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smutstevington · 7 months

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Resensitized (part 2) | Eddie Munson x Reader

(Find part one here)

Summary: Oh, how the tables have turned. Your porn star roommate is getting a little distant and weird after your night together. But don't worry - his attempts at avoiding you won't last long.

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI!!! Smut (pwp), Pornstar!Eddie x Fem Reader, no use of y/n or defining characteristics, Eddie is a soft dom but has a kink for reader, grinding, pining, reader tempts Eddie and is kind of a BAMF, protected PIV sex, oral fem receiving, fingering, male self-gratification, hickies, communication/consent is sexy, things get very sweet at the end

A/N: Okay so you all loved part one and wanted more so...here we go! I tried to add what I saw requested - sub Eddie, some of his POV, the date, etc. By the way, I read ALL comments and tags, because they make me so happy. So, thank you to everyone who left feedback on part one and I hope this lives up to the hype?? xx

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Wait, did he just say-?

“What?” you asked, your eyes wide. His face fell.

“Uhh, shit.” He let out a breathy laugh, then jumped out of bed to put his clothes back on. “That was, uh - I don’t know why I said that.”

As you watched him hurriedly step into his boxers, face flushed and hair a mess, you couldn’t help but notice that you’d never seen him flustered like this before. Sure, during sex, his usual composure was blown to bits by the end, but this was different.

You’d heard about the concept of “post-nut clarity” before- men who think something is a good idea when they’re horny, then immediately regret it after the fact. But you weren’t offended by Eddie’s nerves, because you knew this wasn’t him regretting that he’d had sex with you.

It was him freaking out because he enjoyed it.

Let’s be real - successfully getting Eddie to bust after he’d insisted he wouldn’t be able to made you feel like a goddess. So, instead of feeling rejected or vulnerable, you were riding high.

“You probably said it because you want to go on a date with me,” you teased, sitting up in the bed and swinging your legs over the edge.

Eddie looked at you, but he didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes traveled to your breasts, lingered for a moment, then widened.

“Oh, shit,” he said.

“What?”

He pointed at your chest, and when you looked down you saw several dark splotches on your skin. You chuckled.

“Well,” you responded with a sigh. “I think it was worth it. Any on my neck?”

“No! I was careful,” he replied. You eyed him accusingly. “I just got carried away at the end, there.” You smirked at each other, and you realized that despite the fact you’d had sex, the dynamic between you both hadn’t really changed. Not as much as you thought it would have, anyway.

“Well, luckily I stayed true to my word,” you replied, gesturing at his unblemished neck. He checked himself in your mirror to confirm, then nodded, impressed. You grabbed your robe from the floor and wrapped it around yourself, tying it until it was snug, then unintentionally began ogling the way his jeans hung low on his hips, his buttons and belt still undone.

“You see something you like, roomie?” he teased with a smirk. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

Your gaze snapped up to meet his as you bit your lip, guilty.

“Sorry, you’re hot,” you responded.

“And you’re drooling.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Eddie took a step forward to close the gap between you, then dragged the pad of his thumb across the skin just below the corner of your mouth. Once again, you were mesmerized by him, your lips parting at his touch. After his thumb finished traveling along the curve of your bottom lip, his hand found a home against your cheek.

“Eddie,” you said softly. “I would go on a date with you.”

His expression went through a series of small shifts - surprise, amusement, joy - then landed on cockiness, his lips pursed and brow raised.

“Good to know,” he replied. “We’ll, uh - We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, yeah?”

You were feeling incredibly sleepy, so you didn’t fight his avoidance of the subject. Besides, you lived together - you were bound to finish the conversation eventually.

“Okay,” you replied. “Night, Eddie.” He dropped his hand from your face, and you immediately shuddered at its absence

“Night, roomie.”

He didn’t kiss you, even though you very much wanted him to. You wanted him, in all capacities. As a roommate. As a friend. As more than that. You couldn’t quite comprehend it all in your tired state, though, so you let him leave. You heard his footsteps trail off down the hall, and you swore you heard a hesitation before his bedroom door creaked closed behind him.

Fuuuuuuuucking hell.

Eddie wasn’t supposed to feel like this. This wasn’t how he did things. He didn’t like this.

Eddie closed his bedroom door and wished he hadn’t. He wished he’d instead stayed in your room and held you while you fell asleep and maybe fucked you a few more times because oh my god????

That was amazing. So amazing he’d nearly forgotten how the whole thing started.

He’d told you it wouldn’t mean anything. He’d told you that it wasn’t a big deal. That it was simply transactional and nothing else.

He stayed there with his back against the door, breathing rapidly, hearing you walk down the hall and hoping you were coming to him. Instead, you went to the bathroom. He heard the toilet flush, then the sink running, then the sound of you brushing your teeth.

You lived together. You were friends who signed a lease and who got along and had a good thing going and Eddie felt like he screwed it all up.

He clutched his chest and let it rise and fall against his hand, his heart pounding beneath his ribs.

Just calm down, idiot. You’re acting crazy.

He’d grown to care about you quite a bit since you’d moved in together. He loved any time schedules lined up and you got to spend time together. He loved joking around with you, and the way you let him be completely himself with no judgment. He loved how nervous you were around him after you watched his videos for the first time. That was probably his first clue that he kind of maybe liked you as more than a friend or a roommate. His second clue was less of a clue and more of a neon sign.

Sex hadn’t meant anything to Eddie in a long time. Now it meant everything.

Unsurprisingly, you slept better that night than you had in months. You woke up with the sun streaming in through the windows, fresh as a daisy.

You loved this apartment. You loved your room. You loved your roommate.

You didn’t love him like that. Actually, maybe you did. Or maybe he was just so good at sex you were getting your feelings confused.

