come back home. It wasn’t fun anymore.

At some point, she stopped in front of a big building and asked you to stay there. You obeyed again because you used to trust the adults in your life, fidgeting with your fingers and the rime of your cute little dress. You saw your mother entering the building and you felt uneasy. You weren’t too sure what kind of gift it was, but you wanted to come home very quickly. You hoped your mother let at least know Vincent or Lester where you were. A little voice inside your head told you that they couldn’t know, otherwise you wouldn’t be there. But you left the house very easily, so they had to know, right? Or maybe Vincent and Bo were too exhausted from the hunt of the day before, and Lester wasn’t home, to notice you were gone with your mother.

You jumped when you heard a gunshot and screams coming from inside the building. You knew those sounds quite well, but it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like usual. You weren’t at home, you weren’t safe. You looked for your mother’s phone but you didn’t find it. You started to worry so you got out of the car and started to look around. You didn’t know what to do. Fear took possession of you when people you didn’t know ran to you. You were so terrified you didn’t fly away. You wouldn’t have been able to go far anyway, not under the burning sun, not with your cute little shoes and cute little dress. You silently prayed for your father to come get you soon.

You didn’t remember much of this moment, all happened in a quick blurr. You just remembered how terrifying it was that there were so many people checking on you and asking you questions. You told them you wanted your dad and your mom and you started to cry. No one listened to you and your dad never came to get you.

It was the last time you ever used your voice, after that, you grew mute. You cried even more when they took you away from the car and brought you inside the building. You were in an unfamiliar world, full of people who had no love for you. You were alone and powerless in the middle of adults who weren’t always nice to you. You were living your worst nightmare, without any hope to wake up anytime soon.

You spent days, weeks, months being asked questions about yourself, your family and where you came from. From those interrogations, you understood quite a few things:

No one knew anything about you, not even that you existed. You were like a ghost. Y/N Sinclair wasn’t registered anywhere. Actually, officially, there were no more Sinclair in the region. They disappeared like Ambrose disappeared from the maps. But why would the world need to know about you, when Ambrose was already your world?

Your mother went into the social care centre, told them she brought with her her child who was in danger, because your father was a killer. She told them the Sinclairs were abusive and violent people. Then she killed herself with a gun she stole from Bo. You didn’t know if it was true that the Sinclairs were abusive to her, because you never saw them hurting her. Maybe they hid this dark side of them from you because you were their heir. You didn’t believe your father was a killer though, how could he be when he loved you so much?

Your father always told you to keep Ambrose a secret, no matter what. He knew you would go to college or to university at some point - even if he wasn’t too happy with the idea - so he needed to make sure you wouldn’t say anything. It was the only promise you ever made to him, so when people started to ask you questions, you knew you had to stay silent or you would put your family in danger. And you didn’t want anything to happen to your father and uncles, otherwise how could they come get you and save you from this hell?

You had never cried so much in your life before, and now it was the only thing making people stop asking you questions. They did physical tests to make sure your mutism was psychological, which it was. They truly believed you were so shocked by what happened in your life, that you couldn’t talk anymore. However, the fact you already knew ASL - thanks to Vincent - made them wonder. The fact you refused to say anything about the Sinclairs too. You were a mystery no one seemed able to solve, a mystery that didn’t want to be solved actually.

You were relieved when you realised that even the police couldn’t find Ambrose, and hence your family. You didn’t understand when the police told you you had been sequestrated by your father. Yes, you used to be homeschooled, but you were happy. And no one ever hurt you before. And your father always told you that the rest of the world was a threat and dangerous for you. You believed him and now you could see how right he was.

You didn’t even cry for your mother’s death, because she betrayed you, your father and the family. And your father told you that family was everything and that you were everything to him. You were proud to be his daughter, his heir, his legacy.

Now, you were nothing.

You didn’t know if the Sinclairs knew what happened. But after several months, you guessed they had no idea where you were or they would have already got you back home. You would never know how Bo reacted when he saw his daughter gone, how he broke everything in Ambrose out of pure pain, how Vincent grew even more merciless to tourists, how Lester never asked himself anymore if it was alright to kill people. Killers without their sun only grew even more destructive.

Bo never stopped bringing gifts for you in your bedroom; a bedroom he never touched since your departure. Everything was like you left it, because he was still hoping all of this was a nightmare. Or maybe he was dead and this was hell and his personal punishment. If only he was truly dead, he thought more than once.

At some point, people stopped asking you questions, but you stayed silent, as if something died inside of you, or at least stayed in Ambrose. Talking was betraying your family, and you couldn’t be a traitor like your mother.

Life has been happy and easy. Now things were different.

You moved from place to place, from family to family. You were lucky enough to never be abused, but there was no joy and no laughter in your life anymore. Life was rough and children growing up around you, even rougher. The worst were the adults of course, because they thought they knew everything about you when they knew nothing. They thought you were a traumatised little girl, they thought you were a lost darling whose mother found social care before killing herself in front of everyone. They thought you were broken.

Two years later, you finally got adopted.

Everyone said you were so lucky to get adopted away so quickly and that you should be grateful that a couple decided to take you with them. You weren’t sure you were happy about it or not.

You couldn’t stop thinking about your real parents.

You never stopped wondering why your mother did what she did. If she wanted to kill herself, she could have done it without bringing you down with her. She might have believed she was saving you from hell. But “hell” was your home, and the only place you wanted to be. Hell was soft to you.

You wondered if your father found a new wife and got a new baby. You knew how important it was for him and your uncle Vincent to have an “heir”. Now you were gone, so they needed to replace you. You couldn’t replace them.

What if they never looked for you and that was why you never saw them again? What if you weren’t that important to them? What if the police found them? What if they got killed because of some tourists?

Those questions were driving you crazy at night and there was nothing you could do about them.

Your adoptive family was good to you though.

Not good like the Sinclairs used to be, of course, but they tried their best with you. They made sure you were doing good at school and that no one bullied you because of your past, or because you were mute. They learnt ASL for you.

But they didn’t call you their sun and they didn’t talk about legacy. They didn’t praise you everyday, they didn’t have a limitless amount of patience with you, they didn’t allow you to be fully yourself.

They even forced you to stay calm.

Sometimes, you could get angry, mad, or violent. Bo would have allowed you to get crazy so you would feel better. But in a normal world, you had to see a doctor and to take meds. But you didn’t want that, you didn’t want to believe you were simply so truly broken, you needed meds to be normal. You didn’t even want to be normal. And more than anything, you were tired of people talking about you in front of you without addressing you, you were tired of the other children whispering in your back, you were tired of people telling you what to do.

You were tired of being a prey when your father promised you you would be a huntress. You kept the anger for you and you let it burn you from the inside. You tried to play the role of the perfect and cute little angel so your parents would stop bringing you to the doctors and they would stop making sure you take your meds.

It worked. Of course, it worked, because you were a smart and dangerous girl.

You were a Sinclair. And you would forever be one.

However, one day, the anger got too strong.

PART II

Taglist: @murder-hobo - @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21

#house of wax 2005 #house of wax x reader #house of wax x daughter #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x daughter #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x niece #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair x niece #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x daughter #slasher x niece

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year ago

Text

darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 5: Forgotten

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. Your family gains new additions.

Hello! My sincere apologies for how long this took. I got massively sidetracked by researching how to bind a book, the interest in which hit at a completely inappropriate time in the writing-editing-crafting cycle, lol. I should definitely be focusing on finishing this thing before I start fixating on binding books. Anyway; this chapter is a little time-jumpy, given that I have to speed through a bunch of time. Also, note that I've fudged with the ages of Alicent's kids, so in Episode 3, know that she is now pregnant with Aemond, not Helaena like in the show. It's the only way to make him of-age in the Episode 8 scenes. Happy (and well-deserved) holidays to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs, who I have graciously given a night off of slaving away for me, lol.

TRIGGERS: continued discussion of child grief, Viserys's shenanigans in impregnating an underaged Alicent (canon, this is NOT MY ADDITION).

When Alicent gets married to Papa, they have a big ceremony. So so many people come from all over the kingdom to see Papa take a new queen, and the days of the wedding—there are lots of days to them starting in marriage—are full of more noise and colour and movement than you could ever think was real.

Her dress is very pretty, and Papa looks very nice in his new coat, but neither of them look so happy as people who are going to be in marriage should be. Papa keeps playing with the ring on his finger that is from Mama, while Alicent just looks like she is afraid. You think it might be because of how loud everyone is being.

’Nyra isn’t happy, either. She keeps you on her lap the entire time with an angry look and doesn’t speak to Alicent very much at all, but at least she tries to be kind when she does. She ignores Papa, and because you are all sitting at the high table and everyone is watching you, he cannot tell her she is being rude and naughty.

Because you don’t want to look at Alicent’s unhappy face or ’Nyra’s angry one, you play with your sister’s necklace, letting the shiny metal take all your attention. It is Valyrian steel, which is what Papa’s and Uncle’s swords are made out of, so it is very special. Uncle gave it to her. When you let your fingers swirl over the ruby in the middle of the big pendant over and over, you pretend that it’s a part of him and that he’s here, after all.

After the big ceremony is done, life goes back to almost-normal. Now that Alicent is Papa’s queen, she is something called a stepmother, meaning that Brella and Septa and all the people who are made to look after you and ’Nyra have to talk to her about you both. She is like your mama. You wake up and break your fast with Alicent, and she cuts up your food instead of Mama, and she takes you outside to play and tells you about the names of the flowers. Then, when it is time to sleep again, she reads you a story. You think that she likes it very much because she always seems sad until she sees you, and then her face goes bright like the sun.

‘Nyra doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like it at all. When she learns that Alicent is acting like your mama, she goes very red like she’s going to scream, but she just goes very quiet instead and storms out of your rooms. For that whole day, ’Nyra takes you to the gardens and to see Syrax and to the library to learn some more High Valyrian, her new sworn shield Ser Criston behind her all the time. She never once lets you go see Alicent to do the things you normally do. When you finally get to be in the room with her at suppertime with Papa and ’Nyra, which Papa has said you all must do now so that everyone can get along, all she does is give you a small smile that doesn’t make her eyes go bright like usual and ask about your big day with your sister.

That is how things are for a while. Either you will go through your days with Alicent or with ’Nyra, and never both in one day because ’Nyra is still so angry at Alicent for being in marriage with Papa. You keep asking why, but your sister doesn’t tell you anything. She just goes quiet and frowns and mutters things you cannot hear. Meanwhile, Alicent will always stop, take a big breath that sounds shaky when she lets it out, and say, “I have no quarrel with Rhaenyra. She is as welcome to my rooms and in my company as you are, princess.”

You think that might be a lie.

One day, though, everything changes.

’Nyra decides to take you to the library so that you can look at more books in High Valyrian. Even the books written in the Common Tongue make no sense to you yet, and Brella told you this is because you are not old enough to learn reading properly. Still, your sister says that it is still good to try when you’re young, so she sits beside you and points out all the funny-looking symbols and tells you what they mean all together. You fall asleep in there instead of having a nap in your bed, but ’Nyra just puts a blanket over you and keeps reading. When you wake, you listen to her voice as she speaks the words from the pages aloud. You don’t understand all of it, but you think you’ve learned more and more since Mama died and she stopped being friends with Alicent. It means she has lots of time for you. Maybe that shouldn’t make you happy, but you cannot help it.

At supper, you see Lord Hightower, Alicent’s papa, beside her. That means that you have to be next to ’Nyra tonight, so you follow her to her side of the table and sit in the chair that the maid pulls out for you. The chair is higher than the others, made special so that you can reach the food that is put before you. Looking around, it is easy to tell that something is different from how happy Lord Hightower looks and how smiling Papa’s face is.

“My two daughters,” he says a bit too loudly, cheeks bright red. His cup is in front of him, and the gold shines red from the drink inside. Wine, you think. It is for men and women, not little girls, and it makes the people who drink it act strange like Papa is now. He waves his hand in a ‘hello’ as he lifts his cup to his mouth and takes a sip. “Ah!”

’Nyra starts eating her food without a word. Everyone has plates with different foods on it, but you have a bowl in front of your seat. Because you are small, the cooks always give you pottage for your supper so that you can eat it with a spoon and no one has to cut things up for you. You don’t always like it—there are lots of lumps and you can never tell what taste is going to be in your mouth with each bite—but it is warm and makes your tummy nice and full.

The room is full of the sounds of chewing and clack-clacking when the knives and forks hit the plates. You pick up your spoon and scoop up some food. There are dark bits, which means the cooks have put meat in it. You scrunch your nose.

Papa coughs between bites. He is still smiling a lot. “It seems like an age since I saw you last!”

“We had supper with you yesterday evening,” ’Nyra says.

“Ah, yes!” He takes another drink of his wine. Maybe he shouldn’t, because he is blinking very much like you do when you’re trying to stay awake. “Perhaps the waiting has made it seem longer.”

“Waiting?”

“I am sure you have noticed Otto’s presence by now.”

’Nyra doesn’t even look at the man. “My lord.” Her voice seems cold.

“Princess.” Lord Hightower bends his head, but he doesn’t sound very happy either.

Alicent puts her hand on Papa’s arm. ’Nyra watches so closely that you wonder if her eyes can make holes in other people’s skin. “I—we—have some news, Rhaenyra.”

“Oh?” She sounds bored.

“Well…”

When Alicent doesn’t say anything, ’Nyra makes a huffing noise. It is very rude.

“Well?” she asks, looking between Alicent and Papa. “What is it, then? Everyone’s acting rather strange.”

“Alicent is with child,” Papa says.

‘With child’ is what people say when a baby is growing in a lady’s belly. It’s what Mama told you before Baelon grew very large inside her.

’Nyra freezes, almost like she has forgotten how to move. No one says anything. Papa’s smile—the one that his words made so much bigger when he said them out loud—begins to fall, more and more with each moment that ’Nyra does nothing at all. Then, it goes away completely, and he’s no longer happy like he was.

It’s quiet again. Not the nice kind—the kind that means that someone is about to yell or be naughty.

“A baby?” you ask. Maybe you can stop the bad from happening if you help everyone remember that you’re still here.

Alicent looks at you, the fear leaving her face a little. She nods. “Yes, princess. You’re to have a brother or sis—”

“Half-brother.” ’Nyra’s lips move, but the rest of her stays still. She cannot stop staring between Papa and Alicent. “Or half-sister. Either way, they will not be your full blood.”

“You are correct, princess.” From the way Lord Hightower speaks and how silent Alicent and Papa are at ’Nyra’s words, you think she must have said something quite mean. He gives her a little smile, one that makes her hands squeeze really tight on her knife and fork. “Even so, these are glad tidings, indeed. Let us all pray for the queen to be delivered of a son.”

“I’m sure that would be of great benefit to the Hightowers, my lord. A son… to solidify your claim to my father’s throne.”

Lord Hightower stops smiling. Alicent gasps.

Papa makes a small noise. “Rhaenyra—”

All at once, she stands, the plate in front of her clattering loudly with how quick she rises. “Congratulations, Your Grace.” She doesn’t sound very happy for Alicent, even if the words are nice. “Forgive me—I feel suddenly unwell.”

“Daughter—”

’Nyra ignores Papa and storms out of the room, leaving her food only half-eaten. The rest of supper is very quiet, the loudest noise of all being the sound of your own breathing.

Isn’t a baby meant to be happy news? you wonder. You look around, but no one here is very happy—except for Lord Hightower. Though he isn’t smiling, he has his head held high like he has had every one of his wishes granted all at once.

“What do you think, princess?” Brella asks.

You stare down into the cradle at the baby. Your brother. Aegon. He is squirming, face bright red, squished and crying. He hasn’t stopped even once since you came into the room. He might have been crying since before you did, even. Aside from the bright hair on top of his head, you don’t think he looks very much like you.

“He’s nice,” is what you say, but you don’t know if you really mean it. It’s more for Alicent, who is watching you from over on the bed. She looks very tired. If you said something less kind, she may cry.

Alicent smiles. “Thank you, princess. Nurse—bring him to me, please.”

She doesn’t mean Brella. There is another woman here, Gwenys, who Lord Hightower and Septa Marlow assigned to help give Aegon milk and take care of him when Alicent cannot. Gwenys comes and picks up the baby, walking over to give him to Alicent. She rocks him in her arms which doesn’t stop him from crying, but she still keeps on bouncing him softly. He is very unhappy.

Now that Alicent is holding Aegon, you know that she’ll forget you are there. Ever since Papa told you and ’Nyra that he was in Alicent’s belly, neither of them have had much time for you. It feels like all the people in the keep—from Papa and Alicent and Lord Hightower to the servants and maids and stableboys—have been more excited for the baby than they ever were for you. The only person who has remembered you is ’Nyra, and so you are with her on most days. It sometimes makes you sad, because it really was very fun to play pretend that Alicent was your mama for a while, but ’Nyra says that it wasn’t going to last, anyway.

“She is to have her own child to care for, now,” she told you in the days after learning about the new baby. “You were good practice—but you aren’t her blood, not really. Not like you and I. Her son will be born, and you’ll be given to a nurse or a septa to raise.” When you cried, she bent down and wiped away your tears. “It doesn’t make her a bad person,” she said quietly. “But this is the way of the world, sister. Men and women, kings and queens… they all want sons. Us daughters must stick together, yes?”