It was still early - Eddie would probably be asleep for a few more hours. It’s one of the reasons why you didn’t see each other much - you woke up early, made breakfast, then left to work or run errands, and he slept in until the early afternoon, worked or rehearsed with his band, then stayed up late practicing guitar or playing video games with online friends in his room.

You walked into the kitchen to get a pot of coffee ready, then made yourself a bowl of cereal. You checked your phone to see that your horrible Tinder date had messaged you again.

Had a lot of fun with you last night. Would you wanna do it again?

Hmm. What was the classiest and least hurtful way to say, absolutely the fuck not??

To be honest, you’d forgotten him already, even though it had only been about twelve hours since you’d hooked up. He was entirely irrelevant, now. Every other partner you’d ever had paled in comparison to Eddie. That was just a fact.

Then, you realized you’d never told your friend what happened. You had passed out so immediately you hadn’t had the chance.

HEY GUESS WHAT

WHAT

I FUCKED MY ROOMMATE

Naturally, she called you pretty much immediately.

“Tell me everything, spare no details,” she greeted. You looked down the hall to see Eddie’s door still closed.

“I don’t want him to hear me,” you told her.

“Wait, are you still in bed? Did this happen just now?”

“No, it was last night,” you answered, holding your phone to your ear with your shoulder so you could carry your coffee and cereal to your room. You closed the door with your foot and set everything on your desk, then sat down with a sigh. “It was the best sex I’ve ever had, no contest.”

“I’m sooooo jealous,” your friend replied. You laughed. “So, how did it start?” You sipped your coffee and leaned back in your chair, happy to recount the memory.

“Well, I - that guy from Tinder came over, and it ended up being extremely underwhelming, and Eddie picked up on it because - um, anyway, he wanted to help me out, I guess?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for so long, you wondered if the call dropped.

“I have so many questions,” she finally said. “Why did he pick up on it?”

“He heard my fake noises through the wall,” you answered.

“He was listening?” she asked, a flirtatiously quality to my voice.

“Said he was curious.”

“Hmmmm.” You already knew what your friend was thinking. “And then he wanted to prove he was better than Tinder boy.”

“Yes.” She waited for you to continue, so you did. “He was all about communicating and doing exactly what I wanted him to do.”

“Hot,” she responded. “Did you - I mean, did he get you to - you know?”

“Yup,” you replied. “Four times.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Oh my God!”

“I know!!”

You realized that you were raising your voice, and you didn’t want to wake Eddie through the thin walls, so you calmed yourself down.

“So, what happens now?” your friend asked. “You’re going to hook up again, right? You have to. Do it for me, if nothing else.”

“Trust me, it wouldn’t just be for you,” you replied. “And I think we will. I mean, I know we will, but - well, he kind of asked me on a date after.”

“He WHAT?!”

“I was confused too!” you told her. “We’re going to talk about it more today.”

“You absolutely have to go on that date,” she said.

“Duh.” You laughed, but were interrupted by a light knock on your door. You brought your voice to a whisper. “Shit, he’s at the door. Talk to you soon.”

You put your phone down on the desk, took a deep breath and walked to the door, then opened it.

Eddie was fiddling with his rings, one corner of his mouth raised into a smile.

“You’re up early,” you noted.

“You were yelling,” he explained, his smile turning into a smirk.

“That was not yelling,” you replied. “God, these walls are too thin.”

“That is how we got into this whole mess, isn’t it?” he teased, walking into your room and looking around as if it had changed since the night before.

“It’s a mess?” you asked. He turned around and shrugged.

“I was up all night thinking about it,” he began. “I just - it’s not a good idea - you and me starting something, I mean. It won't end well.” You laughed and rolled your eyes. “What?”

“You were the one who asked!” you pointed out. “Way to dangle the carrot in front of my face and pull it away.” He ran his hand through his hair and smiled, bashful.

“There’s a joke in there somewhere where the carrot is my dick.” You rolled your eyes again.

“God, Munson, get your head out of the gutter for once,” you told him. “If it’s a bad idea, why did you ask me in the first place?”

He looked down at you, and you realized that he was wrong. It had changed things, because he’d never looked at you like this before. In an instant, he snapped out of it - clearing his throat and shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “Look, I like you. I like living with you. And you’re kinda my closest friend right now.”

“I thought you were used to fucking your friends, though,” you countered, referencing a statement he’d made in what felt like eons ago.

“I was,” he responded.

Two words, and yet he’d said everything he’d needed to say for you to understand the rest of his thought - I was that way, but I guess I’m not anymore. Not with you.

Well, fuck. He had a point, as much as you hated it. Hooking up with your roommate was a recipe for disaster, usually. It was why you’d resisted the idea for as long as you had.

“Okay,” you sighed. “So, I’m your closest friend, and you don’t want to mess with that.”

“Exactly,” he agreed. You both stood there awkwardly, not really knowing where to go from there. Finally, he puffed out his cheeks and exhaled deeply. “I’m gonna go smoke.” You crumpled your face in disgust.

“Cigarettes are a bad habit,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, but I’ve got an oral fixation,” he replied.

“Oh, I know.”

He was stunned for a moment, and then you caught him fighting a smile. His tongue grazed across his upper teeth, and then he nodded.

“I guess you would,” he responded at last. He went to leave, but paused with one hand grasping the door frame and the other giving you a halfhearted salute. “Catch ya later, roomie.”

Then, he was gone. The conversation didn’t go at all the way you’d wanted it to, but whatever. It was for the best, probably. When you returned to your desk, you saw that your friend had never hung up. You brought the phone to your ear and shook your head.

“You’re too nosy for your own good,” you told her.

“He likes you,” she said.

“Yeah, but you heard him,” you continued. “It’s not happening.”

“Bullshit,” she argued. “That man is obsessed with you. You’ve totally got him hooked, but he’s pushing you away because he’s scared. It’s a tale as old as time, babe. You live together. Any attempts he has at getting over you are doomed to fail.” You laughed, then resumed eating.