’Nyra was right. At first, Alicent tried to keep pretending to be like your mama. But then, the baby made her very ill, so she stopped asking you to come to break your fast so you wouldn’t have to see her being sick into the pail by her bed. Then, she spent so much time sleeping that she didn’t have the energy to come outside with you, or to dance with you, and soon, the only time you would see her was at suppertime. Even that wasn’t always. And now the baby is here, you don’t think she will be going back to the way it used to be.

Maybe that is why he feels like such a stranger to you. At least with baby Baelon, you got to feel him kicking in Mama’s tummy. Aegon wasn’t here for so long, and then all of a sudden, he was. He is. You don’t know him at all. He’s just a baby, come to take your papa and almost-mama away from you like all the rest.

Brella’s hand on your shoulder is what helps you walk towards the door, Alicent and Aegon staying in the room behind you. With your back turned, it’s easier to pretend that Alicent is very sad by you leaving.

The more moons pass, the more faded Mama’s face is in your memory. You try to hold onto the way her eyes would crinkle at the corners when she smiled, or how her hair would curl a bit like yours after her bath, or the way she’d smell like roses when she hugged you tight. It slips away, out of reach. Putting rose oil in your bath helps you, but only a little bit—and the longer that Mama is gone, the less you can remember of her.

Papa doesn’t like to talk about her. When you ask him, he just spins the ring on his finger around and says, “Another time, perhaps.” You know that ‘another time’ really means ‘never’.

There is no one else in the keep that really knew her like you and your family knew her, except ’Nyra. She tells you stories sometimes, but you don’t ask a lot because she usually likes to tell the ones that have you in them. When she finishes, she always smiles and asks, “Do you remember?” You never can, and it leaves you feeling like someone has scooped out all your insides.

So, Mama fades, and becomes part of that place in your mind where the things that are being forgotten go. Even though you try and try and try, there is nothing that can stop the forgetting. One day, you think she might be nothing more than a quiet sort of sadness, like looking out the window at the rain and wondering why it makes your chest hurt so much.

Seeing Alicent with Aegon is the only thing that reminds you of her. Even though Alicent’s hair is red where Mama’s was silver, and Aegon is loud and angry where you are quiet and shy, the way that she kisses his cheeks or hums little songs under her breath to him makes you think of how Mama would do the same for you. He doesn’t seem to be very happy when she does these things. If it were you in his place, you know you’d be better than him. You wish she’d realise that.

It seems like no time at all goes by when Alicent is with child again, meaning she’s going to have another baby. If it is anything like Aegon, you do not think you’ll like it very much. Sometimes, you feel very naughty for it, but you cannot help how he makes you feel. All he wants to do is make a fuss and take everyone’s attention, and he keeps crying and being naughty even as Alicent’s belly grows bigger and bigger with your new brother or sister.

When Helaena is born, Papa and Lord Hightower aren’t as pleased as they were with Aegon. You can tell because, while they are both in the room when you come to meet her, neither one is looking at her as she lays in the cradle. They had both been looking down at Aegon last time. You think it is because Helaena is a girl, like you and ’Nyra. You decide that you have to love her if they won’t.

She is a quiet baby, but so still that it makes Gwenys worry and worry, even though all she is doing is lying in her cradle and staring straight up. Maybe she knows how rude her big brother is, you think, and she wants to do and be all the things he isn’t.

You weren’t allowed to hold Aegon because he was so disagreeable, which means he would probably have screamed and cried if you did. He still screams and cries, which is why Alicent has to spend all her days with him even though she’s just had a second baby, so Helaena is by herself with Gwenys most hours.

Helaena isn’t like Aegon. This time, Gwenys has you sit in a chair with a pillow under your arm and brings the baby to you. “Mind her head,” she says, tugging your arm forward so that Helaena fits nicely in your arms. “There we go.”

She is a big baby, round and heavy and warm, but you don’t mind because she gazes up at you with large blue eyes that look like they might turn purple when she gets older. The hairs she has on her head—and there aren’t many, not like Aegon had—are silver, and you know that she will look very much like you when she has grown more. When you stroke a finger over the skin on her hand, her whole fist grabs onto it, strong even though she is so young. It’s like she knows who you are, even without any words being said.

You wonder if this is how ’Nyra felt when she met you—a burning that tingles all through your arms and legs, not in a way that hurts, no, but in a way that makes you want to squeeze tight and never let go.

Helaena doesn’t cry. She falls asleep while you’re holding her, her face turned into you so that you can feel her tiny breaths through your dress. It is special and warm and love-feeling like Alicent used to be, like Mama was when she was not-dead. The hurt goes far away, still there but not so much, not so heavy in your chest.

For a little while, the sadness—of forgetting Mama, of being forgotten by so many others—fades away, too.

When you are five summers old, you have to say goodbye to Brella.

All the while you are breaking your fast, she looks like she is about to start crying. Even though you wonder why, you don’t ask. When someone cries, it means that something bad has happened. So much bad has already happened, and you don’t know if you want to hear any more. You eat in quiet, scooping porridge into your mouth while the sound of sniffles fills the room. The taste of honey would make you feel happy, but not when Brella is so upset. Your food sinks to the bottom of your belly like one of the hot bricks you sometimes get under your blankets when it’s very cold at night, only there’s nothing nice about it. It’s hard and rough and makes you feel sick.

After you have finished every bite—you have to eat all of it, or you don’t get to play—Brella takes you by the hand and leads you to the chair. “There is… there is something I have to tell you,” she says, slow and shaky.

I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. You wish that you were like ’Nyra, that you could say the words out loud—but you cannot. You don’t want to know, but you say nothing, and you wait for whatever bad thing is coming to show itself.

“I…” Brella swallows and looks down at your hands, still holding onto each other even though you are sitting and there is no need. “Tell me again how old you are, princess.”

“Five.” It’s a very small number, but you are still proud because you’re almost a big girl now.

Brella laughs, nodding. “That’s right. Five. My goodness. How time flies!”

You find that silly. Time doesn’t fly. It isn’t a thing-you-can-touch, and only things-you-can-touch can fly, like dragons or birds or insects. Still, you try not to show your thinking on your face as Brella squeezes your hand tighter.

“Being five summers old is a very important milestone when you’re a prince or princess,” she says. “Do you know why?”

“No,” you say. “Why?”

Here, she stops. “It… It means—gods, I don’t know if I can say it.”

“Well, then. It appears that I must,” comes a voice from the door.

You turn. Septa Marlow stands with her hands joined in front of her, her mouth pinched into a line so small it is like it has disappeared from her face. Her grey wimple makes her skin look just as colourless. She steps forward, and the sound of her shoes touching the ground seems as loud as thunder.

“You are of an age to begin your lessons, princess. Thus, it is time for your nurse”—she looks at Brella and her lip curls, though you cannot tell if she’s happy or angry—“to depart, and for me to take over your care.”

The sick feeling gets worse, and you wonder if you might bring up all your food from how bad the pains are in your belly. “But—but Brella will still stay, though? For Aegon and Helaena?”

Septa Marlow huffs. “There is no need, silly child. Their nurse has already been appointed, and Gwenys will suffice for any future children borne by the queen. Brella is to collect her things and return to the Vale.”

Brella has taught you some of the places on the map that shows Papa’s kingdom. You live in King’s Landing, which is in the Crownlands, and it is at the bottom of the map. The Vale is where Mother—Mother, not Mama, Mama is for babies and I am not a baby anymore, you have to keep telling yourself—came from, that it is a bit up and to the side from the Crownlands. It isn’t that far in the drawings, but Brella says that maps show a smaller picture of what is really a very, very long distance.

If Brella has to return to the Vale, it means she will be very, very far away.

You think you might be frozen, like ice. You cannot say anything. All that you can think, over and over, is no, no, no, please, not Brella, no, no, no. The fire-burn of tears warms behind your eyes, but you know that you cannot let Septa see you cry. She’ll think you are weak.

Brella sniffles. “I can write to you,” she says, pulling you closer to her. “And, when you’re old enough, you can write to me. How about that?”

You nod, but her words don’t make you feel better. Paper isn’t the same as a person, not really. Even if she puts letters on paper and sends them to you, it won’t be like one of her hugs or the way she laughs when you miss a dance step or fall over in the grass. It won’t smell like her or look like her. It won’t make you feel safe like she does.

She will turn not-real like Mother. Only, maybe it is worse—because you’ll know that, somewhere a long way away from you, she will be real, but that you cannot have her anymore.

“I don’t want you to go,” is what you say, but it comes out like a whisper, not strong like you wanted it to.

“I know, my darling,” Brella says, hugging you tight so that you can feel her heart beating through her skin and yours. “I know, and I’m so sorry—”

“If you could unhand my charge, nurse.” Septa’s eyebrow is raised. “Although—now that it occurs to me—‘nurse’ is no longer the appropriate moniker, is it?”

Brella glares at her. “There’s no need to be so—”

“Your time here is at an end.” Even though she looks like she’s trying not to show her feelings, Septa lifts her chin in the air like ’Nyra used to when she would win at cyvasse against Alicent. “Say your goodbyes.”

“What—here? Now?” Brella’s mouth is open like she’s very surprised. “I’d thought the princess would be coming to see me off at the harb—”

“That is not a good idea. She is too… attached.” Septa says it like it is a curse. “A public display of histrionics does not a respectable princess make, no matter her juvenility.” You have no idea what most of these words mean, but the way they make Brella sink in her seat cannot be a good thing.

She tucks your hair behind your ears as she looks down at you, her eyes wet. “Be good,” she says, very soft so that Septa cannot hear them well. “Make sure you write to me, yes?”

She brushes her thumbs over your cheeks—out, in, out, in—the way she does when she really means ‘I love you’.

“Please stay,” you whisper, trying not to let your lower lip wobble like it wants to so badly. “Please don’t go.”

Brella hugs you again, her whole body shaking. Your face is smushed up against her shoulder, the smell of her herness filling your nose with so much warm. You wonder if, by clinging on tight, you can stop her from leaving. She cannot leave. She is what you have left now that Mam—Mother is gone, now that Papa has Alicent and ’Nyra has Papa and Uncle has his war somewhere away from you. She cannot leave. She cannot.

It feels like she has been holding on for forever and also for no time at all when she lets go, stands up, and walks away without a word. The door shuts.

She didn’t even say goodbye.

Is it worse or better, watching her go away? you wonder through the cold that settles in your body, in your arms and legs, the sharpness of it so much that you feel like shivering even though the sun is shining hot outside. You never saw Mother die. She was here, and then she wasn’t. But you have to watch Brella leave, knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it all the while.

“Dry your tears, girl. ‘Tis about time your coddling came to an end.” Septa pulls you by the shoulder off the chair. Her hand doesn’t feel warm like Brella’s does. Her stare—fixed on you—travels up and down, her mouth crinkling at the corner like she is thinking about something. “Why she was allowed to linger past your name day, I will never understand.”

You cannot think of anything to say, so you keep quiet. It doesn’t seem to make Septa like you any more than she did before, which you don’t think was very much. The tears keep falling, though you try and try to make them disappear.

“Now,” she says, clapping her hands sharply. The loudness of the noise makes you jump. Teardrops shake onto your dress. “We have a long day ahead of us. The queen has requested an update on your progress, so you will be learning no less than three hymns before the end of the sennight. I should like to provide her with”—she looks you up and down again, and this time it seems like she is thinking something unkind about you—“some indication that you will shape up to be a lady of high standing.”

‘I’m a princess, not a lady,’ you want to say. You don’t.

Septa begins striding away, then stops and turns around to face you. “I expect you to follow when I walk, and to acknowledge me when I speak by saying ‘Yes, Septa Marlow’.” She almost spits the words at you. “Understood?”

“Yes, Septa Marlow.” It doesn’t sound as strong or as clear as when she said it. You wish you could sound less afraid. Still, she seems to find it good enough. She says nothing afterward, just waits for you to trail along after her.

“Hmph.” She clicks her tongue. Staring down at you again, she adds, “And stand up straight.”

You do as you’re told.

Septa Marlow is as frightfully mean as you always feared.

One thing you learn quickly is that everything you do and say is wrong. When you laugh, it is too unbecoming; when you smile, you show too much teeth; when you walk, you are too hunched over; when you eat, you are too gluttonous. You’re a simpleton when you ask to play with your dolls, so they sit at the foot of your bed slowly being covered by dust; you’re graceless when you try to dance, so you practice after you have been put to bed to try and get better before each morning; you’re impertinent when you say what you’re thinking instead of keeping it to yourself, so you learn to let your thoughts stay inside your head. There is little that she doesn’t pick on and tell you that you need to change.

“Use full words, please!” she says whenever you forget to speak in the proper way that she expects. She always raps her willow switch on the table in front of you after that. Lucky for you, she has not yet used it to hurt you. “It is ‘does not’, not ‘doesn’t’. There is no need to employ such low-class mannerisms as a lady of your standing!”

“Yes, Septa Marlow.” There is no point trying to tell her that she’s wrong.

It isn’t all bad, though. Having Septa Marlow take over means that you are now expected to learn all sorts of things, and a lot of it is very interesting. New words, new houses, new hymns, new dances—you start to learn how to sew, how to put letters together to read them, how to count numbers and add and take them away to make different numbers. Septa says that there are so many things a noblewoman like you needs to be able to do by the time she is ready to be married, so that she can run her husband’s household and take care of him and her future children. That is a long time from now, but practice makes perfect.

The only time you are not with Septa is when you are with your family, like today.

Because Aegon has lived past being a baby—and Septa says that babies die a lot from the weather or from being sick or from being fed too much or too little or sometimes for no reason at all—Papa has announced that everyone must go on a hunt to celebrate his name day. You have to sit in the wheelhouse with he and Alicent and ’Nyra and Aegon and three other nurses, but not Helaena. She’s only a baby still, so she must stay in the keep with Gwenys.

It is not a very fun ride. Being in a wheelhouse with them all means putting ’Nyra very close to Alicent, whose belly has grown big with a baby again. Lots of people have lots to say about how many babies Alicent has had since she married Papa, and most of it is not very nice towards your mother. She could only have two girls, and it took her a long time to have you after ’Nyra.

Papa thinks there is another boy in Alicent’s belly. You hope not. Aegon is loud and rude. You think it might be worse if there were two of him instead of just one.

“… whole of our family off to celebration and adventure in the kingswood,” Papa is saying. You swing your legs back and forth, though you must stop each time you roll over a big bump in the road. You stay quiet, because Septa says a lady does not talk unless she is asked a question.

A very big bump in the road makes Alicent’s smile fall.

“Should you be travelling in such condition?” ’Nyra asks. She sounds worried, even though she is no longer friends with Alicent.

“The maester said that being out in nature would do me well,” is what Alicent says back.

Papa starts talking while he finishes giving Aegon a sip from his cup. You wonder if it’s wine. “Well, you will be with your own child sooner than late, and make me a proud grandsire.” He is smiling, perhaps at the thought of it.

‘No, I will not,’ the look on ’Nyra’s face seems to say. You cannot help but agree with her. Having babies seems like such a tiring thing to do.

“It’s not so bad.” Alicent has to speak louder to be heard over the rattling of the wheels and the hoofbeats of the horses. “The days are long, but Aegon came quickly and without fuss. Helaena, too.”

The nurse who is holding Aegon in her lap—Delia, you think her name is—waves a toy dragon in front of him. He smacks at it with his hands, frowning. You would never treat your toys like that.

“You should ride out with me today,” Papa says to ’Nyra. “Join in the chase, while you”—his eyes go to you—“sit about with your lady stepmother. Hm?”

“Okay, Papa,” you say quietly. Proper ladies do what their fathers tell them to.

’Nyra’s hand finds yours. “I’d rather not. The boars squeal like children when they’re being slaughtered.” From the way her fingers squeeze yours and her stare fixes on Aegon, you know she doesn’t mean you when she says that. “I find it discomfiting.”

“It’s a hunt, Rhaenyra.” Papa smiles. It is a careful sort of smile, not a happy one. Aegon’s yell distracts him for a moment, but he is quick to return to speaking to ’Nyra. “How would you like to participate?” he asks her.

“I’d be leaving my sister alone with the vultures of the realm,” ’Nyra says, “so I’m not sure why I must.”

Trying to understand what everyone means by what they say is very difficult—you aren’t sure if she’s saying that the ladies coming along are vultures, or if she’s trying to say Alicent is. You don’t even know what a vulture is, so you aren’t sure if it is a bad or good thing to be.

“Because you are my eldest daughter. The princess.” Papa looks like he is finding it harder and harder to stop himself from telling ’Nyra off. “And you have duties.”

“As I am ceaselessly reminded.” Your sister says it softly, but it is easy enough for you to hear from your place next to her.

Papa doesn’t, though. “I’m sorry?”

Instead of making up a lie or saying that she did not say anything at all, ’Nyra repeats herself louder. It is terribly rude, but you enjoy watching as you have always enjoyed watching her being brave against other people. “As I am ceaselessly reminded.”

“You wouldn’t need to be reminded if you ever attended to them.”

“No one’s here for me!”

Papa doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Neither does Alicent. They both just fall silent along with the nurses. Even Aegon stops making all his annoying noises, instead sitting so still that he could be sleeping if his eyes were not open.

You make sure to hold onto your sister’s hand even tighter. If there is anyone in the whole world who does know what to say, it is you. If only you were brave enough.

‘I understand, ’Nyra,’ you want to say. ‘No one’s here for me, either. No one’s ever here for me.’

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leoascendente · 10 months ago

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PAC/ Who's thinking about you? ✨️

Hi my loves! ❤️ Welcome to this new pac about the person who has you currently on their mind. As always, take only what resonates with you and leave what doesn't. Take a deep breath before choosing your pile and pick the one that calls you the most, hope you like it :)

My blog in Spanish here

Paid readings here

The pictures are taken from the blog of @simena, my absolute favorite blog, highly recommended<3

Pile 1/Pile 2/ Pile 3

Pile 1:

Who and why?:

(Cards: 3 of wands, 4 of cups rev, 8 of swords rev, death/ ace of pentacles, 7 of swords rev, 4 of pentacles, hermit rev)

I feel a friendship vibe from this pile, this is a person that you thought would be in your life for a really long time, you felt really happy and fulfilled by this person's side, everything seemed to be fie but something happened that you lost contact with eachother, for some I see you had to consciously pull them off your life because they were becoming a toxic influence. Even though you had future plans with this person, maybe a travel or something like that, you decided to leave them behind or the relationship ended before aything bad could happen to you. I feel this was a friendship of yours who was troublesome but you didn't realize of their true colors until it was late, I see here that you really loved and appreciate them deeply and their actions after the separation dissapointed you, like the kind of people that talks bad at your back so they look nicer to the eyes of others.

This person feared that you could find out some truths about them that they wanted to keep hidden, I'm also hearing 'copycat' energy so this person was trying to make theirs your ideas or projects, this person lacks originality and have to absorv it from others like a parasite, even if sounds bad. I really feel that the person who decided to cut off this relationship was you in order to protect yourself and your wellbeing, it might sound weird but it seems like everything was fine on the outside but there was a perceptible tension in the air that you were avoiding or not giving the proper importance to. They are thinking about you because you were a lighthouse for them, their life was better when you were on it and they know it.

Future actions:

(Cards: queen of wands rev, wheel of fortune rev, page of swords, queen of swords)

This person will try to enter your life again, expect a suddent text message or call from them, it has taken them a lot of effort to do it and I even see the have written you before but never sent the message. I take the queen of swords as an advice for you to act more strategicaly and, if you feel like responding the message or call, do it in a cold way because they are coming from a place of interest not love, and might even try to force an argument to prove you wrong. This person is projecting a lot of things over you because they feel small, even more if this separation between you two happened a long time ago, this person feels frustrated about the fact that you could move on and they don't, they might even be jealous of how your life is currently going and the blessings you are receiving. Things look to be moving against this person and they saw you as their lucky charm, now that they don't know how to get out of the circumstances they created, they are coming back into your life for you to save them. Be intelligent my dear, don't let them manipulate you because those are their intentions, play smart.

Pile 2

Who and why?:

(Cards: 7 of wands, hanged man, 3 of swords rev, 10 of pentacles/ knight of swords rev, 5 of wands, 5 of cups rev, empress rev)

Gosh, this person is intense as hell, the kind of person that always has their guard up because thinks that the whole world is against them, always on fight or flight mode. You had a fight or argument with this person that led to break the relationship, this person might be a pisces sun or moon, this person is really defensive and rarely take things lightly, it feels like living in survival mode, it could be a family member for what I'm feeling. For a little amount of you I see that this person could be a love interest that kept you moving back and forth but never commiting to you, they used you for their own interest and avoiding facing the truth of their behavior, this person, whoever it is, is really conflictive within themselves and with the world, they don't know how to keep and care the relationships in their life. If you resonate with the love interest option, this person might be dealing with someone that will treat them the same way they treated you, they are about to receive a heavy karmic lesson.

This person was a little jealous of you, and instead of being ispired by your energy they saw you as a threat even though it was never your intention to make them feel that way. I see that this person holds so much anger and rage within that they need to create any excuse to start an argument so they can release those emotions in a toxic way with people that don't really deserve it. You know that kind of people that get yelled at on their work by their boss and act submissive but when they arrive home they start yelling at everyone the way they wish they yelled at their boss? Well, that's the kind of vibe I'm getting from this person. They think of you from time to time but when you appear in their mind they try hard to pull you away from their thoughts, they have remorse and they know why, they are just avoiding reality and the consequences of their own actions.

Future actions:

(Cards: 4 of pentacles, tower rev, 10 of swords rev, 6 of cups)

This person really misses you, with two 10 cards in their spread I feel like they have solved some issues that were a trouble in your relationship when you were dealing with eachother, right now they feel more positive but they still have this melancholic energy when it comes to you because they know that they could end up things in a more positive light, . They are not going to approach you, their pride is too big for that but, they think about you pretty often and, when they do, they feel remorse and guilt, they know that you were a good influence for them and are aware that their behavior was a burden that caused all the disaster. Anyway, this person thinks that you made them really happy and miss those joyful moments, they know you are a good person and recognie all the good things you made for them, they might be even looking for you in other people because I keep hearing on repeat on my mind the song Glimpse of us (beautiful song but with a very toxic message, it's singed by joji, in case you want to check it)

Pile 3:

Who and why?:

(Cards: star rev, 7 of cups rev, page of wands, strenght rev/ justice, judgement, 4 of swords, page of swords)

This might be a love interest that ghosted you and, for what it seems, for no reason, but in fact they really had serious reasons to pull you away, it might not be ghosting per se but right now there's no contact between you two for any given reason, like things just got cold. This person had a lot of unsolved bussinesses in their life that they needed to be attended by the moment they met you, this person might look very outgoing and resolutive on the outside but there's a deep anxiety they are trying very hard to hide, they might even be using sports as an scape mechanism to stop thinking about everything that's currently on their table. There's a lot of attraction between both of you and this person feels it very intensely, you left a significative mark on them and they can't forget about you, and in fact, they don't want to forget you at all but now they don't feel enough for you, or at least, like they can't offer you what you deserve.

The why is a little more complex than what I expected, for some there could be legal matters involved that they had to solve, maybe this is some kind of forbidden relationship and this person was in the middle of a divorce, whatever it is, law is involved here, for those who don't, they are going through a serious karmic lesson. This person has you on high regard and wants to offer you something real and stable but they know that the circumstances weren't the right ones, they want to present themselves as the perfect match for you and, instead of being honest and tell you about what's going on in their life they decided to let things at pause waiting for the perfect moment to come back.

Future actions:

(Cards: 3 of swords rev, high priestess, hierophant, knight of cups)

This person is coming back into your life with their heart on their hands ready to give it to you, they see you as their counterpart and they regret deeply for not acting correctly with you. Now that their problems are solved they want to come back but they have this fear of you having the door closed for them, I see they have an apology and an explanation for you but they are scared that you might reject them for their behavior. They've been thinking a lot about you and you have probably thought a lot about them too, even have some psychic glimpses of this person like dreams or intuitive toughts. Expect soon a contact from this person, they won't take too long. There's a soulmate/ twin flame connection between you two, and even if this person don't know about this kind of connections they know that there's something special here and that your connection and chemistry is true.

#witchblr #leoascendente #tarot #divination witch #tarotblr #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot reading #pick a picture #tarot spread #tarotcommunity

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year ago

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Once in awhile, you can get one over on The Man. Finally, after all these years of toiling under his rule, doing his dirty work, begging for his praise, he has well and truly fucked up. And, it turns out, your entire life has been building up to the moment that you can milk him for all he's worth.

Have you ever seen a Dodge Caliber? They're getting sort of uncommon now, but when they were new, they were pretty hateful cars. Cheap, buzzy, surprisingly uneconomical, steering that felt like telling a funeral home operator how to sign a birthday card over the phone by long distance. And they fell apart all the time. Most cars get repaired, but these things got gleefully shovelled into the junkyard at the first chance the owners got.

Not all of them, though. This is a story about one very special Dodge Caliber. You see, my aunt needed a car. And my aunt is very nervous about owning a car. The skills of shitbox repair never made it into her genes, you see, possibly because she is not related to me by blood. So, in order to get that car, she went to the Dodge dealership, and she asked them: can you do a lifetime warranty, unlimited mileage, no questions asked, cover everything? And they said: for you, ma'am, we absolutely can charge you an obscene, eye-watering amount of money.

Once I found out about this, I was mad. And then I figured it out. You see, what my aunt did have was being insanely cheap. That's why she was a part of my degenerate family. She still is, even though my Uncle Larry exploded that one night at Arecibo. Unlimited mileage. There has never been a sweeter phrase uttered in the English language.

Now, whenever anyone we know needs to go for a long trip, we tell them: take the Caliber. Rack those miles up. Punish those stupid motherfuckers for writing such a terrible, open-ended contract. My aunt runs a taxi service consisting entirely of this vehicle, a fleet of drivers constantly rotating in and out, the thing rolling virtually 24/7. I love driving this car, because every single mile that ticks up on the odometer is more salty tears from the low-wattage pig who thought he was a big-time wheeler and dealer down at Old Time Country Dodge.

To their credit, they figured out the enormous error that they had made fairly quickly. When Aunt Hilda rolled in the thing, smoking and wheezing, for its sixth transmission replacement at eight-hundred-and-fifty-thousand kilometers, they offered to buy it from her and give her a brand new luxury SUV, just for being such a great customer. She laughed, and told them to get started overhauling the Caliber, and don't forget to take a look at the squeaking sound it started making in the back.

When things got real bad during the recession, they tried to go bankrupt, thinking that might get them out from having to maintain this economy car until the sun burns out. Ha! Death won't save you, my friend. My attorney Max picked that one up pro bono, despite hating warranty law, just for the pleasure of watching their attorney read the purchase contract. Her eyes got so big that they stuck that way. The paramedics had to use the jaws of life on her eyelids so she could blink again.

If you see me in the Caliber, make sure to honk. I probably won't stop to say hi, because we gotta keep this odometer rollin'. Rest assured, however, that I will honk back, maybe ten or fifteen times. Really get my money's worth out of that horn.

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athforskz · 9 months ago

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Locked In - Yang Jeongin

Masterlist

Pairing: Jeongin x reader (afab)

Non-idol au

wc: ~7.7k

semi-proofread

Warnings: fluff, angst, pet names (babe/baby, princess), smut, jealousy, alcohol/drinking, dub-con if you squint, dry humping, fingering, oral (m- receiving), stealthing, unprotected piv, Yandere!Jeongin, breeding, baby trapping, dacryphilia, choking, spit, anal thumbing.

I think that’s it, let me know if I missed any!

Read responsibly. You are responsible for the content you consume.

Enjoy lovelies!

It was already Friday again. Meaning yet another week in your not so exciting life had flown by. You had no plans for the weekend and no friends that were free to spend it with. You, in fact, were the last of your friends that was still single. Everyone else had either married off or were currently in a serious relationship. You couldn’t help but feel the existential dread that encompassed your mind.

What if I’m alone forever?

Yeah, sure you’re still young in the grand scheme of things, but you couldn’t shake the doubt that maybe something was wrong. Wrong with you. Your body shook at the thought.

Deciding to do push the mess of thoughts to the back of your mind, you fished around for your phone in the nest of blankets you had curled yourself in on your bed. Your fingers quickly tap through your home screen until finding the app you were looking for. Tinder.

“Am I really doing this…?” You muttered to yourself. Contemplating once again about your life decisions. All you wanted was someone to call your own. A person to spend quality time with. Possibly settle down and start a life filled with contentment and love. Was that too much to ask?

Against your better judgement you opened the app and set up your profile. You chose the best pictures of yourself to display. Also making sure to write in your bio what you were seeking in a partner, that you were serious about your expectations. You may have been desperate but not desperate enough to lower the bar. At least not yet.

Within a few hours of swiping mindlessly, you got a couple dozen matches. Most of them are not what you’re looking for. But there was one that stood out. His name was Jeongin. He could hold a conversation, even making you laugh a few times. Before you knew it hours had passed of you both talking back and forth on the dating app. He ended up asking for your number claiming he doesn’t get on Tinder much anymore but wanted to keep the conversation going with you. Things were going so well that you thought nothing of it and immediately sent him your contact information. A couple minutes later your phone dinged with a message notification that you could safely assume was your new interest.

Unknown: Hey, y/n! It’s Jeongin :)

You: Do I know you?

You teased him as you saved his contact to your phone.

Jeongin: I’m so sorry! Wrong number!

You: Just kidding lol it’s me, y/n!

Jeongin: You almost sent me into a panic you little minx

The little pet name had you turned onto your front with your legs propped up behind you and kicking freely. You two texted for a little while longer before calling it a night.

Little did you know, Jeongin stayed up half the night doing research on you. Digging up whatever he could find about your past and your present. He had never known someone so beautiful, so perfect. So you. He couldn’t help the burning obsession he was growing towards you. It was like a thirst that could not be quenched. He needed you. All of you. Jeongin had never felt this way about anybody before and he wasn’t about to let it go. Was this what euphoria felt like?

The next morning you had awoken to a bird pecking at your window. The tap-tap-tap sounds reverberate throughout your room. You got up from your bed stretching with a yawn before opening your curtains to find the little tweeting perpetrator. It flew off quickly upon it being caught, leaving you to stare at the newly arisen sun. Just then, your phone vibrated on the nightstand. Hm, 7:03am the clock read. You swiftly unlocked your phone and unplugged it from the charger to read the new message from Jeongin.

Jeongin: Good morning! Hope you slept well

You: Morning, Jeongin! I did actually. Did you get some good rest too?

Jeongin: You could say that. Hey, I uh.. I wanted to ask you something.

You: What’s up?

Jeongin: Do you want to go get coffee together? Like today? I know it’s short notice so if you can’t that’s totally fine!

You: I’d love to go with you :)

Jeongin’s heart flipped in his chest with a widening smile across his face. He can’t believe you agreed to go with him. Now was his time to shine! He had to look his best for you which would be easier said than done because he in fact did not get any sleep. How could he when all that was on his mind was you?

The both of you agreed to meet at a local cafe called LaVazza in an hour. At first, you weren’t expecting to be doing anything with your Saturday besides maybe catching up on some research for your job. However, that could wait until later. You had a date with a cute guy after all.

Wait… a date? Can I even call it that? Is that what this is?

Numerous thoughts began to fill your head as you got ready. Should you dress up or look casual? Go all out with your makeup? Should you put your hair up or leave it down? A cold splash of water would help you think more clearly. Finally, you decided on an off the shoulder cashmere sweater, leggings, and black booties with light makeup to complete the look. You brushed your hair choosing to leave it down since your shoulders were exposed. You did one last mirror check before grabbing the essentials and making your way out of the apartment.

The cafe wasn’t too far from your place so walking was your choice of transportation. Nothing like a brisk walk on a cool Saturday morning to calm your nerves.

Upon reaching LaVazza, the fresh smell of coffee hit your nose. You breathed in deeply while looking around for Jeongin. No sign of him yet. You had gotten there a few minutes early after all. Surely he’d be here in a bit. You walked over to a booth seated in the corner next to the window while you waited; checking your phone every so often to see if you had gotten any messages. Nothing.

At some point you had zoned out while looking over the menu to decide what to order. You snapped back to reality once you felt a presence looming next to you.

“This seat taken?” A warm voice asked.

You looked up to meet none other than Jeongin’s gaze. Your mouth slightly agape as you took in the sight of him. Of course you had seen his photos on tinder yesterday but he was down right handsome in the flesh. He took his seat in the booth directly across from you, folding his hands neatly in front of him on the table. He cleared his throat which brought you out of a daze. “I-I’m sorry. Um hi! It’s nice to finally meet you.” You blinked and extended your hand across the table while mentally scolding yourself for staring so shamelessly. He chuckled while taking your hand and bringing it up to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. Your face flushed in a deep blush. You had been going for a simple handshake but you weren’t going to complain about his greeting. Not when his lips felt so soft on your skin and his voice was like velvet. “Nice to meet you too,” he finally replied.

It seemed like Jeongin was playing it cool, but on the inside he was on fire. He felt his world stop when he first laid eyes on you sitting in the booth. He can’t believe just how gorgeous you are up close. Once you caught sight of him he saw your reaction, making a mental note of it for later.

“Did you order anything yet?” He asked you with a rise at the end of his voice. You shook your head in response looking down at the menu on the table. “I’m stuck between a lavender chai or the classic espresso. Maybe a chocolate croissant too. What are you getting?” You quipped. He pretended to think for a minute. “I always get the americano. It’s my go to.” Jeongin smiled at you. His smile was so bright, so cute, so entrancing. You couldn’t help but smile back, he was infectious.

After finalizing your decision on the lavender chai, you and Jeongin made your way over to the counter to order. You began reaching into your purse to pull out your card before Jeongin playfully scoffed. “Hey, I got it. Put that away.” You were confused at first, “I can at least pay for my own. You don’t have t-“ he interrupted. “Nuh uh, don’t worry about it. Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll bring our order over once it’s ready.” He said calmly before handing the barista his card. “But I insist!” You blurted out. He raised an eyebrow at you in amusement. Before you could embarrass yourself any further you walked back over to the corner booth, waiting patiently for Jeongin to return.