“I don’t want to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you said.

“You’re not,” she assured you. “You’re reminding him that he should do the thing he very much wants to do.”

“Maybe.”

“Please,” she begged. “For me. Otherwise I’ll just hear you pine about it some more, and it’s entirely avoidable.”

“Fine,” you agreed. She squealed into the phone.

“Yay!” You smiled against your coffee mug, then realized you’d actually taken one of Eddie’s this morning. “As always, keep me posted.”

“I will.”

She was probably right. Okay, she was right. Relationships and dating were things you had long given up on, ever since your horrific breakup. But one thing you knew about yourself was that, once you found someone you liked, you weren’t able to just…stop thinking about them.

So, you decided to be a little sneaky. You wouldn’t do anything crazy, you’d just give him a few reminders on what he was missing out on. He liked you, and you liked him, and you knew with 100% certainty that you could get him to break.

You had this in the bag.

Eddie was losing his mind.

For a few weeks, everything went back to normal. You were extremely level-headed, and things were how they’d always been between you. As if that one night had never happened. Which, granted, is exactly what he’d asked for, but he didn’t like it.

He thought about you all the time. He lingered in the kitchen and kept his door open on the off chance that you’d want to talk to him. He felt like a goddamn fucking idiot, honestly. It wasn’t even about the sex, he just wanted to be around you. He wanted to make you laugh. He wanted to make you blush.

But, more often than not, you were doing those things to him instead of the other way around.

He would walk into the kitchen and see you wearing an oversized t-shirt and no pants, reaching for something on the top shelf enough for the shirt to lift and reveal your cotton panties. He’d try not to stare, but he would anyway, and he’d fight the urge to fall to his knees and sink his teeth into your skin.

He wanted to literally bite you on the ass. What the actual fuck was that about.

You’d sense his presence and look over your shoulder to confirm your suspicions, then smirk.

“Good morning,” you’d say.

“Morning,” he’d respond, already fighting a hard-on.

And you knew exactly what you were doing. You knew that it killed him every time you asked him to zip up your dress. You knew it made him blush when you’d come home on hot summer days and walk around in a sports bra and shorts. You knew his heart skipped whenever your playful banter turned flirtatious. You knew why his eyes focused on the edge of your coffee mug after you took a sip - because your lips had just been there. You had to know.

And then, one fateful night, he dreamt of you.

He was at work, except you were the only other person there. He was confused at first, but then you told him that you were the one he was paired with that day. He nodded, but it felt different than all the other times he’d been told the same thing about other people. He took his shirt and pants off and tried to touch you, but you backed away, tutting and waving your finger at him.

“Not this time,” you said. “I don’t want you to do anything unless I tell you to. Lie down.”

So, he did. He swallowed and felt his heart rate skyrocket when you climbed on top of him and rocked yourself against him. You were moaning, your eyes closed and lips parted. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you, but you weren’t going to let him. You kept your hand on his chest, holding him down, biting your lip.

“Can I -?”

“Shh,” you cooed, focused on what you were doing. “Don’t talk.”

His cock stiffened as you continued to grind on it, and the feeling was indescribable. Your motions picked up, your hips rocking faster and faster, your moaning turning higher pitched and less controlled.

He watched you - beautiful, sexy, incredible you - and felt the familiar feelings of his own orgasm building within him. Any moment now and he would -

“Fuck!” you cried out, your composure fully unraveling and your movements stuttering. He spilled onto his stomach immediately, feeling the warmth of that and himself and you all around him. You crashed down onto the bed, still breathing heavily, and pulled him into you.

“Thank you,” you said, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

Suddenly, he jolted awake in his bed, eyes wide.

He was sweating a little bit, but thankfully hadn’t jizzed in his boxers. He was grateful to keep up his streak of no wet dreams since his teenage years, especially since he shared a bathroom and washer/dryer with you. That would have been mortifying.

Seriously. What the fuck were you doing to him???

He decided he needed yet another cold shower - he’d been taking a lot of them recently. One would think that him still having sex with other people through all of this would have helped his situation, but it was actually quite the opposite. He didn’t want them, he wanted you. Besides, the sex he was having was for work. He did try once to hook up with one of the other actors after hours, but even that didn’t curb his desire for you in the slightest.

He probably should have anticipated running into you on his way to the bathroom, considering you lived together and all, but somehow it took him by surprise.

“Hello,” you called to him casually from the kitchen.

“Uh, hi,” he said, awkwardly standing in the hallway. He saw you sitting there, fully clothed and doing literally nothing remotely sexy, but he blushed anyway as if you were.

“If you’re about to shower, just know there’s something wrong with the water heater,” you informed him.

“That’s okay,” he replied, perhaps too quickly. “I, uh - I don’t mind.” You put your phone down and looked in his direction, suspicious.

“Okay, weirdo,” you teased. “Anyway, I tried to talk to the landlord but I think he likes you better, so -”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll give him a call,” Eddie said. He pointed at the bathroom awkwardly and nodded. “I’m gonna - uh - yeah.”

Way to go, idiot. She totally knows something is going on with you.

He couldn’t worry about that yet, though. By the time he shut the bathroom door, his dick was so hard he had no choice but to deal with it. He hadn’t been this out of control horny since he was going through puberty. His face was red and his bottom lip was chapped from biting it so much. He stifled his grunts and groans to the best of his abilities, leaving the water running to mask the sound of him jerking off.

It didn’t take long. It never did when he was thinking about you.

The shower was in fact cold, but he was too busy trying to figure out what he was gonna do to notice the temperature that much. He didn’t come up with anything by the time he was finished washing up, or even after drying himself off. He put a pair of pants on and opened the door, just to jump at the sight of you waiting for him by his room.

“You’re being weird,” you told him.

Yeah. There was no denying that fact.

“I know.” You continued, taking a step closer to him.

“You’re acting like I did when -”

“I know.” You eyed him with a smirk, then gestured for him to follow you to the kitchen. He did so blindly, even though he wasn’t sure why you needed a location change. Honestly, he would have followed you anywhere.

“Okay, let’s talk about it,” you said, drying off the last of the dishes beside the sink. Ah. So that’s why you needed to be in the kitchen. “Did something happen? Did you find one of my videos?”

“Do you have any?” Eddie asked. He didn’t mean for it to sound desperate. He honestly was curious. But, combined with everything else, that’s how it came off.

“No,” you answered. “Not yet, anyway. So, spill. What happened?” Eddie took a deep breath and leaned with his back to the counter beside you.

“I had a sex dream about you.” You burst out laughing, your eyes squinting so much he could see the crinkles around them. He smiled, joining in with your laughter. “Don’t laugh at me!” You calmed yourself down and shook your head.

“It’s cute! That’s all,” you said. “We’ve all been there, Eds. Was this last night?” He nodded. “First one?” He nodded again. “But you’ve been acting weird around me a lot lately.”

“Woah there, detective,” Eddie replied, his hands up in defense. “What’s with the interrogation?”

“You told me I could ask you anything,” you responded. Eddie groaned, realizing he had in fact said that. Fuck. “Does the dream have something to do with the moaning that was coming from the bathroom just now?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. Fuck these paper-thin walls. This was worse than the time he popped a boner in math class. You stared back at him, smug, and he narrowed his eyes at you. Making people flustered like this was his move, dammit.

“So, what if it was?” he asked with a shrug. You rolled your eyes.

“Just admit that you have a crush on me.” Eddie couldn’t believe how bold you were being. Once again, that was traditionally his move. The tables were turning, and it made his heart race in a way he hadn’t experienced before. Your eyebrows furrowed at his silence. “Um, sorry. Maybe I had this all wrong -”

“I absolutely, 100% have a crush on you,” Eddie answered. “That’s not a secret though. I’ve been down bad since we - I mean, you know. And it’s fucking annoying. I feel like an idiot for telling you I didn’t want to go out with you. I thought that repressing it was for the best, and maybe it is, but at this point I reeeeally don’t think I can hold out much longer. No help from you and your refusal to wear pants around here anymore, by the way. It’s like you’re trying to rile me up.”

You looked down at your oversized sweater and exposed legs, then smiled.

“That’s exactly what I was trying to do,” you admitted. “I’m glad it worked.”

“That’s mean,” he replied, smirking. “You’re mean.”

“Yeah, but you have a crush on me, sooooo….” He chuckled, then shoved you playfully against the arm.

“Yeah, whatever,” he responded. “Congratulations, roomie - you’ve ruined me. Let’s go on a fucking date.” You smiled, big and bright, then bit your lip. Eddie realized he’d do anything to make you smile like that any chance he got.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You settled on going out to dinner. Nothing groundbreaking, but a date’s a date. Eddie originally suggested going to the arcade and playing laser tag, but you told him that was more of a third date kind of thing.

Secretly, you both already knew that a third date would happen, so you didn’t stress the first. It was all a formality, anyway. A symbol instead of a step. Like, you already were close friends who lived together, and you’d already had sex. So it felt like you were going in reverse more than anything.

At least that’s how you thought it would feel. Instead, it felt perfectly natural - as if this was a normal situation that went in a normal order. You laughed, you people-watched, you flirted, and all was well.

“Your place or mine?” he teased after he’d paid the check.

“Mine,” you answered. “I don’t have sex on the first date, Edward.” Eddie snickered.

“Bullshit,” he replied. You smirked, then got your purse as you both stood up from the table. He took your hand to walk you out of the restaurant, and neither of you even really noticed you’d never done that before.

“I’m serious, actually,” you responded. “I mean, I used to be that way. Before I moved here and had that one night stand.”

“That godawful one night stand,” he reminded you. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well it led to us hooking up, so at least something good came from it.”

“Yeah, you did,” he said with a grin. “Four times, if I recall correctly?” You blushed, biting your lip at the memory.

“Has anyone ever told you how humble you are?” you joked. He laughed, nudging his shoulder into yours.

“Not once,” he responded.

It was a quick drive home, and conversation continued to flow easily. You were talking about some movie you’d both seen as a kid when you walked through your front door, and you’d nearly forgotten that you had just come from a date. None of it felt new, somehow.

“Well, I’d say that was pretty successful,” you said once there had been long enough of a silence. You went to grab yourself a glass of water at the sink, when Eddie said something behind you that sent a chill down your spine.

“Do I get to kiss you goodnight?”

You spun around to face him, then nodded. He closed the gap between you and put a hand at the small of your back, then laid his other hand against your cheek, his fingers wrapping around to the back of your neck. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours - slowly, gently, respectfully.

The moment you kissed back, his composure broke. He breathed you in, parting his lips to deepen the kiss, tightening his grip on you. Your arms went over his shoulders so you could be even closer to him. His tongue grazed your lower lip, then dove past it to lick the roof of your mouth. You moaned unintentionally, then broke from him just enough to speak.

“Woah,” you said, your head spinning.

“Sorry,” he replied, putting his forehead against yours. “Too much?”

“Not at all,” you answered. “How long have you wanted to do that?”

“Too long,” he responded, breathlessly. “Too goddamn long.” You gave him another peck on the lips, then cherished the way he chased you when you didn’t go back in for more.

“You want me again?” you asked him, softly. He nodded.

“Yes.”

“Now?” you asked, as if you didn’t already know the answer. You could already feel him stiffening against you.

“Always.”

Within moments, his lips were on yours. His hands quickly tangled in your hair and pulled you deeper into him, your bodies flush with one another. He walked you backward until your ass hit the kitchen counter, then wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and lifted you up so you were seated. His hands abandoned the small of your back and went to your thighs, spreading them apart so he could stand between them. All the while he kissed you and touched you and and breathed into you.