During your wait, you came to the final realization that yes, this was definitely a date.

Once the order arrived you two had begun opening up to each other. Telling each other about yourselves. Your upbringing, your jobs, friends, hobbies. Pretty much anything. The conversation was flowing nicely. Little did you know Jeongin had already known so much about you. He knew exactly what to say to keep you interested in him. To keep you engaged to him and only him.

Before either of you realized, two hours had passed by. The both of you reluctantly opted to call it a day. You had research to catch up on and Jeongin had errands to run.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said while holding the cafe door open for you.

“Oh, no need. I actually walked here. My place isn’t too far.”

“What? No way, I walked too! I can walk you home at least.” He offered. Jeongin lied. His car was parked around the corner but he would rather walk with you to spend more time with you. You hesitated for a bit, mulling it over. You just met this man today. Even though you both talked for hours he was still a stranger to you. Should you really let him know where you live? In conclusion, you did it anyway.

“Sure, why not?” You shrugged then proceeded to lead the way. He followed slightly behind you, acting as if he didn’t already know where you lived.

About halfway through the walk, Jeongin felt bold enough to touch your hand, wrapping his pinky finger around yours. You didn’t mind it, you thought it was sweet as he smiled down at you, listening to you speak about some story that happened at a recent friend’s get-together.

Another few minutes went by and y’all had reached the front door to your apartment. You turned on your heels to face Jeongin.

“Thank you for this morning. I had a lot of fun, Jeongin,” you admitted.

“I did too. Thanks for agreeing to meet me,” he replied. His eyes fluttered looking at your features, from your lips to your eyes.

Suddenly you felt warm, a blush creeping up from your neck to your cheeks. Was he going to-?

“Howdy, neighbor!” Your next door neighbor beamed happily as they slammed their door shut and locked it. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as you turned to wave at your neighbor. Jeongin cursed under his breath, becoming irrationally angry at your neighbor for the split second you weren’t paying attention to him. In the blink of an eye he was back to his calm and cheery self once you turned back to him.

“Let me know when you get home okay?” You requested of him before leaning up on your tippy toes and landing a peck on his cheek. All he could do was nod, his skin igniting at the touch of your lips. You unlocked your door bidding him a final goodbye as he walked off. He still felt the lingering connection of your lips on his cheek. Now he was locked in for sure. And unknowingly, that meant you were locked in too.

A few more weeks passed and the bond between Jeongin and you became stronger. He had invited you out on several more dates during that time. Some of them being more casual and others being romantic. You honestly couldn’t be happier. Nothing between you two was made mutually exclusive yet (or so you thought), but it was certainly heading that way.

Currently, you were on a FaceTime call with Jeongin while you were doing chores around your apartment. You had your phone propped up on the coffee table, facing away from it as you fluffed the pillows on the couch during your rambling about what happened at work the other day. Jeongin was barely listening. All he could focus on was the way your Nike pro shorts hugged the fat of your thighs along with the swell of your ass cheeks peeking through perfectly. Any time you’d bend over he’d take a screenshot without you ever noticing.

Thank goodness you could only see his face because he currently had his hand in his sweats to lazily palm his twitching cock. Every now and then he would let out a heavy sigh, but you chalked it up to him just being tired. “Innie, I can let you off if you want to go to sleep. I have to start getting ready anyway,” you had recently took to calling him by the nickname. Just then, his head shot up from the relaxed position it was in, hand retracing from his pants. “Get ready? Ready for what?” He completely ignored your comment about his tiredness. Jeongin was more concerned about your future whereabouts. He had become very good at keeping tabs on you whether you knew about it or not. But this time he had no indication that you planned on going somewhere. Somewhere without him.

“My friend invited me to a party tonight!” Party? You don’t party. Jeongin knows you don’t.

“I normally don’t like going to such things, but I haven’t hung out with my friends in a while, so why not, ya know?” You continued. His face dropped.

Why does she feel the need to go somewhere without me? He thought to himself.

His next words threw you for a loop, “Can I come?”

You were taken aback, “But you don’t know anyone that’ll be there.”

“I know you...” He raised an eyebrow waiting for your response. You seemed to be lost in thought. Is this a good idea, introducing him to your friends so soon? And without an official label no less.

“I don’t know, Innie. My friends will get the wrong idea about us and I don’t-“

“Wrong idea?” He interrupted.

“Like they’ll think we’re together.” You announced. You swear you saw his eye twitch.

“But we are together. At least I thought we were,” he retorted.

Now it was your turn to raise a brow. “We are? Since when?”

“Since we started going on a bunch of dates and hanging out. Not to mention all of the kissing. C’mon sweetheart, did you really think I was just playing around with you?”

He was right, you two had been spending a lot of time together. You’d see him at least every other day and talk to him on the phone on the days that you weren’t with him. Things had become a lot more serious between the both of you including the ever fervent makeout sessions. Neither of you had gone farther than kissing and lingering touches with each other, but the thought of going to the next level with Jeongin made your eyes glaze over. “Well..?” He chuckled waiting for your answer. You shook your head letting out a light laugh in the process as a blush covered your cheeks. “Okay, fine you can come with me since apparently you’re my boyfriend now.”

Boyfriend

Boyfriend.

The word leaving from your mouth to label him as such a thing sounded so sweet. But he wanted to be more to you. For you. He wanted to be all you ever needed. Wanted you to rely on him for absolutely everything. You didn’t need anyone else. All he wanted you to need was him.

A sly smile played on his lips as he at least took this as a good start. Perfect.

Well into the night you found yourself enthralled with the party, having a good time with everyone. You were glad to have agreed to come out and bring Jeongin with you. Your friends however, were not thrilled with your new boyfriend. You had introduced them to him earlier in the night but your friends could tell that something was off with him. You didn’t notice their uneasiness towards Jeongin at first, as you were busy throwing back shots and dancing. Normally, you didn’t drink but when you were out you drank heavily. A social drinker at its finest. Jeongin made sure to keep a close eye on you which wasn’t hard because when you weren’t drinking you were dancing with him. Grinding your ass into his pelvis as he kept a hand on your hips encouraging your movements. To you, it looked like he was enjoying himself. Nursing a red solo cup in his free hand with God knows what kind of alcohol in it. However, Jeongin was sure not to get too drunk so he could keep others away from you. He wanted all of your attention focused solely on him so your eyes wouldn’t wander. If he caught another guy looking at you he’d be sure to press a hot, lingering kiss to your neck as if to claim you for all to see. Right when you began leaning back into Jeongin’s chest one of your friends approached you.

“Y/n, can we talk for a sec?” She asked with a lilt to her voice. You gave her a silent nod before she started to pull you away from him by your wrist. Jeongin started to follow you to which your friend spoke up, “it’s girl talk only, you wouldn’t understand.” She gave him a sheepish smile then proceeded to lead you away, leaving him on the dance floor sipping his drink.

He didn’t like this. Not one bit. He doesn’t want anyone, not even your closest friends, taking you away from him. But, nonetheless, he allowed your friend to speak with you in private so he didn’t cause a scene. His eyes narrowed as he watched your form through the crowd of people making a mental note of where you were going just in case he needed to come get you.

Your friend pushed past a throng of people before slipping into a quiet room with you in tow. She closed the door prior to speaking.

“What are you doing?” She asked, turning slowly to meet your eyes.

“Um, having fun? Duh!” You couldn’t take her question seriously as you giggled.

“No, no not that! I mean like what are you doing with him?”

“You mean, Innie? I thought it’d be alright if he came with me. Was there like a super limited guest list I wasn’t informed about?” Your eyes widened at the realization.

Your friend rolled her eyes at you, “God, you really are drunk. There was not a guest list. I just want to know what in the hell you see in that man?”

“What are you talking about? Jeongin makes me happy and I-“

“He’s weird! I mean have you not seen the way he’s hoarding you to himself and giving death glares at anybody that even looks your direction?! That’s straight up toxic behavior!” She cut you off as her voice raised an octave. She wasn’t yelling but you still didn’t appreciate her tone.

“So everyone else gets to be happy with someone, but as soon as I get a boyfriend there’s a fucking problem? And you’re calling him toxic just because he’s a little protective? Do you even hear yourself right now?!” The alcohol was rushing in your veins making you a little bit more bold.

“Hey, you know that’s not what I meant. Just-“

“Save it!” It was your turn to interrupt her. You put your hand up in front of your face before shoulder checking her on the way out of the room.

You looked among the crowd to find Jeongin had moved to the back wall. You made your way over to him and he looked surprised, probably not expecting you to be back so soon.

“We should leave.” You said dryly while looking down at the floor, your arms crossed over your chest. Jeongin simply nodded and with that you both made your way out of the party.

Once in the car you sighed, the alcohol still buzzing through your body.

“You okay, baby? What happened in there?” He asked clearly concerned. He knew he shouldn’t have let you go off alone with her.

“Don’t worry about it, I.N. I’d rather not talk about it right now.” You trailed off while staring out the window. As much as he wanted to press you for answers, he didn’t pry any farther. He let you have your space for the time being. Jeongin only had one drink so he was fine to drive.

The way back was mostly silent besides the low hum of the radio in the background. Jeongin would occasionally rub or squeeze your thigh for reassurance which you appreciated. You just simply couldn’t get over the argument you had with your friend.

Is she crazy? Jealous?

There’s no way she could be. She was your best friend who got everything she wanted and she never had acted this way before.

But what about Jeongin made her so uneasy? What couldn’t you see?

You looked over at the man in the driver's seat, admiring his profile and the way he drove one-handed. He felt you staring at him so he turned his head to meet your gaze. He flashed a toothy smile which made you smile in return.

Soon he parked out front of your apartment, getting out of the car to come over to open your door for you. You gave him a small thanks before walking to your front door, him tailing behind you.

Once inside you kicked off your heels, sighing at the relief of your feet being flat on the floor. Jeongin closed and locked the door behind himself the proceeded to shuck off his jacket and step out of his shoes. He had been inside your apartment a handful of times now and became accustomed to it. Everything from the decorations to the furniture to the smell was so you. It was like being in heaven for him. He lifted his head to a familiar cork sound popping open followed by the clinking of glasses. You were in the kitchen, pouring wine for the both of you.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” He leaned over the island watching you pour.

“Just because we left the party doesn’t mean I want to lose my buzz.”

“I think you’re more than buzzed, babe.” He laughed as you waved him off. You handed him his glass then walked over to the living room, plopping down on the couch, Jeongin joining you. You kicked your legs over onto his lap as your dress rode up your thighs. He tucked your legs tightly into him as he drew random shapes with his fingertips just above your knees. You turned on your TV and flicked through various channels before finally settling on a random rom-com movie. Both of you offering commentary or laughing when appropriate.

You hadn’t noticed how much the wine had affected you until a rather spicy scene played during the movie. Getting an idea, you set the empty glass on the table before maneuvering to straddle Jeongin’s lap. You giggled while leaning in and trailing kisses down his sharp jawline.

“What are you planning, Princess?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shhh just relax,” you encouraged. With that he leaned his head back on the couch allowing you more access to his neck and jaw.

Jeongin absolutely loved the attention you gave him. Basking in it like his own reward for finding you.

You started to suck on the skin between his neck and shoulder, hoping to leave a mark. His hands wandered to your waist bringing you impossibly closer in his embrace. Jeongin groaned when you licked up from his throat to his lips and captured them in a kiss.

The kissing started off slow, innocent even before turning into a full on session of tongues and teeth. You bit his bottom lip gently pulling it to further tease him. His hands moved from their previous place on your waist down to the back of your thighs where the hem of your dress was caught. He pulled the dress further up until it was just under your abdomen leaving your black lace panties exposed. Jeongin then gripped your ass firmly, squeezing the flesh tightly in his hands. You disconnected from your heated makeout to let out a moan and grind your hips down on his growing bulge.

Jeongin hissed at the movement, but welcomed it nonetheless before catching your lips again and droving his tongue straight into your mouth to lick and suck at your own. Breathy moans continuously escaped your throat as you kept riding Jeongin over his pants. Your slick pooling through your panties and making a wet spot over the crotch of his jeans.

This was all so surreal. This was the first time either of you have taken it this far and it was definitely a welcome change to the typical makeout sessions you both shared. It made you want more of him. All of him.

Suddenly, you pulled away from the kiss and stopped your grinding to get off his lap. Jeongin looked breathless, dazed in the heat of the moment. His lips were swollen from all the kissing. You backed away making a ‘come here’ motion with your finger before turning and heading to your room. He grinned like the Cheshire cat and jumped up from the couch to follow you.

Even though, Jeongin had come over plenty of times by now this was his first time actually stepping foot into your room. Normally he’d look around to take in the sight of everything, but that was the last thing on his mind. There he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed with your legs crossed and that dreamy look in your eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous..” he said barely above a whisper as he made his way over to you. He wasted no time in locking your lips again while pushing you to lay back on the bed. He pulled your left thigh to spread your legs and make room for himself to lay between them. Jeongin rolled his hips to press his clothed cock over your aching center, swallowing the moan you let out in the process. He didn’t want to get too carried away, but God did he want you. All of you.

Against his better judgment he let his body lead. Jeongin’s hands trailing up your sides and over your chest to palm your breasts over your dress. You arched your back slightly loving the feeling. He could feel your nipples harden through the fabric due to the absence of a bra. You secretly thanked the heavens that you didn’t need to wear one with this particular dress.

Not being able to take it anymore, Jeongin ripped the dress off of your form and threw it somewhere in the room to be forgotten. He immediately latched his mouth onto your left nipple while rolling and pinching the right between his fingers before switching sides.

“M-more, Innie, please.” You squeaked through your euphoric haze.

“Hm? Is my baby turning insatiable for me?” Jeongin teased while looking up at you. All you could do was whine and nod your head. You were desperate to feel his touch everywhere.

He leaned up again, getting close to your face as you felt one of his hands slither its way into your panties.

“Are you gonna be good for me, hm?” He asked then pressed an open mouth kiss to your lips.

“Uh huh, promise to be good.”

With your confirmation he spread your wet folds with his ring and pointer fingers while using his middle finger to glide from your clit down to your entrance. Jeongin just barely pushed into your pussy up to his first knuckle before pulling out again. Leaving you to clench around nothing. A pathetic whimper from you gracing his ears. He hushed you with another kiss before rubbing your clit in different ways, trying to find what you liked the most. You can’t lie, all of it felt good, but once he started circling your nub you let out a higher pitched moan than the rest.

“Oh yeah, like that? That’s a good girl letting me know just how to please you.” He cooed, continuing his circling movements on your clit for a bit longer then switched from his middle finger to his thumb so he could freely plunge two fingers inside of you. He pumped them slowly at first letting you get used to his slender digits before becoming a little rougher. Your body reacted to every little move he was doing to you, sending you into overdrive. It just felt so good to have him please you like his life depended on it. You could cum just from this, but he wasn’t done yet. Far from it. He pushed a third finger into you, pressing each one deeper than before and curving them upwards to reach that spongey spot within your core. The rings at the base of two of his fingers adding to the pleasure. The room was filled with the most disgustingly wet shlucking sounds from your pussy and your greedy moans. Your walls began to flutter around his fingers and a band felt like it was going to snap in your abdomen signaling that you were close.

“F-fuck, gonna cum…!” You squealed while your back arched higher off the bed. Jeongin placed his had that was still kneading your breast onto your neck and squeezed on either side.

“C’mon gimme that orgasm, baby,” The delicious pressure of him choking you sent you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back into your head as your body writhed from the force of your first release of the night.

“Mm so pretty when you cum for me,”he praised. You panted heavily, while Jeongin pulled his fingers from you and watched as your juices dripped from his digits down to his wrist. He brought his fingers to his mouth sucking them clean, moaning at the sweet taste of you. Now that he’s had a taste of you there was no going back.

After a few moments you had gotten your breathing mostly under control. Jeongin was still busy licking your cum from his fingers before you had roughly pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him once again.

“Wanna make you feel good too, Innie.” You whispered trailing kisses down his neck to his collarbone. His breathing hitched in his throat when you bit down on the flesh there. He looked down at you as you raised his shirt over his head. You admired his body while running a hand over his abs. He was so toned, you had no idea. You continued kissing down his chest and abs while your hands worked at undoing his jeans. You dipped your tongue into his belly button which sent a chill down his spine. Once, you finally got the zipper down you tugged off his pants and boxers in one go. His hard cock springing free and slapping against his stomach.

It looked heavy. Innie was well above average with equal parts length and girth. It even had a slight curve to the left. The tip of his cock was the same color as his lips and profusely leaking pre-cum. His dick was slightly darker than his skin tone around the base. Even his pubic hair was trimmed showing off his pretty smooth balls. You couldn’t help but marvel at the site of all of him exposed in front you.

“Like what you see?” He smirked with his hands behind his head. He knew damn well that he was good looking. This man was the definition of perfection.

“I more than like what I see,” you winked at him. His cock twitched at the thought of what that might mean.