“I want to make you feel good,” he said. He was so close to your skin, you could feel the vibrations of his words. “Please let me make you feel good again.”

He nipped at your earlobe, causing you to shudder. Your eyes flashed up to the ceiling, all other thoughts fading away.

“You are,” you responded breathlessly. “You do.”

The confirmation seemed to only motivate him even more. His fingers began trailing up your skirt as he dropped to the floor, a frenzied desire in his eyes.

Ohhh lord. Seeing him on his knees for you turned you on more than you could have ever anticipated.

“Please,” he begged, placing a quick kiss on your thigh. While it was tempting, you didn’t really want to have sex in the place where you prepared food.

“Yes,” you permitted. “But not here.”

“Why not?” he whined. “I eat here all the time.” You kicked him playfully, rolling your eyes.

“That’s gross,” you said. He stood up, grinned, and held his hand out for you to take.

“Tell me it’s gross in two minutes when I have you screaming my name again.” Your breath hitched as you took his hand and followed him to your room - you might have gone to his room instead this time, had it not been ten feet further away. You didn’t want to waste a single moment.

“You’re dangerous, Eddie Munson.”

“That’s what they tell me,” he replied with a smirk. “Now, take off your clothes and pick a number.” You were confused, but did as told anyway.

“Uhh, 7?” you said as you lifted your dress over your head. His eyes bore into the newly revealed parts of you - your stomach and chest and legs.

“Pssh, easy,” he said, his gaze still fixed to you. “Let’s get this out of the way, too.” His arms went around you to unfasten your bra.

“What’s the number mean?” you wondered, shivering at his touch. Your bra fell to the floor beside your feet.

“Oh, it’s the number of times I’m gonna make you come,” he replied casually. Your eyes widened.

“What?!” In an instant, his hands groped at your breasts while his lips went back to your neck. “Eddie, I - mf,” you murmured, already succumbing to his influence. “What if I’d chosen a higher number?” Eddie broke away from your neck to look into your eyes with a smirk. You jolted when his thumb and forefinger flicked across your nipple.

“Then we would have to be here for a while,” he said. “Do you wanna change your answer?”

You stared at him, dumbly, unable to comprehend how you’d found yourself in a situation this perfect.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” you replied.

So, he did. One hand grabbed and pulled at your hair while he kissed you passionately. Then, he kissed down your jaw, to your collarbone, between your breasts, on your stomach. He left a trail of fire all the way down to your panties, your core already throbbing for him. Once he was back on his knees, he yanked your underwear down to your ankles and lifted one of your feet so you could spread your legs apart.

His mouth was on you in seconds. No time for teasing. As he licked up your slit, you searched for something to hold onto. The only thing around was him, so you grabbed a hold for dear life, gripping a fistful of his hair. He groaned in pleasure as he tasted you, and you felt your knees buckling. He slipped a finger into you as his tongue swirled circles around your clit. He pulsed in and out of you, and your eyes rolled back into your head. You felt yourself cresting over the edge as your fingers tangled in his hair, and before you knew it you were losing your balance and falling to your knees across from him. While his head had separated from you, his finger remained buried inside you, undulating against your g-spot.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” you muttered. You could tell that your first orgasm was just prefacing your second. “Don’t stop.” You shifted yourself until you could lie on your back against the floor. Eddie threw one of your legs over his shoulder and continued eating you out as he fingered you. Your hips grinded against him of their own accord as you moaned and squirmed beneath him.

And then you felt that tightening deep in your stomach - just as you’d suspected - and all of a sudden you were shaking and exploding with pleasure, tears springing to your eyes.

“Fuck!” you shouted, quickly slapping your hands over your mouth to keep quiet. Eddie used his free hand to tug your arms away from your face, tutting in disapproval.

“Don’t censor yourself, sweets,” he cooed. “I want to hear you scream.” He added another finger inside you, stretching you out. You gasped in delight. “I’ve wanted to hear it ever since that first night,” he continued. He kept his hands on you but crawled forward so his mouth could reach your breasts. He kissed one, gently. “I was hearing that pitiful excuse for sex through the walls and all I could think about was how I could fuck you better, and how you’d sound when you weren’t faking it.” He sucked right beside the last remaining hickey from the first time he’d done this. Your back arched, your heart beating so fast you were practically vibrating.

“Eddie,” you moaned. “I need you inside me right now.”

“I am inside you,” he said, flexing his fingers in a way that made your hips roll against his hand. You shook your head and reached down to his jeans, grabbing his cock and running your hand up the shaft. He stiffened, his eyes closing and motions stuttering.

“This,” you clarified, tightening your grip. “I need this.” He groaned, then nodded.

“Fuuuuuuck, okay,” he said. He pulled his fingers out of you, licked them clean, stood up, pulled you up, then started stripping as you got a condom from your bedside table. By the time you’d retrieved it and turned around, he was fully naked and waiting eagerly to put it on. He ripped the foil open with his teeth and rolled it over his length, then sat you on the edge of the bed and lined himself up with your entrance. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, his eyes dark and pupils blown out. With a final nod of your permission, he thrust himself inside you all at once.

You whimpered, your mouth falling open at the feeling of him completely filling you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels crossed under his ass. He pushed himself in and out of you, guided by your feet, falling into a steady rhythm. You bit at his shoulder and neck, drawing groans of pleasure from his lips. You could feel his body getting warmer to the touch, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. You leaned back and laid down fully on the bed, and he quickly followed you. You both crawled further onto the bed until his body was stretched out and hovering over yours. You tightened your legs around him again and threw your head back, enjoying the way he continued pumping himself in and out of you.

“Tell me that nobody else fucks you like I do,” he said in a husky tone. Your eyes were closed to keep yourself from being entirely overstimulated.

“N-nobody,” you stuttered. “Nobody fucks me like you.”

Suddenly, he was kissing you, and you were kissing him back, and he was fucking you, and you were rocking your hips against him, and his thumb rubbed at your clit, and you were coming again, and he was coming with you. Your mouths were open against each other, gasping and shaking, and then your eyes opened.

He was looking at you, really looking. As you returned his gaze, you got lost in it all. His hips stalled with his cock buried deep in you, but neither of you dared to move. You just kept looking into each other's eyes, breathing deeply, and that’s when you realized that one of your hands was interlocked with his. You kissed him again, slowly and leisurely, before sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and biting it. He moaned softly, appreciatively, then sighed.

“I lied before, about having a crush on you,” he said. You raised your eyebrows, mind still reeling from the sex.

“Oh?”

“I think it might be more than that,” he explained. “I mean, it is more than that.” Your eyes widened.

“Oh.” He waited for you to respond. “Just - give me a minute. I’m still in outer space.” He flashed a small, crooked smile, then pulled out of you slowly. After he settled back into bed, you instinctively curled up next to him, which he happily accepted.

This was nice. This was better than nice. This was perfect.

“I know that because of my work -”

“It’s more than that for me, too,” you interrupted. You angled your head to look up at him.

“Yeah?” he asked. You nodded.

“And I don’t know how I’m gonna feel about dating someone who has sex with other people at work,” you continued. “But right now, I don’t care. Usually, I’d be jealous, but - but I’m not.”

“You really wanna give this a shot?” he wondered, desperately trying to hide his excitement. You nodded again, smiling.

“I don’t think we have much choice,” you replied.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie said, grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s do this, then.”

You kissed him on the cheek, then went back to cuddling up to his chest. He hummed, content.

He was pretty sure he loved you, but that was for another night. This night would be spent making you come another four times, as promised.

Eddie was always true to his word.

(Next part)

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

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rainbow-nerdss · 19 days

Text

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Enjoy this hit from the bucktommy pit I've fallen into over the past few days! 💙💙

“Eddie gave me a shovel talk, you know?” Tommy says, next time they get together. They're at Buck's again, and Buck is cooking for them. He drops the spatula at Tommy's announcement, spinning to look at him. “He what? Jesus, I am so sorry, he shouldn't have—” “It's fine,” Tommy assures him. “It was cute. He cares about you.” Buck snorts. “Sure. He hasn't scared you off, at least?” "Nah, trust me, I've sparred with the guy enough times to know I can take him if I need to.” Buck raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn't underestimate him. That guy knows how to fight dirty. Trust me. He's scrappy.” “Scrappy, huh?” Buck turns back to the pot and stirs it again. “Hey, come taste this?” He holds out a spoon. Tommy joins him at the stove, standing far closer than necessary, almost flush against Buck's back as he takes the spoon in his mouth, chews, and swallows. “Delicious,” he announces. “Is that Bobby's Chili?” Buck nods. "Yup!" “Man, he was always so secretive about that!” Tommy complains. “How'd you talk him into sharing?” “Pays to be the favorite, I guess!” Buck preens. “So, what? Eddie suddenly decided to go all white knight protecting my virtue now I'm dating a guy?” He asks, steering the conversion back around. Tommy leans against the countertop beside Buck. “Nah, nothing like that. He just said that… He reminded me, forcibly, that you're a good guy, and I should probably refrain from hurting you, if I can help it.” Privately, a part of Buck glows at the knowledge that Eddie did that for him, even while he plans to rip him a new one for interfering. “I should clarify, Evan. I'm not… I’ve mentioned Victor, right? My ex?” Buck nods, turning to face Tommy in order to give this his full attention. “He sort of… did a number on me. Meeting you, doing… this, it's great. I'm just not…” “You're not ready for something serious,” Buck realizes. Tommy nods. “But, what we've been doing so far…?” “Is great! The dates, the, uh… other stuff, all amazing, but—” “You just don't want anything more serious than that.” “Exactly. If that's a deal-breaker, I can—” “No!” Buck rushes, putting a hand on Tommy's chest. “I mean, this is good for me too. Takes some of the pressure off, actually.” Tommy visibly relaxes, and Buck takes a moment to turn down the heat on the stove, leaning further into his space. “You said you were a relationship guy,” Tommy says, clearly wanting to make a hundred percent sure. Buck does him the courtesy of taking a moment to consider his answer. “I used to think I was. I thought my options were either ‘serious relationship’ or ‘meaningless sex that left me feeling like crap’.” He steps closer, close enough that he can feel Tommy's breath ghost across his skin. “But lately I've been discovering the joys of things being… somewhere on a spectrum. Keeping things fluid.” “Yeah?” Tommy asks, moving even closer. They might as well be kissing now, but they aren't quite, just a hair between them. “Yeah,” Buck repeats. “Though,” he adds. “For the sake of clarity. When you say other stuff, is that referring to the flying lessons you still owe me, or—” Buck pulls away just a fraction, just enough to allow Tommy the opportunity to reach out and keep him there, pulling him back into a dizzying kiss.

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#my fic #911 fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #bucktommy #this fic will eventually be buddie but i'm having too much fun laying the groundwork #just vibe with me here

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sokoviansimp · 1 month

Text

Control

✒ Pairings: dom!wanda x subAgent!femreader, bestfriend!Nat x bestfriend!reader

✒ Summary: New experiences provide clarity and confusion as you begin your training with Wanda.

✒ Tags and Warnings: 18+! Mature themes, mind control, early dom/sub dynamics, enemies to lovers, slow burn

✒ Author's Note: sorry this took so long, I'm a slow writer and I was really sick for two weeks.