You took Jeongin’s hard dick into your hand, swiping your thumb over his slit to collect the precum that beaded there. He sucked in a harsh breath at your movements watching you with eyes blown wide. You proceeded to spit on the tip letting it drip down the sides while stroking his shaft to make his cock slick. Brushing your hair out of your face, you leaned down pressing kisses all along the sides of it then licked from base to tip, following the vein on the underside of his dick. He reached a hand down to thread through your hair gently while you slowly took him into your mouth. You focused on licking and sucking the tip first, your tongue swirling around it as you hollowed your cheeks. You began bobbing your head back and forth making the grip he had in your hair tighten slightly. He was letting out deep groans that spurred you on, his symphony of noises being your encouragement. Soon, you added your hand back onto his shaft pumping whatever part of his dick you couldn’t fit in your mouth yet.

“Oh s-shit that feels good, princess.” He stammered. You looked up at him through your eyelashes to see his eyes squeezed shut, adam’s apple bobbing as he breathed heavily. You took that as an opportunity to push his cock deeper into your mouth, pushing him down your throat as you gagged helplessly around him. Tears welling up at your lash line as you closed your eyes for a second to focus on breathing through your nose before opening them again. Jeongin propped himself up on his elbow to watch you take him all the way in your mouth as his jaw went slack.

“Are you crying, baby? Fuck that’s so hot, crying while you’re choking on my cock like that.” He bit his bottom lip. You swear you could feel his cock twitch in your throat once he saw tears cascading down your cheeks.

He gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail to keep you still before he started thrusting, face-fucking you. He thought the noises of you gagging and choking were so pretty, it only egged him on. You kept eye contact with him as he ravaged your throat mercilessly. Feeling drool dribbling from the corners of your mouth. More tears rolled down from your eyes. You moaned around his cock and the vibrations from that were all he needed to bust. He threw his head back with a long moan leaving his lips. Copious amounts of cum sliding easily down your throat. You swallowed all of it, not wanting to waste a single drop. You pulled your mouth off of his cock with an audible pop. Strings of saliva still connecting your mouth to his tip. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip collecting some of the drool before bringing it up to his own mouth licking it off.

You don’t know why, but you blushed at the gesture. Of all the things you’ve done so far, this is when you decide to get shy?

Before you could get too lost in thought, Jeongin stood up from the bed and gently pushed up down on it. You landed with a slight bounce watching as the man approached you, still hard dick in hand.

“Turn over baby, I want that ass up for me.” He stated with a demanding tone in his voice. His eyes were dark with nothing but lust. You scrambled to fully kick off your soaked panties before switching to your front and propping yourself up on all fours. The bed dipped behind you as he kneeled into position. Your brain might have been buzzing from the heat of the moment and the alcohol from earlier but you still remembered to be safe.

“Umm, Innie. Can you put on a condom please?” You breathed out shyly.

“I don’t have one sweetheart… I’m sorry. I promise I’m clean.” He wouldn’t wear one anyway. Not with you, not when you were going to be his for the rest of your lives anyway.

“I’m clean too, but I’m not on birth control.”

Perfect. He thought to himself. Easier to trap you.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll pull out.” He lied, no he wouldn’t.

“Wait, I think I have one.” You leaned down over the side of your bed and pulled out a box that was tucked away. You opened the box and pulled out a condom, handing it back to your boyfriend. He took it from you with a tight-lipped smile. Jeongin waited for you to turn back around before pretending to open the condom. You got back into position and swayed your ass in front of him. God, you were going to be the death of him. After fumbling with the wrapper a couple more times to make it believable, he tossed the unused condom back behind your desk in the corner of your room. He made a mental note to go over to properly dispose of it later.

Jeongin grabbed his cock swiping the tip through your dripping wet slit a few times, teasing it at your entrance. He tapped his heavy cock over your pussy before lining up.

“You ready, Princess?” He asked, grabbing your hip with his free hand.

“Yes, Innie, please fuck me” You whined desperately.

Jeongin pressed his cock into your aching cunt only going in about halfway before stopping to let you adjust. He hissed through his teeth as your walls were clenching impossibly tight around him. You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan at the delicious stretch of his cock.

“Ah-hah, fuck baby you gotta relax a little bit, I don’t want to hurt you.” The hand that was on his cock reached in front of you to rub your clit in those slow circles he knew you liked.

“Nnng- so big…” you panted. He wasn’t even bottomed out in you yet and he could already tell your mind had gone euphoric.

After a couple more circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves your cunt relaxed a bit allowing him to move again. He slammed the rest of the way into your core figuring you had enough time to adjust. Your body jolted forward at the sudden intrusion, a scream threatening to rip from your throat. Jeongin granted you a few moments before he rolled his hips against your ass making his thick cock grind deeply into your warm pussy. You let out a string of angelic moans as he picked up the pace full on pumping his cock into you at this point. Your ass jiggled every time your bodies fully connected. The raunchy sounds of pure sex resounding off your walls.

“You like taking this cock don’t you, y/n?” He leaned down so he was whispering in your ear.

“Yes, fuck yes, love taking your cock!” You squeaked out as he landed a harsh smack on your ass. Jeongin pushed your front down to be flush with the pillows as he forcefully took both of your arms to pin your wrists behind your back making your arch deepen. The new position allowing him to fuck into your deeper, his cock repeatedly kissing your cervix. You bit down onto one of the pillows to try and somewhat quiet your moans so you wouldn’t get a noise complaint from your neighbors the next morning.

However, Jeongin had other ideas. He looked down to see where you two were connected. A creamy ring forming around the base of his cock from your cunt. His gaze then shifted to your other hole, it just begging for attention too. He gathered saliva in his mouth before spitting right on your puckered hole. This caused you to squeal in response. He let one of his hands go from your wrists as the other kept them in place on your lower back. His thumb rubbing in the makeshift lube before inserting it into your asshole. Jeongin felt your walls flutter around his cock as he pumped his thumb slowly.

“I know you like that, baby. Your body tells me. Fuck, such a dirty girl,” he sped up his thrusts to your pussy while hooking his thumb in place in your ass. You couldn’t deny it, you reveled in the feeling of Jeongin using both of your holes.

You let out a throaty moan as you felt that familiar feeling in your tummy building rapidly.

“J-Jeongin- cumming cumming!!” You screamed. One particularly harsh thrust had your legs shaking underneath you and your pussy clenching around his cock again.

“Mmf fuck yessss, cum for me,” the tightness enveloping his dick made his rhythm stutter spilling his hot seed deep into you.

If you hadn’t been so utterly fucked out you would have felt that his cum was filling you up.

Jeongin let go of your wrists completely and removed his thumb from your ass. Your legs finally giving out from under you making your body fall flat on the bed. Jeongin collapsed on top of you. Both of you trying hard to catch your breath. He moved before you did, removing his now softening cock from within you. His gaze stayed on your core for a bit to make sure you weren’t leaking any of his cum.

Hopefully this will take and she’ll get pregnant. He pondered.

After Jeongin was sure none was going to slip out he rubbed your back and shoulders.

“You did so well for me, y/n. Do you need anything, some water maybe?” He asked you in a warm voice. All you could do was nod.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He kissed your shoulder before getting off the bed and looking for his black boxers to put back on then walked out to the kitchen. You made your way to curl up under your blankets as your body cooled down. The exhaustion of everything finally hitting you. Jeongin returned with a glass full of water encouraging you to drink the whole thing. When you finished he crawled into bed behind you and pulled you close. Your body fitting perfectly in his hold. Before you knew it you had fallen asleep.

“You’re going to be mine forever. I’ll make sure of it.” He whispered, careful not to wake you.

A few weeks later you were late. At first you didn’t worry about it thinking your cycle was only changing like it did every once in a while. But being more than 10 days late was abnormal for you.

There’s no way I’m pregnant.

You panicked immediately going to a pharmacy and buying a pregnancy test. Once you returned home you took it, anxiously waiting for the results. Five minutes had passed and you looked at the test. It was a strong positive. The test dropped from your hands and at your feet on the floor. But how? You and Jeongin have always been diligent about using protection (or so you thought). You had even been in the process of getting a prescription for birth control.

How am I going to tell Innie? What will he think?

You still felt too young to have kids. Maybe you would eventually, but definitely not now. You simply weren’t ready. Jeongin was going to come over later after he got off work, you’d tell him then.

About six hours later there was a knock at your door. You already knew it was your boyfriend, he always knocked a certain way. You opened the door to reveal the bright smile he wore. He held up a bag of food signaling he brought dinner. Jeongin gave you a chaste kiss then made his way inside setting the food on the table.

“Umm, Innie. I have something to tell you.” Your nerves were starting to get the better of you. What if he thought you had cheated on him?

“What’s up baby? You okay?” He caught on to your avoidance to look him in the eye causing his brows to furrow. You made your way into the bathroom where you kept the pregnancy test on the counter. You walked back out simply handing him the test without another word. Jeongin took the stick from your hand with a confused look on his face. He didn’t know what the hell he was looking at.

“It’s a pregnancy test…” you whispered. He looked at you in shock before looking back down at the test figuring out that it was positive.

“My baby is having my baby?!” He sounded.. happy?

“You aren’t mad?” Now it was your turn to be confused. Jeongin picked you up in a hug and spun you around then set you back down.

“No, of course not. I’m ecstatic!” He exclaimed.

There were so many questions you still had but for now you decided to enjoy the moment with Jeongin. If he was this excited about it then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Just a few months ago you were in a funk about not having someone special in your life, but now you couldn’t ask for anyone better to spend it with.

Jeongin had the most devilish smile on his face.

His plan worked perfectly. Now you’d really be his forever.

Do y'all think Innie would keep his socks on while fucking? It makes me laugh just thinking about it haha

Likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Taglist: @doitforbangchan

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astarionbraiinrot · 27 days ago

Text

Last Call

Chapter 1: Astarion

Sequel to One for the Road

Read on AO3

It’s a few hours after dawn, and Astarion sits in the rocking chair near the bedroom window, just out of reach of the morning sun, contemplating the child in his arms. A tiny thing. Pudgy cheeks turned rosy after a successful first feed, courtesy of its mother. Pointed ears just slightly too big for its head. A mop of curly white hair in wild disarray. Pale green eyes squinting back at him with the slightly-disgruntled turnip-esque look inherent to newborns. A perfectly healthy baby boy, weighing in at just over seven pounds, and born at roughly 7-ish that morning, the first cries of this brand-new life coinciding with the dawning sun’s feeble attempts at projecting warmth into the midwinter chill of the frosty Nightal morning.

Looking back, the number seven had played a not-insignificant role in many of the major events of Astarion’s life. According to the records he and Tav had managed to dig up, he had been born near the end of Flamerule, the seventh month of the year, and he had died in that same month just a tenday shy of his fortieth birthday. He had been one of seven spawn, then one of seven thousand and seven. When he’d been kidnapped and tadpoled by Mindflayers, he’d quickly found himself part of a group of seven strangers traveling together to find a cure for the ticking timebombs in their brains. Then, almost as quickly, that group of strangers had become a party of seven friends-turned-adventurers on a quest to save the world. He’d stabbed Cazador fourteen times the night he'd taken back his life and regained his freedom, seven to kill him and seven more just because he deserved it. Their journey to defeat the Netherbrain and the Dead Three’s Chosen, from nautiloid to giant brain sinking into the Chionthar, took seven harrowing months. And he’d found out he was going to be a father for the first time just seven days before helping to crash that giant brain into the river. Now here he sat, making some rather embarrassing cooing noises he’d never admit to and gently rocking his seventh child.

Gods, his seventh child. He’d had months to wrap his head around the concept, and still, here he was, absolutely baffled as to how they’d gotten here. Even he could admit, privately, in his own mind, that seven was maybe a slightly unreasonable number of children to have. Especially for two Elves. Hells, most Elven couples barely managed two or three children over as many centuries, yet somehow, he and Tav had exceeded half a dozen in less than two decades. And while Elven children were uncommon, Dhampir were rarer still, with all sources firmly insisting that only True Vampires could sire them and that spawn were entirely sterile.

Shows what they know.

Even now, seven(!) children and almost twenty years later, they still truly had no idea why they were the exception to either rule. With their eldest, they had assumed it was a fluke of the tadpole (once he’d stopped hyperventilating long enough to have a conversation anyway). That, along with allowing him to walk in the sun, touch running water, and enter homes uninvited, it had temporarily knocked some part of his biology back close enough to “living” and whoops now they’re going to be parents. A once-in-an-unlifetime opportunity that had subsequently disappeared again along with all the tadpole’s other gifts.

It was a very sound theory too, if he did say so himself. Or at least it had been, right up until the moment Tav had informed him they’d managed the supposedly-impossible a second time. Or, more accurately, a second and third time, because clearly they were incapable of doing anything by halves. That time had coincided with some magical experimentation he’d undergone courtesy of Gale which, while not fully having the desired results, had given him an entire glorious month of being near-mortal enough to eat real food and walk in the sun. And so, once again, they’d made the (very reasonable in his opinion) decision to attribute this one to magic and unusual circumstances affecting biology in strange ways, blamed Gale this time, and got on with their lives as a happy family of five, confident in the knowledge that there was no chance of this happening again.

Of course, just over a year later when it did in fact very much happen again, they were forced to consider alternative causes to what was rapidly looking like the beginnings of a small army of children. Their friends’ theories had ranged from “killing Cazador could have made Astarion a True Vampire on a technicality,” to “the large number of lives lost in the Mindflayer invasion might have created a surplus of Elven souls waiting to reincarnate,” to the much more pragmatic “you are incapable of keeping your hands off one another and this is the expected result of such lack of willpower,” which to Lae’zel’s credit, was at the very least a contributing factor.

When the fifth one had happened a couple years later, followed rather quickly by the sixth not long after, he and Tav had decided that maybe it was time they sought out help with preventative measures. They’d paid Shadowheart a visit as soon as Tav was well enough to travel, hoping that her Clerical training and knowledge of medicine and potions would be up to the task. It was, and that had worked quite well for the next ten years, which turned out to be just long enough for them to get complacent, and now here they were again.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t wanted children, per se, moreso that they just hadn’t considered it could be an option since it wasn’t supposed to be possible, so they’d never really thought about whether they wanted to be preventing it or not until they’d already had four toddlers running around. But, unplanned as they were (and he never was good at plans anyway), he’d been relieved to find that loving them was not the arduous task he’d feared it might be. Quite the opposite, actually. He had not been prepared for just how much he could love them, these amazing little creatures that were somehow, miraculously, part him. But he did, with all the deepest parts of the heart he’d been sure he didn’t possess. Each one was a gift he’d never expected to receive, or even known he’d wanted, but gods was he so glad that they were here.

Even now, when he finds himself more and more wondering where the time has gone, one child just barely grown and most of the rest nearly there, all navigating life with grace and confidence and a drive for independence he knows they are ready for but he isn’t, happiness is the emotion he encounters the most these days. And, oh, wasn’t that just a kick to the chest? No one had told him that all the parts you prepare for, the crying, sleepless nights, toilet training, homework, sibling rivalries, puberty, broken hearts, dating, sleepless nights again, all the parts you expect to be hard, that those were actually the easy parts. No one had warned him that the hard part was having to put down the reins, letting them grow and navigate the world, seeing them try and fail and try again, fall and shake off the bruises and get back up. Spending the first half of their childhood hyper focused on keeping them safe, only for them to spend the second half excitedly forging a path out of that safety and into adventure as quickly as they can. He hadn’t known that watching his children experience life would feel like breaking his soul into pieces and setting them loose to run around outside his body discovering who they’ll be. Hadn’t prepared for an existence spent with his heart in his throat as he can only watch from the sidelines while they begin the journey of creating their own lives separate from him.

He absolutely does not get misty-eyed at that thought, and he’s only wiping his eyes because they itch, actually, and probably he’s suddenly developed a dust allergy just now because he definitely hasn’t shed even one tear over the idea of how quiet the house will be once they’re all grown and gone and he’s no longer spending his evenings pretending he can't hear the whispered giggles and gossip from their bedrooms as they utterly fail to hide the fact that they’re awake far too late for people who have school in the morning.

Gods, it must be terribly dusty in here.

Sitting here, holding his son and thinking about this family he’s built, it feels… strangely peaceful. A peace he knows will be shattered the moment the child in his arms turns his attention from scowling at his father to demanding another meal, but peaceful nonetheless. There wasn’t anything else that needed his attention at the moment. The midwife had attended to the cleanup before departing, making sure that the soiled bed linens were disposed of and replaced while he’d helped Tav to the bath and set about preparing her some breakfast. He’d sent a message to the neighbors asking them to inform the girls that their mother and new sibling were doing well and they could meet the baby when they got home from school and yes you still have to go to school today, yes really, yes I know I’m awful and mean and cruel and entirely unreasonable I love you anyway now go to school. Then he’d used their Sending Stone to ask Gale to please inform his eldest of the news and that he’d be sending funds for a teleportation circle to bring her home in a few days once her classes at Blackstaff were over for winter break, after which they’d had a brief discussion to adjust their holiday plans so that Gale’s family would now be coming to them for this year’s Winter Solstice Simril festival instead.

And so, with his to-do list cleared, he’d turned his mind to the task he’d been given by his darling wife, who was currently taking a well-earned rest in the bed nearby.