✒ Word Count: 8973

✒ Read Time: 20 minutes

Masterlist : Socials : Series Masterlist

After weeks of recovery, you were finally allowed to sleep in your own room. Though, to your surprise, all of your belongings were moved from your room at the SHIELD base to one inside the compound. The thought of being in another foreign place instead of the comfort of your familiar bedroom was almost as bad as knowing a team of agents had gone through all of your private things.

You were brought up to a room on the third floor. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but it had just so worked out that floor two housed the males on the team, and floor three had the females, which was just Wanda and Natasha, and now you. Nat wanted to keep you close during your recovery and introduction to the team. She also felt it was fitting for you to be close to Wanda if she was meant to be your mentor.

Nat made sure to show you around the entire floor as she introduced you to your new room, “I’m sure you’re tired so I won’t stay, but if you need anything I’m right down the hall, and Wanda is right next door,” she assured.

“Thanks, Nat,” you said genuinely, thankful for everything she’s done for you throughout this experience. She was the best friend you had and she always earned that position with the way she cared for you. The two of you were soulmates in a way that sometimes, only friends can be.

Once you were left alone in your room, you quickly realized how tired you truly were. It was late in the afternoon by this point and you had a long day as doctors came in and out to give you dismissal plans and best practices. While it wasn’t your typical bedtime yet, you decided that you’d rather get rest now so that you could have a full day back to the real world tomorrow.

As you moved around the room to get ready for bed, you appreciated the effort of whoever transported your things. It was clear that they attempted to put everything as closely as possible back to the way it was in your previous living arrangements. The room was a different layout so it was impossible to be exact, but you could tell that they put care in settling you in.

Even in the new environment, it felt nice to go through your nightly routine again. It really made the moment when you finally sunk down into the fresh sheets that much cozier. You put on some sitcoms from the 2000s, but you knew you’d fall asleep before it was over. The television was loud enough to understand with captions and soft enough to allow you to drift off to sleep as you wished.

About a week goes by as Nat familiarizes you with all of the amenities and protocols to get you adjusted as a permanent resident of the compound, and when she’s busy, she has Wanda take over. You notice that your tiredness isn’t improving at all. You’ve always been known for being chill and easygoing, and you always felt tired in some way, that was just normal for you. Since the incident, though, your exhaustion has felt like it’s grown tenfold. The doctors expected that you’d be nearing full recovery by 2 weeks, but you felt something must be off track.

By the end of the week; you’re getting sick of being babied, and even though you haven't fully recovered you think you might just go crazy without some fresh air. You didn’t make your way down to the kitchen for breakfast until almost 11:30am, where Wanda was already preparing lunch.

“Got a full night’s sleep?” Wanda sarcastically pondered aloud as you tiredly shuffled through the cabinets for some ceral.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you grogily answered as you added milk to your frosted flakes.

“Maybe you should go back to bed then,” Wanda suggested

As if the suggestion alone gave you a burst of energy, you sprung back, “Oh no. I am done laying around like a potato! I am not spending a single solitary second in my room until I get outside for some fresh air.” there was a beat of silence once you finished your short rant, as if Wanda felt like you needed a breather after your small outburst.

“Alright- Well we can go out back and work on controlling your powers,” she offered once the silence ran its course.

“Yes! Perfect!” you confirmed as you took the first bite of your cereal.

Once Wanda finished up her lunch, she sat across from you to eat in mostly silence. It was a comfortable silence though, the crunch of your cereal breaking it ever so slightly. The two of you sat there and scrolled on your phones until your food was finished. You thoroughly cleaned your plate while you waited for Wanda to finish up her meal.

Even though you were quite familiar with the compound, visiting Nat often. You had no idea what surrounded the area. Adversely, Wanda spent a lot of time exploring the terrain that the compound sat within, especially when she was first adjusting to her new home. She explored to take her mind off of the events that led her to reside at the compound and forget about the clinical aesthetic that lacked any personality or comfort. It gave her an outlet that felt like an escape from reality.

“Where are we going?” You felt like she was leading you to some secret secluded area where no one could hear you scream, and in a way, she was.

“To work on your control,” that wasn’t the answer you were looking for. So you did what you do best, offer a snarky response.

You huffed, “That’s exactly what someone would say before leading me to certain torture, where no one can hear me scream,” you said with a dramatic undertone.

She looked back at you, slightly chuckling, “If I wanted to torture you, I wouldn’t drag you all the way out here to do it,” she bit back confidently with a sly smile creeping up, giving you a shiver down your spine that you blamed on the wind.

The spot that she settled at overlooked a mountain in the distance with a river flowing between the perch where the two of you stood. By the lookout, there was a long log makeshift to act as a bench, which Wanda frequently used to sit and ponder her thoughts and feelings. No one else really knew this spot existed other than her, she never spoke about it or showed anyone else until now. She wasn’t too keen on showing you her sacred getaway spot, but it was the safest place she could think of to practice your powers.

You gushed over the gorgeous area as soon as the overlook became clear and revealed its true beauty. The trees became more sparse as you walked, and the view opened up for you showcasing the natural landscape, “Wow, this is- it’s beautiful out here. I never knew this spot existed.”

“Yeah, no one does and I’d like to keep it that way,” Wanda said pointedly, ensuring that you weren’t going to start blabbing about it to the entire compound. If Tony got wind of it, surely he’d start building infrastructure around it and Wanda would lose her favorite spot.

Your hands shot up in defense, “Of course, I won’t tell a soul,” you confirmed.

Wanda, with an unamused look in your direction, “Not even Natasha.”

“Oh. Yeah, uh. Well, glad you clarified. Not even Natasha. Where should we tell them we are?” You asked, trying to come up with a story now because you aren’t very good at lying or even withholding information from your best friend, especially if you have to think it up on the spot.

“They won’t ask.”

Unfortunately for you, even if she doesn't ask, chances are high that you’d offer up the information accidentally anyway. You needed to come up with a cover story now to get it out of the way so that you dont have to come up with an explanation on the spot, “Well, what if they do? I just feel like we should be on the same page here.” you pushed.