After both Tav and the baby had received a thorough bathing and a hearty meal, she’d placed their swaddled son in Astarion’s arms with instructions that their child needed a name, and since he was the one who’d insisted that they did not need to prepare a boy’s name, that meant he could do the work of coming up with one now while she would be taking a nap. And, if she awoke to find their son still nameless, she’d make the executive decision to name him after Gale. A very motivating threat, considering the man had already managed to lure away one of Astarion’s children into academia and wizardry of all things, a fact that he was not at all still minorly irritated over thank you very much, and he’d be damned if he’d let the wizard’s ego get any bigger by giving him a namesake on top of it. Absolutely not.

Thus, he’d spent the better part of the last hour considering this tiny new life and what moniker might fit him. A daunting task, really. Despite neither he nor Tav really being ones for tradition or holding to any particular religion, they knew that, for Elves, the choosing of a name was not something to be taken lightly, especially a child’s name. When they’d discovered they were expecting their eldest, finding out that they’d somehow accidentally done the supposedly-impossible and made an entire person at quite frankly the worst possible time had left them understandably quite anxious and a little terrified, so they had turned to Halsin for advice. In an effort to soothe their nerves, the druid had told them that, in Elven communities, a child’s birth was a momentous occasion, often drawing the entire neighborhood to gather and wait with eager anticipation for word of the new arrival. Once born, the child would be brought out by the new parents and presented to an elder relative, who would officially welcome them to the community by announcing the name chosen for them to those gathered. The name would usually reflect something unique about the child, or maybe convey what their presence meant to their parents, or might simply be a heartfelt wish for the child’s future. With rare exception, Elves would retain faint memories of these moments throughout their lives, even as other memories of childhood faded.

While hearing that had actually helped Tav to calm a little, it had done the exact opposite for Astarion, mostly just adding a layer of sadness to the fear coloring his already racing thoughts. The feeling that, by mere virtue of having no known family, they’d be denying their child what was apparently a core memory and treasured experience for their people, had broken some tiny little thing inside him, like a sliver off the edge of a pane of glass that leaves a weak point capable of shattering the rest. The whole thing just sounded so… nice. The thought of so many people eagerly awaiting your arrival, purely because your mere existence was a gift. The idea of being so wanted, so loved, before any of those gathered had even met you yet. He had wondered, briefly, if anyone had done that for him? Gathering around and celebrating simply because he was him and he was here. He had no memories of his mortal life, no family history to pass down or stories from his own youth that he could share with this child. Hells, he still had his childhood name, had died before he’d had the chance to even begin putting any thought into what name he might choose for himself when he came of age, what would represent who he had wanted to be.

Jaheira had told him at some point that his name meant “little star.” He’d had no idea. Had had no cause or opportunity to know it, and no one to ask even if he had. Was that how his parents had thought of him, a shining point of light, all bright and dazzling? He’d wanted to believe that there had been thought put into it. That someone had cared enough about his existence that they’d taken the time to find just the right name, one that would convey what they’d felt, hoped, dreamed for him. Though, whatever the intentions behind his name were, he was confident that he hadn’t lived up to them. He certainly hoped that none of what had occurred in the last two hundred years of his life and been on their wish list, anyway.

But, he’d thought, if he couldn’t provide this child with the ancestral welcome they deserved, then maybe the weird little family they’d somehow built out of a disparate group of traumatized worm-filled strangers could be enough. Maybe he could do for his own child what he’d decided to believe had been done for him and give them a name that was built on something good, something warm and positive, even if he was scared shitless at this whole situation.

And so, with that in mind, each of their children’s names had been chosen with the utmost care and reverence for the little life they’d made, with the hope that they would grow up feeling a connection and sense of belonging that neither he nor Tav had known, something to provide a root in the soil of the extended family they’d defied gods to build. A desperate wish that their children would always feel, no matter what, that they were loved, wholly and unconditionally, and know that home was always waiting for them.

The baby lets out a soft grunt and shifts in his blanket, at some point having chosen sleep over continuing to stare at his father while he’d been lost in thought. As Astarion takes in this tiny brand-new being, not even a half-day old, a surprise but welcome epilogue to a story they’d thought finished years ago, he tries to focus his tired mind on this important task laid at his feet. But it’s been over a day since he last tranced. The adrenaline of this whole event had kept him going for a while, but that had worn off hours ago, and while he’d pushed through the exhaustion to make sure that Tav and the baby were taken care of, he can feel himself losing the battle now that things have settled down. His eyes close without his permission. He leans back in the chair, cradling his son securely to his chest as muscle memory from the countless times he’s done this before slides over him like a well-worn glove. He inhales deeply, taking in that new baby smell he loves so much, and promises to himself that he’ll just rest his eyes for ten minutes.

Fifteen at most.

Definitely no more than twenty.

As he slips into Reverie, his mind drifts back to every time he’d been in this position over the years, and all the events that had led up to those moments, searching for inspiration. The initial fear that had reared its head less and less each time. The cautious excitement every time he first heard the faint double-time beat of a tiny heart. The wonder of feeling first kicks from a little creature so eager to make its presence known. The anxiety and thrill when there had been two. The pain and grief and terror when it had once gone so wrong. The adrenaline and panic and relief when it had once gone too right. The bone-deep exhaustion and elation and happy tears and pure joy that always came at the end when hearing that first cry. Each time, a small bundle gently placed in his arms. For each one, renewed awe that he could ever get to have something this unequivocally good. Always, a whispered introduction.

Hello, darling. It’s so nice to finally meet you.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion #dadstarion #tav x astarion #tavstarion #3k+#Last Call #Closing Out the Tab

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just-aake · 1 year ago

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Boundless Devotion - Part IX

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Warnings: angst, mention and hints of abuse, brief violence

Words: 5824

Something feels different with you and Natasha.

It’s not a drastic shift, nothing extremely out of the ordinary.

It’s more like an observation of yours concerning your interactions with her.

Ever since the festival, Carol’s comments have been echoing in your mind, causing you to notice things you didn’t before.

For instance, during quiet moments reading in the library, you occasionally catch Natasha gazing at you from the corner of your eye.

Whenever you turn to meet her gaze in question, her expression would soften into her usual grin, and that familiar warm feeling from many times before would re-emerge between the two of you.

Moments like that have left you wondering if this tension between you is new or if it has always existed before.

You are unable to come to a definitive conclusion though because as the days pass, there is less time for you to observe Natasha much further.

With only three days left until the coronation, the preparations keep everyone in the kingdom and the castle busy, especially Natasha who appears more exhausted every time you see her.

So, in an attempt to offer her a break from her responsibilities, you invited her for a sword training session by the lake the next morning.

It was a chance for you to both fulfill your promise to her and hopefully address this unspoken tension between you.

Natasha had eagerly accepted your invitation, her tired expression replaced by an excited, appreciative smile when you asked her.

Now, under the early morning sun, Natasha stands in front of you, confidently wielding a wooden practice sword in her hand while you grip a similar one in yours.

She has already gone through the basics with you and now believes that you are ready for a practice spar with her, despite the doubtful look that you gave her.

"Remember to move with your whole body, not just your arms," Natasha reminds you as she takes her stance.

You nod with your gaze locked on hers, determined to at least show her that her efforts were not completely in vain.

The two of you begin to circle each other slowly, Natasha waiting patiently for you to make the first move.

With a deep breath, you finally lunge to strike her, and she effortlessly blocks your attack in turn, but still, you persist, following with a series of swings she taught you earlier.

Throughout each exchange, Natasha guides your movements, offering helpful pointers and gentle advice.

Then once she gets the sense of your comfort, Natasha initiates some strikes of her own, forcing you to also focus on defense, dodging and parrying her attacks in turn.

Eventually, the both of you end up moving together in harmony, almost as though you are dancing to the melody of your swords connecting with each strike.

As the spar continues, the tension in the air also seems to increase with every gasp of breath, each movement drawing the two of you closer and closer together without even realizing it.

At one point, your swords lock, and you push determinedly against her block, bringing your faces inches apart.

Natasha’s eyes instantly shift from the swords trapped between your bodies to your eyes, her own shining with a proud glint as her smile widens.

You let out a shaky exhale and feel your breath quicken, not just from the training, but from the intensity of her gaze now focused on you.

There’s that look again, the one that makes you wonder if Carol was right — the familiar warm look that gives you a glimmer of hope that Natasha may feel something more for you.

The sword in your hand becomes an afterthought as you focus on Natasha's presence.

With your faces so close, that previous irresistible force draws you nearer to her, and you bite your lip unconsciously at the reminder of the last time you were this close to her.

Natasha’s eyes seemingly darken as they drift down and fix on your lips at the movement, causing your heart to race and your cheeks to flush even further.

"I—I think we can take a break," Natasha whispers, her voice husky with emotion.

She steps back from you, breaking the intense connection.

The distance helps to clear your mind a bit as you clear your throat slightly and make a sound of agreement, unable to trust your voice. You can still feel your heart racing as you try to collect yourself.

Thankfully, Natasha doesn’t see your flustered expression as she turns around and heads to the edge of the lake.

“That was good. You almost hit me at one point,” Natasha compliments over her shoulder.

You huff in amusement and roll your eyes at her words, knowing she was just trying to be supportive.

“That’s only because you let me get that close,” you point out, aware of how she went easy on you.

You’ve watched Natasha train enough times to know that this was just a fraction of her usual speed and strength.

Natasha chuckles lightly, not denying your claim.

Kneeling at the lake’s edge, she splashes some water on her face to help her cool down and relieve the flush that she still feels on her cheeks.

For some reason, when your face suddenly appeared so close to hers, Natasha swears that she had completely lost focus for a moment there, all thoughts of the training leaving her mind.

That was why she had suggested the break so that she could take some time to compose herself.

Behind her, you fidget with the wooden sword in your hand, digging its point against the ground in a nervous pattern.

That moment just now reminded you of the other topic you wanted to discuss with Natasha today.

With a deep breath, you call out to her.

“Natasha, can I ask you something?”

She hums in acknowledgment, her back still turned to you.

"Do you—have you ever—,“ you groan internally, struggling to find the words to express your question.

It’s not like you can just bluntly ask if Natasha has any feelings for you.

With a resigned sigh, you decide to ask instead, “What would you do if you like someone, but you don’t exactly know how they feel about you?”

Natasha freezes, surprised by the question.

That uncomfortable feeling in her chest from the night of the festival returns, and the memory of you and Carol standing close together flashes through her mind.

She swallows nervously as she focuses on her reflection in the water, her expression showing one of discomfort at the memory.

Natasha sighs internally, knowing she can’t avoid these kinds of discussions with you forever.

"I guess, for me, I would just ask them directly about how they feel,” she replies honestly.

A small smile forms on your face as you shake your head knowingly.

Of course Natasha has the confidence to do something like that.

You don’t think you would be able to do the same.

After making sure the color on her face and her expression have returned to normal, Natasha stands and makes her way back to you. She tilts her head at you curiously.

"Is there someone you have in mind?" she asks you in turn.

There’s a short pause as you contemplate your answer.

Wanda’s words from the festival echo in your mind, giving you a little courage to at least try for what you want for once.

"There is," you admit softly.

“Oh,” Natasha sighs lightly with a tight smile before asking, “Do I know her?”

You smile gently as you think about Natasha and what she means to you.

“Yeah, she’s…she’s really amazing, and she’s one of my closest friends. That’s why I don’t want to ruin anything between us,” you explain your hesitance.

Natasha watches your face soften as you talk, and she closes her eyes briefly in resignation, already suspecting that you are referring to Carol.

She should be happy that you found someone you liked, and she knows Carol is a good person who would treat you well if you got together.

So, despite the uncomfortable ache in her chest, Natasha decides that she will support you in your decision no matter what.

“Well, I wouldn’t be too worried, Y/n. Anybody would be honored to have you as a partner,” Natasha reassures you.

Your heart swells with hope at her praise, and you open your mouth to tell her the truth about your feelings, but then Natasha’s next words catch you off guard.

“I’m sure Carol feels the same way,” Natasha tells you with a small smile.

A small crack forms in your heart as your smile turns downward slightly, and you tilt your head in confusion.

"Carol?"

Natasha nods, looking down and fidgeting with the sword in her hand. She is unable to meet your gaze, not wanting you to see her upset feelings about her next words.

"You know, with my coronation almost here, you won't have to pretend to be in a relationship with me much longer. You'll be free to be with the person that you want."

The crack in your heart widens with the realization of what she means, and you raise your hand to your chest in an attempt to ease the growing pain there.

"And you think that the person I should be with is Carol?" you ask with a furrowed brow.

"I've seen the way she looks at you, Y/n.”

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line as she reluctantly admits her next words.

“I’m sure the two of you together would be...great."

Your heart shatters at her words as you come to a disappointing conclusion.

You were right. Natasha doesn’t like you in that way.

The two of you are just friends, and you were foolish to think otherwise.

You feel your eyes well up slightly with tears, but you blink them back, hiding your sadness and disappointment.

Natasha finally looks up at your silence and notices the change in your expression. She reaches out in concern toward your hand that was still clutched at your chest.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

At Natasha’s movement, you pull your hand down, hiding it behind your back and offering her a weak smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just thought…”

You shake your head, your voice cracking slightly as you try to keep your emotions under control.

“Never mind, it was stupid."

Natasha furrows her brows in confusion.

The conversation fades into an awkward and heavy silence, like a sudden weight pressing down on the both of you.

Unable to bear the pressure, you excuse yourself, offering the practice sword back to her.

“I’m sorry, Natasha, I’m not feeling so well. Can we continue the training another day?”

“Sure,” Natasha replies slowly in hesitation, taking the sword. She steps closer to you.

“I can bring you home,” she offers.

You shake your head quickly, taking a step back in response to keep the distance between you and Natasha.

"It's fine. I can go by myself.”

You need to spend some time alone to gather your thoughts and push away your feelings so that you can return to the way it was before with Natasha.

As just friends.

Natasha searches your face and finds that she can’t understand the reason for the subtle signs of distress in your expression.

“Are you sure?” she asks hesitantly.

You nod reassuringly, your smile strained.

"I'll see you later, Natasha," you promise weakly, turning around to leave.

With a growing ache in her chest, Natasha watches you walk away, your sad expression lingering in her mind.

For some reason, Natasha can’t help but feel that she just did something wrong.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha slumps into her window seat, letting out a heavy sigh. She leans her head back against the window sill as her arm rests atop her bended knee.

Her eyes glance out the window. Even though she can’t see your manor from here, her gaze still finds its general direction.

She thinks back to the conversation with you at the lake, attempting to understand the reason behind your sad expression when you left her.

The only guess that Natasha has as to the possible cause of your sudden sullen mood is the discussion about your feelings for the person you liked.

That reminder causes her eyes to drift down to the small box in her hand, cradling the ring that you had singled out as your favorite.

The item stirs a sudden sense of nostalgia for Natasha, of a time when life was simpler for you and her, back when she didn’t have to imagine the idea of you being with someone else.

Someone who wasn’t her.

Natasha’s eyes widen at the thought, and she sits up abruptly as a realization washes over her.

Determined to confirm her suspicion, Natasha envisions you and Carol together, and sure enough, that tight, uncomfortable ache returns in her chest.

But then, Natasha shifts her thoughts to the moments when you are with her.

Her heart suddenly warms at the memories of you.

Your smiles and laughter. Your playful and teasing banters with her and the way you treat her as a person, not just the princess.

The times when you were not by her side and how she would always seek you out.

How she never tires of listening to your voice talk about your interests.

The desire to keep you safe and protect you from harm.

All the times you blush around her.

That one moment when you both accidentally kissed and how much she wanted to lean in for another.

Overwhelmed by all the memories, Natasha covers her face and groans aloud in realization at her obliviousness.

“Uh oh, did something happen with Y/n?”

Yelena’s voice breaks her thoughts, and Natasha looks up from her hands to find her sister standing in the doorway, her brows furrowing at the question.

“What makes you say that?”

Yelena shrugs and enters the room, plopping down on the bed casually.

“Every time Y/n avoided you before, you would sit there and brood in your room for days.”

Natasha exhales in disbelief, running her fingers through her hair exasperatedly at Yelena’s words.

Has it always been that obvious?

Natasha glances down at the ring in her lap, thinking about you again. That warm feeling envelops her heart instantly, and now she knows what it means.

“I think I’m in love with Y/n,” Natasha breathes out.

At her admission, Yelena stares at her blankly for a moment before suddenly slumping against the bed and letting out a deep breath of relief.

“Oh, thank god, I thought I was going to lose for a moment there.”

Her comment snaps Natasha out of her reverie.

Confused and suspicious, Natasha stands up from her window seat and approaches Yelena, who is now lying upside down across her bed. She places her hands on her hips and demands an explanation.

“What are you talking about?”

Yelena waves her hand nonchalantly in the air as she explains.

“Well, Kate and I had a bet on how long it would take for you to realize your feelings for Y/N after your whole fake relationship plan was created.”

“You knew?” Natasha exclaims, grabbing a pillow nearby and hitting Yelena with it. “And you didn’t say anything?!”

“Hey!” Yelena grabs another pillow to block her sister’s attacks before standing up on the other side of the bed, out of Natasha’s reach.

“At least I had some faith in you and said that you would figure it out before your coronation.”

Natasha throws her hands in the air in frustration.

“How was I supposed to suddenly figure out by myself that I am in love with Y/n? We’ve been friends for years."

Yelena raises her brows and scoffs in disbelief before pointing a finger accusingly at her.

“Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at Y/n,” she remarks bluntly.

Exasperated, Natasha groans in disbelief, running her hand through her hair in frustration.

Yelena raises her hand reassuringly.

“No, this is good. Now the two of you can just stop this whole fake relationship plan and actually get together,” she points out.

Natasha pauses, suddenly remembering her earlier conversation with you at the lake, and she winces as she recalls her words to you.

Yelena notices her expression and narrows her eyes suspiciously.

“What did you do?” she asks.

Natasha drags her hand down her face, shaking her head.

“Y/n and I talked earlier today, and I may have suggested…that she and Carol be together.”

She lets the pillow that Yelena throws hit her, upset by her own actions now too.

“You are hopeless,” Yelena states plainly before climbing over the bed to her side and grabbing her wrist.

“Come on, we need to go to Y/n’s and fix this.”

Natasha shakes her head and pulls her hand back from Yelena’s grip.

“I can’t leave now. I have that security meeting with dad and all of the knights in the courtyard later,” she explains.

The only free time she had was this morning with you.

After that, she is busy for the rest of the day with finalizing the details for the coronation.

Yelena crosses her arms and frowns at Natasha.

“Well, we can’t have Y/n think you don’t love her and then decide to be with Carol instead,” she argues.

“Yelena’s right,” a voice interrupts them.

The two sisters snap their attention to the person leaning against the open doorway.

Carol has an amused expression on her face as she stares pointedly at them.

“The two of you should really close the door when you’re discussing sensitive information such as fake relationships,” she quips casually.

Natasha turns to shoot a disapproving look to Yelena, who avoids her gaze and rubs her neck sheepishly.

Carol steps into the room and continues, “Yelena is right though. I like beating you, Natasha, but not like this.”

Natasha furrows her brow in confusion.

“What are you saying?” she asks.

Carol nods her head toward the door and explains.

“You should go and clear things up with Y/n. I’m sure your father won’t mind if I help him with organizing the knights in your place.”

At the offer, Yelena grabs Natasha’s arm and begins to pull her along again.

“Great, that’s settled. Let’s go.”

As Natasha goes past Carol, the other princess places her hand on Natasha’s shoulder to stop her for a moment and gives her a teasing smirk.

“You have one chance, Natasha. If Y/n rejects you, I’m not going to hold back,” Carol warns playfully.

Natasha huffs in amusement and rolls her eyes.

They may be rivals at times, but she’s glad that at the end of it all the two of them can still treat each other as friends.

She gives Carol a firm nod in acknowledgment and a pat in appreciation before quickly leaving.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After your swift exit away from the lake and Natasha, you make your way slowly down the path toward your manor.

A deep sigh escapes your lips as you remember Natasha’s words.

You can’t help but blame yourself for assuming that Natasha might have deeper feelings for you. It’s clear that she only sees you as a friend.

Disappointment washes over you again at the reminder, but you quickly brush off the feeling.

It’s not like you didn’t already know this before.

Instead of being sad about something you already knew was not possible, you should find comfort in the fact that you still have Natasha in your life, even if the both of you remain just as close friends.

Losing that connection with her is not something you ever want to experience again.

As you approach the manor gates, your thoughts distract you, making you oblivious to the figure emerging from the shadows behind you.

A hand grabs your arm, startling you from your thoughts.

You pull back in shock and turn to face the stranger, quickly recognizing him as the man who bumped into you at the festival.

Seeing your startled expression, he quickly releases your arm and steps back, allowing some space between you.

Cautiously, you take another step back to increase the distance between the two of you before addressing the stranger.

“You’re the one from before. Who are you?”

He remains silent as his eyes carefully study your face.

“Can I help you?” you try again.

Still, he doesn’t respond.

A small feeling of frustration wells up in you as you recall his previous disinterest in responding to you.

About to repeat your question, you overhear him muttering something under his breath.

“It can’t be possible.”

He continues to examine you, lost in thought.

“But there is a resemblance,” he says absentmindedly.

You frown in confusion at his words, so you try to see if he would clarify his meaning.

“What are you talking about?”

The man focuses his attention on you, furrowing his brows when he realizes you had heard him.

With a final study of your face, he finally answers.

“You really do look so much like your mother.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at his words.

Besides the information concerning her death, there is little to nothing that you know about your mother, not even what she looks like.

It was as if after her death, your father had erased all traces of her existence.

During the year, when he had finally remained in the kingdom long enough for you to ask, he got violently upset.

You touch your neck lightly, still remembering the pressure there, before shaking your head to brush away the memory.

You never asked him about her again after that.

“You knew my mother?” you ask curiously.

Feelings of pain and regret cloud his eyes as he begins to respond, but then he seems to realize something, his eyes narrowing.

“What are you doing here? This place belongs to Dreykov.”

You glance at the manor, then back at him before cautiously responding in confusion.

“This is my home. Lord Dreykov is my father.”

Your words cause his eyes to widen in shock and anger to appear on his face.

“No, he isn’t!” he growls, grabbing your arm once more and attempting to pull you away. “You shouldn’t be here!”

Confusion and alarm course through you as you struggle to free yourself, but to your realization, he is much stronger than you.

“Hey!” Pietro’s voice calls out from behind. “Let her go!”

Soon, the man is pushed away from you, and you are pulled back swiftly.

Pietro stands protectively in front of you, with his arm outstretched, creating a barrier between you and the man.

“Wait, Pietro,” you say, placing your hand on his arm reassuringly as he attempts to back the two of you away.

Pietro glances doubtfully at you before reluctantly lowering his arm to his side at your request, though he still stays close to you, remaining vigilant.

Turning your attention back to the man on the ground, you think about his cryptic words.

"What did you mean just now?" you ask him to explain.

Before he can respond, a voice from behind makes you tense in surprise at his unexpected presence.

“Well, look who we have here.”

Your father strides past you, his condescending gaze fixed on the man.

With a wave of his hands, his guards restrain the man and force him to his knees.

The man’s anger flares at the sight of Dreykov, and he struggles violently against the guards’ hold on him but he cannot escape their grip.

Dreykov smirks menacingly at him.

“Oh, Barnes, you have fallen so low after all these years,” Dreykov mocks, chuckling. “Though I assume being constantly on the run doesn’t help, does it?”

“Because of you!” the man snarls and tries to lunge at Dreykov, but he is quickly overpowered and pinned to the ground for his action.

Your eyes widen at the revelation, connecting the information on who this stranger was.

You examine the man closely again.

Barnes, or more precisely Sir James Barnes, was the name of the previous captain of the Stark Kingdom, also known as the traitor who murdered the members of the Stark royal family right after the war.

You look between your father and him critically, still trying to piece together their relationship with each other.

It was obviously antagonistic for both sides, judging by their interaction.

Dreykov clicks his tongue mockingly as he shakes his head at Barnes, who still glares up at him from his pinned position.

Your father then turns his attention to you, seemingly remembering your presence.

Instinctively, you pull Pietro back behind you as you tensely watch his eyes flicker between you and Barnes in thought.

He finally settles on you as he demands.

“What did he say to you?”

You glance at Barnes on the ground, who subtly shakes his head at you.

At your hesitance, your father takes a menacing step toward you, and you snap your attention back to him.

“He said nothing,” you reply quickly. “He just came out of nowhere and surprised me. That’s all.”

Your father scrutinizes you closely for a moment before chuckling darkly and turning his attention back to Barnes.

"Did you really come out of hiding to try and ambush me after all these years, only to fail so pathetically?"

You wince as your father presses his boot against Barnes's pinned head, speaking condescendingly.

“Though, I wouldn’t blame yourself too much for your failure,” he turns to look at you in disdain, causing you to instinctively take a step back at the harsh glare.

“After all, this girl does tend to ruin plans.”

Pietro growls at his insult toward you and tries to take a step forward, but your hand quickly reaches out in front of him to stop his advance, giving him a subtle shake of your head.

Dreykov’s eyes narrow at Pietro’s movement, but you step forward, drawing his attention back to you before he can get upset at Pietro’s almost act of disrespect.

You gesture to Barnes.

“What are you going to do with him?” you ask in concern.

Dreykov rolls his eyes at your worried tone, removing his foot from Barnes’ head and stepping away.

“Lock him up. I’ll deal with him later,” he commands.

You watch as the guards lead Barnes away until he disappears from view, leaving you with a sense of unease at the fact that the meaning of his previous words remains a mystery to you.

“Where are they taking him?” you inquire, hoping to find a chance to get some more answers from him.

“That is none of your concern,” your father responds sternly, his eyes fixed on you with a disapproving glare.

“You should be more worried about the consequences of your actions and behavior today.”

Confusion washes over you as you furrow your brows, trying to comprehend what you might have done to have displeased him.

At your perplexed expression, he gestures to you with a reprimanding tone.

“Why is it that whenever I return, you are never where you are supposed to be?” he criticizes.

Realizing that he was referring to your absence this morning, you begin to explain.

“I was—”

“I don’t want your excuses,” he interrupts sharply, causing you to shut your mouth in a flinch at his tone.

With a wave of his hands, his guards approach you, their firm grips fastening onto your arms.

“Take her to her room and make sure she stays there,” he orders them.

“Hey!” Pietro exclaims as he moves toward you to help you, but then he is also apprehended by some guards, twisting his arms painfully behind his back.

Seeing the way the guards roughly grab Pietro, you manage to free yourself from their grasp and take a deliberate step toward your father.

“Stop, I’ll go,” you quickly reassure, your voice shaking slightly as you confront him directly.

You gesture to Pietro, still struggling in the guards’ grip.

“Just tell them to let him go.”

Your father’s scrutinizing gaze seems to weigh your words and actions for a moment as if determining if it was an act of defiance or not before coming to a decision.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, the guards release their hold on Pietro and shove him in your direction.

You catch Pietro and let out a breath of relief that he is safe at your side again.

Your father scoffs at your reaction, rolling his eyes at your concern. He raises a warning finger at you.

“See that you stay in that room,” your father remarks sternly. “I have more important matters to attend to today than to wonder where you will wander off to.”

With those words, he turns and heads back toward the manor without another glance at you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha raises a skeptical brow as she confronts the guards blocking the entrance to your manor.

“What do you mean I can’t see Lady Y/n?” she asks, her voice laced with a subtle warning.

The guard stands firm in his position, responding with a monotone formality.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. No visitors are allowed inside the manor today.”

Unfazed by the refusal, Yelena shrugs nonchalantly, stepping forward to address the guard.

“Fine, then let us invite Y/n back to the castle.”

She attempts to move around the guard, but he quickly steps in her way, blocking her path.

“Lady Y/n is not allowed to leave the premises either for the remainder of the day,” he declares, his expression emotionless and unyielding.

Natasha narrows her eyes, an uneasiness forming in her as she questions, “Not allowed? By who?”

“That would be me.”

Lord Dreykov emerges from the manor, answering Natasha’s question.

“Your Highnesses,” he greets them with a curt nod.

“Lord Dreykov, you’ve returned from your trip,” Natasha states plainly, her expression growing serious at his presence.

She was not informed that he had returned to the kingdom, and since you didn’t mention anything about it either, this must have occurred recently after you met with her.

The thought of you reminds Natasha of the pressing issue of your situation.

“What is this about Y/n not being allowed to leave?” she questions.

Dreykov disregards her intimidating tone, casually examining his hand in disinterest as he replies.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid Y/n won’t be able to see you today.”

Natasha squints at him in suspicion, before pointing out.

“I was just with her this morning.”

Dreykov scoffs at the revelation, rolling his eyes.

“So that’s where she wandered off to,” he waves his hand in dismissal. “Nonetheless, this is for her own good.”

“How?” Yelena interjects, stepping forward. “It just sounds like you’re treating her as a prisoner.”

Dreykov chuckles and shakes his head.

“No, just a concerned father for his daughter’s well-being. I’m sure King Alexei understands the feeling.”

He gestures to the two of them.

“I’m surprised he’s letting his two daughters outside of the safety of the castle walls after what I heard happened at the tournament.”

His eyes turn to focus on the younger princess.

“By the way, Princess Yelena, it was unfortunate how things ended up, wasn’t it?”

“Sure,” Yelena replies bluntly, crossing her arms and instantly recognizing the insincerity of his concerned tone.

Natasha steps forward, drawing his attention back to her.

Her mother warned her about taking any actions against Lord Dreykov, but that doesn’t mean she can’t try to get some more information on what he knows about the situation.

While she tries to maintain a neutral tone, her voice carries a hint of accusation as she probes.

“Then I’m sure you also heard about Oksana and her condition. Doesn’t it sound like something you would be familiar with, Lord Dreykov?”

Dreykov grins politely, though his eyes narrow in response to Natasha's words.

“I assume you are asking for my opinion on her situation and state of mind and that you are not insinuating anything else, Your Highness.”

Natasha's response is equally measured as she responds.

“I’m just trying to figure out what’s happening, for the safety of everyone in the kingdom.”

He snorts derisively at her, waving his hand dismissively.

“Then you shouldn’t concern yourself about my intentions. That is something we can agree on — a better future for the kingdom.”

His eyes narrow at her, observing her up and down seemingly in contempt before continuing.

“However, as for the one who can accomplish such a thing, my opinion remains the same as before.”

The reminder of their previous conversation concerning her ability to rule makes Natasha clench her fists in frustration, only this time she doesn’t have you next to her as a calming presence.

Dreykov smirks as if satisfied at causing her reaction, and he gestures to the gates of the manor in dismissal.

“Now, I believe it’s time for the two of you to leave. I’m sure the esteemed heir to the kingdom has more important responsibilities to attend to than to waste time seeking out my daughter,” he challenges, raising his eyebrow at her with a knowing expression.

Natasha’s mouth presses into a thin line as she refrains from responding in a way she knows her mother would disapprove of.

It’s obvious that Lord Dreykov was just trying to provoke her again.

She glances at the guards’ unwavering stance at the doors, knowing that going through the front is not an option at the moment. She would need to find another way to see you.

“I’ll come back another time then,” Natasha grits out.

With a curt nod goodbye, Natasha turns around to leave with Yelena following in tow.

“I do hope you heed my previous advice from before,” Lord Dreykov’s voice calls out to her, his tone filled with a mocking warning and making her pause with a deepening frown.

“After all, you don’t want to be caught unprepared when that peace of yours eventually crumbles, especially before such a crucial event.”

With those last ominous words, the manor door and gates close shut behind them.

Yelena kicks a stone against the gates angrily, exclaiming in frustration, “What a jerk! How does Y/n stand him?”

Natasha's calm gaze remains fixated on your manor walls, her thoughts consumed by the strange situation.

"I don't know," she responds distractedly, her mind working on a solution.

Yelena releases another angry huff before noticing Natasha is still facing your manor, lost in thought.

Knowing Natasha’s determination, she places a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she offers an alternative idea.

“Do you want to head over to Kate’s to regroup and see if we can come up with another way to see Y/n?”

Shaking her head, Natasha’s lips curl into a small smirk as her eyes focus on the open window of your room, where your curtains sway gently in the breeze.

“No, you go ahead. I already have a plan.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! And fair warning, I think there is two or three more chapters left to this series.

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin, @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart, @autorasexy, @natsxwife

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year ago

Note

This request is actually inspired by my fic I'm writing and I wanted to see your interpretation of the scene.

Tav is the daughter of a well known pirate, basically the black beard of Baldur's Gate, but after an attack that lead to her father and alot of the crews death she roamed Baldur's Gate until the mindflayer thing happened.

Currently, she and everyone are at a tavern, celebrating another successful quest and honestly still being alive when she hears a familiar song and she sees four old crew members (family) she thought was gone. What is your interpretation of the scene, how would Astarion would react to the news, and seeing her reuinte with her family?

I did not expect this to turn out as long as it did lmao

Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader (can be read as gn)

Warnings: fear of abandonment, alcohol/drinking, swearing

Word Count: 2,123

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The tavern was lively and bustling on the evening you and your companions squeezed in, the sun beginning to paint the sky in dramatic colors as it sets. Almost instantly, your party's spirits are lifted - yours included.

Finding a table for 7 people is no easy feat, but you manage to snag one in the corner. Drinks were served around, jokes about the battle you’d just endured and old stories of lives before the Illithid threat fill the air with an easy camaraderie. It reminds you of your father's ship, of the crew that raised you. Thinking about them again left a bitter taste in your mouth. Astarion must have noticed the distant look in your eye. He reached under the table for your hand, interlacing your fingers easily, and trying to catch your eye.

You smile at him, but your eyes are still glazed over. “I’m just thinking about my family, is all,” you tell him, as though it’s as mundane as thinking of what one needs to get from the market to make dinner. You’d told him of your father, his crew, the ship - and what happened to it. It’s been months, but it’s still too fresh. You still wake up in the dead of night from visions of colossal waves that pull your head under, and screams cut short with the slice of a cutlass. “This… reminds me of them.”

He offers a concerned smile, though it comes out as more of a grimace. “I’m flattered we remind you of drunken sailors,” he drawled sarcastically. It worked to get a laugh out of you, if nothing else.

“Drunken pirates,” you correct. He watches the smile slip, your eyes become distant once more, water pricking at the corners.

Astarion had a… complicated relationship with family. He couldn’t remember his parents, and the “family” Cazador provided were less-than-welcoming at best. As such, he never really knew how to comfort you in times like these. Not that he knew how to comfort anyone, really, but he wanted to try, at least.

“Gods,” you sigh, choked with emotion, “I miss those daft fools.” You lean your head against his shoulder. He maneuvers to wrap his arm around your middle, holding you close, and takes your hand again. “We used to celebrate like this,” you mumbled. His elven ears picked it up easily. “We’d drown the night in ale and groan about it in the morning. Played knife-throwing games as our visions start to spin and double. Sing songs at the top of our lungs, like screaming it would scare away any monster at sea.”

You sigh again. Though he can’t see your face, he can see when you use your free hand to wipe your eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.”

“Darling,” he hums, squeezing your hand, “we are technically in this together. Your burdens are mine and all that. In any case, you’ve carried all of our burdens, even when you didn’t have to. I’m only returning the favor.”

“Thank you.” You lift your head from his shoulder to kiss his cheek. He grins, all too pleased with the simple affection you lavish on him. “Now, enough wallowing.” You clear your throat and grab your tankard. “This is a celebration. And I intend to be too drunk to walk before the night is out.”

He sighed dramatically, lifting his goblet of wine. “And I suppose I’ll be the one to carry you back to camp?”

You smirk up at him, a glint in your eye. Like this, he can imagine you as the pirate you are. Swashbuckling and taking down other ships, climbing up ropes to the top of the sails, peering out from the crow’s nest for any sign of adventure. Dry land did not suit you, he thought.

But then came the thoughts that always followed. If you did return to the sea, to your old life with a new crew, after these tadpoles are removed, he couldn’t follow. The only reason he’s safe from the sun and the burn of running water was because of the damned, wriggly things. He couldn’t follow you onto a ship to be locked away in confined cabins until night, or help if the waters chose to fold over the deck in great big waves, threatening to take down the vessel. He couldn’t have that life. Not with you.

Your head was thrown back, neck bobbing with each gulp of shitty ale. You did not see the pain on his features those thoughts brought him. He tossed back the last of his wine.

You stand and gather the empty mugs of your companions, bright-eyed and ready for round after round (Karlach only encourages this.), when something sounds across the tavern. It’s a rather large establishment, and the bustle of other patrons covers up everything. But it’s there. Loud and boisterous and-

You rush to step over the bench and find the source of the noise. Astarion frowns and chases after. He’s right on your tail as you push through drunkards with half-formed “Excuse me”s and “Coming through”s. As you get closer and closer, the sound becomes clearer. It’s not just noise - it’s singing. A cacophony of voices all singing together.

You squeeze past a barmaid, nearly knocking the drinks from her hands, but the apology is lost when you see a table full of drunken pirates. One starts to take a swig mid-song, when his eyes land on you. He’s on his feet - Is that a peg leg? - in an instant, dropping the tankard carelessly to the table.

“Tav?” he gasps. The rest fall silent, turning around to see what the man was gawking at. They thought he was imagining it, as he’d done time and again since the attack. They all leapt up and rushed forward when you were more than a figment of their alcohol-addled minds.

Astarion was pushed aside as a horde of pirates surrounded you, hugging you and ruffling your hair and all speaking hurriedly with worry and joy. He can’t ignore the pain in his chest, as though someone had driven a stake through his heart. You hugged each one, misty eyed. Questions fell ceaselessly from your lips as you asked how they survived, what happened, what they’d been doing all this time. And he knew. He knew without a shadow of a doubt. He could not hope to be more important than your family. He couldn’t be the one you chose - not when you’d recounted your friends with tales of the open ocean and your father’s crew for hours.

He quietly backed away. The others ask why you rushed off and what was happening when he returned to grab the bottle of wine. He wasn’t too sure what he said. He’d like to think it was some sort of “They found their family” said with a charming grin, and a simple, but believable, excuse to go back to camp not like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, but like a vampire with things that need doing back at camp. Alone. With a bottle of wine.

Your eyes are red and your smile is about to burst off your face when you drag your pirate family over to meet your companions. You’re bouncing on your feet with energy, introducing everyone and nearly crying again when the pirates embrace everyone like family. Your heart is soaring when you look around for Astarion, searching around the table, the bar, the crowd. And it starts falling when you don’t see him anywhere.

“Hey, have any of you seen Astarion?”

Gale groaned as he was released from a bone-crushing hug. He winced as he held his shoulder. “He said he was heading back to camp.”

Your heart crashed firmly against hard cement, leaving cracks in the foundation. “Back to- Why? Did he say why?”

“No,” Shadowheart answered this time, trying not to get caught admiring the intricate braid of another crewmate. “He just took the wine and ran.”

The warm environment suddenly felt cold and unwelcoming. Was he uncomfortable with your family? They were known to be rather callous and loud - maybe they’d scared him off? Was the idea of confronting their family just too stressful for him? Did it bring up unwanted memories? Why… Why did he run off?

You touch an older pirate’s arm, letting them know you’ll be right back. They smile and nod and pull you in for one last hug. It feels bittersweet. You dash off from the tavern back to camp.

When you arrive, he’s uncorking a second bottle of stolen alcohol, frowning and grumbling and pacing. He’s so deep in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice you’re there until you say his name. He frowns deeply at you. “Shouldn’t you be catching up with your family?” he asks, but it’s bitter and cold.

You frown. “I wanted you to meet them. Why’d you leave?”

He looks away, focusing instead on taking a long drink from the bottle. It’s had no time to air out; he almost grimaces at the flavor. He pretends to read the label. “It was getting a little crowded in there,” he dismisses.

“So you leave without saying anything?”

“Well,” he begins, drawn-out and sarcastic, creating a barrier between you and his emotions, “you were busy. I’d hate to get in the way.”

You huff. “Astarion, please, just tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing.” He scowls. He begins pacing again. “Nothing’s wrong! You’ve found your family again! I’m so happy for you.” He spits the word like it burns him to say it.

“Is that what this is about? My family?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?” you plead. “What’s wrong?”

“YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE!” He sighs at his outburst, glaring at the ground. His feet are locked to ground, refusing to move closer or further away - because he can’t decide which would be better. “Once this is over, once we figure out how to remove these tadpoles, you’re going to run back to the sea. To a ship, with your family. And I can’t follow.” He scowls at himself. He hates laying out his thoughts, his feelings. It feels too vulnerable. He feels exposed. “You won’t stay on land.”

You won’t stay with me.

A silent war wages on in your head and in your heart. You’re torn in two directions - forced to choose between the people who raised you, the last fragments of your father and his ship, or Astarion, your vampiric lover. It’s painful.

You step forward slowly, like he’s going to startle and run away like a frightened rabbit. He doesn’t move. And he doesn’t look at you. The bottle in his hand feels too heavy.

“I love my family,” you start. You can see in an instant as his walls come back up. His face, still upset and angry, becomes stoic and defensive. “And I love the sea.” You stop in front of him. “And I love you.”

He closes his eyes, prepared for the rejection.

“I… I had a whole life on the ocean.” Your fingers brush his hand. It twitches involuntarily, wishing to hold you, for just one last moment. When he doesn’t pull away, you tangle your fingers with his. “I want to see what a future on land would be like.”

He swallows. He opens his eyes, but he can’t look at you. He looks instead at your hand in his. “And when you decide a life on a ship is better than hiding in the shadows with me?”

You pull his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles. He watches longingly.

“If I decide to sail again,” you accentuate your words with a kiss to the meat of his thumb, “I’ll come back. Over and over again. I’ll sail for a week and stay with you for a month. I’ll sail a month and stay with you a year. I love you, Astarion. And I will always choose you. And when we find a cure for vampirism, you can come with me.”

He huffs a laugh. “I’d be a poor excuse for a pirate.”

“You can scrub the deck.”

He finally meets your eyes with a playful scowl. It softens into something quiet and sad. “I don’t want to tear you from your family.”

You shake your head, stepping even closer. “You’re not, I promise. Now that I know they’re alive, I’ll be damned if I don’t keep in touch. But all they know is the sea. They have no reason to stay ashore - they’re heading out with a new captain next week.” You cup his cheek with your free hand. He sighs and leans into the touch. “I want to stay on land for a while longer.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnloveslokiredacted @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @bloopthebat @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @cherifrog

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Note

Perhaps a Fucksgiving prompt: Joel, in grey sweatpants. (I can't be the only one so affected by grey sweats, right?!) Doesn't even matter what universe it's in because I think it could work in Lavender, Yearling, or NIT. Or something new. Just...have fun with it, lol.

AHHH BESTIE!!!

I love this, thank you so much for this ask. So here's NIT!Joel being an absolute fucking menace in gray sweatpants.

LOVE YOU!!

Fucksgiving 2K23: Gray Sweatpants

Joel makes an... interesting wardrobe choice for Thanksgiving dinner prep. A New in Town BestFriend'sDad!Joel drabble that can be read as a stand alone.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (both from New in Town)

Warnings: SMUT :D No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 1.8k

“It’s too early for this,” you groaned, face down in your pillow. “It’s supposed to be a holiday…”

Joel chuckled, his large, warm hand spreading over the bare skin of the small of your back.

“You stay in bed,” he pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades. “I’m the one who decided to smoke a turkey.”

“No,” you sighed, turning your head against the pillow so your voice wasn’t muffled anymore. “Not going to make you get up on your own. Just do me a favor and start the coffee?”

He laughed again.

“Whatever you say, Beautiful.”

You listened to Joel getting dressed for a moment before you forced yourself to get out of the warm, comfortable bed.

You loved Thanksgiving with the Millers. So many traditions, so many delicious foods, so many people you loved who loved you back. But the smoked turkey thing was new and, as it turned out, you’d been a lot more excited about it in theory than in practice. Morning sex was not an option when your boyfriend needed to be cooking before 8 a.m. Joel had gotten you some cute festive pajamas, at least - not that he ever left your clothes on long once you were in bed - and you pulled on the orange plaid pants and matching thermal before toying with your hair enough that it wasn’t a disaster and shuffling to the kitchen.

The coffee pot’s brew cycle was just sputtering to an end when you got there and you pulled down a mug, pouring yourself a big cup and adding Irish cream before making Joel a cup of his own. You glanced at the clock. 7:18 a.m. Joel was never allowed to smoke a turkey again, you decided. Being up this early on Thanksgiving was a bridge too far.

“You look exhausted,” Joel laughed as you squinted against the morning light.

“You’d be exhausted, too, if you’d gone out with Sarah and her high school friends last night,” you groaned, passing him his favorite chipped mug, the one with an owl on it. “I swear, I feel like I’m still in my 20s and then I go bar hopping…”

You made your way over to a lounge chair by the pool and plopped down on it, taking a long sip of coffee. As the caffeine settled over you, you actually opened your eyes and took in the golden fall morning, the sun reflecting off the pool, the crisp air, the smell of wood chips as Joel got the smoker running, the outline of your boyfriend’s huge cock clearly visible through his gray sweatpants.

You damn near choked on your mouthful of coffee when you noticed it, shooting up from the lounge chair coughing and sputtering. Joel frowned, watching you.

“You alright over there?” He asked.

“Oh I’m fucking great,” you coughed, beating on your chest a bit to get the rest of the coffee down. “You’re getting changed before Sarah comes over, right?”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” his frown deepened. “She’s bringing cinnamon rolls over in…” he glanced at his watch. “‘Bout an hour or so. Was just gonna wear this until closer to dinner. Why?”

“Because, babe, I’m pretty sure I can tell from here whether or not you’re circumcised and that’s not because I had your cock in my mouth last night.”

Joel’s eyes went wide and he looked down before looking over at you again.

“They’re just sweatpants, baby.”

You snorted.

“They’re gray sweatpants,” you replied. “Those are an entirely different animal.”

Joel’s frown deepened.

“What? Why?” He asked. “They’re… they’re sweatpants!”

“You really don’t know this?” You laughed a little. He shrugged, still looking at you like you were just a bit crazy. “Oh, babe…”

You set your cup of coffee down and went over to him, looking him up and down.

Yeah, you got to see Joel every day. You lived together, after all, and moving in together hadn’t exactly lessened your sex drives. The only day you hadn’t fucked in recent memory was when you had a stomach flu and you were too sick to have anything going into you, including Joel. But you still loved to look at him, at his shaggy, graying hair; at his soft, brown eyes; at his strong, broad chest. Even without the… advantageous sweatpants, you’d been enjoying the view. He might have been in a threadbare Texas Longhorns shirt that was probably the same age as Sarah he managed to look fucking gorgeous in it, the shoulders stretched a little tight and the sleeves a bit snug on his thick biceps, the outline of his soft stomach just visible through the drape of the fabric.

“Let me demonstrate,” you said, locking your eyes on his and reaching down to trace over his cock through the fabric, starting at his tip with the lightest pressure. He gasped softly when you made contact with him and you smiled ever so slightly. “I can tell your head starts right here…” He moaned a little and you ran your fingers down to the ridge of him, tracing back and forth over the flare of his tip. “And that it ends right here.”

“Fuck, beautiful…”

You smiled and moved lower, down his shaft.

“Can tell just how big you are,” you said, voice breathy. He moaned and you kept going until you were at the base of him, tracing him there, too, before wrapping your hand around him as best you could with the fabric between you, starting to stroke him. He whimpered, dropping his head to your shoulder. “And I can tell that you’re getting hard…”

“Not giving me much choice in that, Beautiful,” he groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

You took your hand back.

“But you’ve got a bird to smoke so…”

You turned to go grab your coffee again, smirking once your back was to him. But Joel reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back into him with a needy grunt.

“Don’t know where you think you’re goin’…” he growled, pulling you tight against him, so tight you could feel his hardening length on your stomach.

“Me?” You said, feigning innocence. “I just don’t want to be in the way of the chef…”

“Shoulda thought of that sooner,” he kissed you firmly, desperately, his tongue opening your mouth and sliding inside. You kissed him back until he pulled away from you, breathless. “Gotta make this quick…”

He took your hand and pulled you in the house and you laughed as he started tugging at your shirt the second you were in from the cool morning air. He tossed it on the couch and his mouth was almost immediately on your breast, sucking and licking at you as he maneuvered you back toward the couch. He pushed your pants and panties down as he did and you stepped out of them, leaving them in a pile on the floor. You pulled at Joel’s shirt and he almost reluctantly pulled his lips from you as you exposed his chest. He nudged you down onto the couch so you were sitting on the middle cushion and he spread your legs wide before shoving his pants to the floor.

Joel knelt between your thighs and hooked his hands in the crease of your knees, pulling your ass to the edge of the cushion as you let out a surprised yelp. He notched his head against your dripping hole and took hold of your thighs before thrusting fully into you in one sharp, firm motion.

“Fuck!” You moaned, the stretch of him burning in the most satisfying way.

“This what you were tryin’ to get me to do?” He panted as he fucked into you, fingers sinking into your flesh. “Tryin’ to get me to fuck you silly? That it?”

“Fuck, yes!” You groaned and he slid one hand to your lower stomach, his thumb finding your clit as fingers spread wide over your skin. He pressed down on you and the sensation of him filling you grew impossibly stronger. You could feel his hand pushing on where his cock was opening you and your body was already getting tight and hot and needy. “Fuck, Joel, holy shit…”

“Gonna fill you up real good, Beautiful,” his voice was strained. “Leave you so fuckin’ full of me, make you feel it all day.”

You moaned at his words, at his thumb working you, at the slide of his thick, heavy cock as he pushed deep into you.

“I’m gonna come, Joel,” you panted, all but squirming below his touch. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna…”

“Do it,” he fucked into you even harder. “Come for me, come on my cock, want you to milk this cock, give it to me, Beautiful, fucking come for me.”

You obeyed, your hand flying to Joel’s forearm and digging your nails into him as your pussy fluttered and pulsed over him.

“There she is,” he fucked you through it. “Jesus Christ, feel so fuckin’ good, gonna fill you up Baby, leave you so full…”

He pressed deep, to the very end of you and you felt him spill deep inside you, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he filled you with rope after rope of his come.

“Fuck,” he moaned as your orgasms both ended and he collapsed onto you, his head on your chest as you both panted for breath. You scratched your fingers through his hair and you kissed the top of his head, breathing in the fresh, clean smell of him that was now tinged with sex.

After a moment he sat up enough to kiss you deeply as he pulled himself out of you and he got to his feet. He went to the bathroom and came back with a washcloth, gently cleaning your messy slit.

“Just because I probably shouldn’t say this around your entire family, can I say that I’m thankful for your dick?” You teased.

Joel laughed, shaking his head.

“I’m just thankful for you,” he said, leaning over and kissing you. “Pussy’s a bonus.”

He passed you your clothes before gathering his own. He put on his shirt and underwear but tossed his sweatpants over his arm before heading back toward the bedroom.

“What…” you began, but he cut you off.

“Clearly can’t trust you around the gray sweatpants,” he teased. “Better change before you got me worried about a different kind of stuffing…”

You groaned as you pulled on your shirt.

“Oh shit, I forgot, you still have to actually get the turkey in the smoker!”

He laughed.

“Don’t worry, Beautiful,” he said. “Think that was worth dinner starting a bit late. Might have to make it a new Thanksgiving Day tradition.”

You laughed, too.

“We just might.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #kit answers #send asks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #new in town #smut fic #fucksgiving #joel miller x oc

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