“Y/N, it’s not that deep. Just say that we went to the other side of the compound grounds. See the river here?” you nodded, shifting your focus to the flowing water, “It spills into a massive lake on the other side of the compound.”

You acknowledged her explanation and with that, you were able to carry on with whatever Wanda had planned for you. She didn't have a particularly thought-out plan in place, but she had an outline of the steps she figured you would need to go through to grasp control of your abilities.

In order to help you, she needed to know what she was working with and how much power you truly wielded. After plenty of hesitation from you and coaxing from her, you outstretched your arm toward the mountain, “Go on, give it everything you’ve got,” Wanda encouraged.

Try as you might, nothing happened. Your muscles tensed as you attempted to make something happen, but you were stood there looking like a fool, “It’s- nothing’s happening!” you grunted as you let your arm fall back down to your side in frustration.

Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle, “Wow, finally something you’re not perfect at on the first try.” she claimed.

This hit a bit of a soft spot for you, “Contrary to popular belief, Maximoff, I’m rarely good at anything on my first try. I spent countless hours of practice and training to be where I am today.”

“Try again then” Wanda responded plainly, not fully convinced of the pity card you were playing.

You outstretched your arm again, trying to make something happen, but nothing did. Frustration began taking over and you tried again, with all your might you were trying to make something, anything, happen.

Wanda saw the way you became aggravated and quickly put a stop to it when she noticed your face getting red. Even though she enjoyed watching you struggle, she was nervous the effort you were putting in could become a hazard if you suddenly released the right type of energy.

“Ok, that’s enough. Take a breather,” she said as she reached out to put your hand back at your side and gently rubbed your arm in a soothing motion to calm you down. You took a breath, gathering yourself back together.

“Let’s try this,” Wanda started as she captured your gaze, “Close your eyes,” she waited for you to follow suit, but you hesitated, afraid of the vulnerability, “come on. Just do it,” she pushed, and you starkly fell into line. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the way you jolted to follow her command.

“Good,” she approved, which brought that same tingle to your body from earlier. You’re not sure that you’ve ever heard praise leave her mouth directed your way. The redhead reached out with a featherlike touch and glided her pointer finger along your arm, “Now take a deep breath and focus on this feeling,” she moved from your left arm to the top of your neck, dragging down the middle of your back. It felt like your skin was on fire at this point, every small touch reverberating 10-fold across your body. “Feel how the energy in your body moves.” She practically whispered in a hushed tone.

You could feel it, everything was so sensitive. You weren’t sure if it was because you were actually paying attention to the way the air met your skin, or because of the way Wanda was gliding her fingers across, “Do you feel that?” Wanda questioned, barely audible so as to not break your concentration, causing you to slowly nod in confirmation as you continued to breathe slowly.

Removing her fingers from your skin, Wanda took a step back from you, “Now keep that same focus and raise your left arm out in front of you.” You did as you were told, slowly raising your arm and letting it hang until she gave further instruction, “Perfect, now shift that focus to your left hand. Don’t pay attention to anything else,” she stated firmly, “just my words and the feeling of energy flowing to your hand”

She could tell you were concentrating hard by the way your brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Now, imagine the energy flowing from the tips of your fingers. Concentrate everything to your hand and imagine it pushing out.”

You did as she said, and you were so focused on the feeling in your hand that any minuscule movement felt similar to a creaky floorboard. Soon enough, your hand started to tingle and you even felt the temperature begin to rise.

“That’s it, now push it through, get rid of it.” Wanda guided. You could feel the energy slowly reverberating from your hand in waves, it was slow at first but once it was out you quickly ramped up to a more sizable wave of low-frequency acoustic energy.

You were quickly losing control of it as the seismic waves grew quicker than you anticipated. Without even knowing what happened, you felt a comforting fog take over your mind, and your arm quickly dropped to your side. You stood there in complete bliss until the fog faded fully from your mind, “Y/N?” Wanda interrupted, “How are you feeling?”

You turned around to face her, “Tired,” you said with hooded eyes. Using your powers took a lot out of you, especially when you were already tired to begin with, “-but, that felt amazing!”

Wanda smiled in return, “I know, getting a hang of your powers is a really good feeling, I remember when I-”

“No, the feeling that came after, it was like my brain shifted and went into a different state. It was so relaxing. Does that happen to you when you use your powers too?”

That wasn’t the answer Wanda was expecting, “Oh, no Y/N. What you felt was me, using my powers on you. I noticed you were having trouble keeping pace with the volume of waves, so I stepped in to break off the outburst,” she explained.

“Oh.” that made sense, you weren’t sure how you were able to stop so easily when moments before it felt like you were losing control. That feeling though, god it felt amazing. Part of you craved it as if everything fell into place in that moment. “Can we go back now? I’m so tired,” you asked as a yawn escaped like a bookend to your query.

“Already? We just got here.” Wanda teased before she remembered you’re still in recovery mode. “Yeah, I’m really tired,” you slurred as fatigue slammed into you similar to the force of a freight train and you visibly stumbled trying to keep upright. Wanda quickly caught you and guided you over to the nearby rock to sit for a moment, “I-I’m sorry, I just-” you started to apologize but Wanda cut you off, “Y/N stop, you don’t need to apologize.” she reassured you, and when you looked up to meet her gaze you were surprised to see the complete absence of anger or disgust, something you weren't used to.

Once you got ahold of your bearings, the two of you headed straight to the compound. Upon entering, you immediately plopped onto the nearest thing available to sleep on, which just happened to be the couch in the common room, not even bothering to make the trek upstairs to your bedroom.

“Y/N, I think we should go to the med bay and get you checked out,” Wanda stated trying to urge you off of the couch.

“Mmm, later,” you responded groggily as if you were half asleep already.

“Come on, surely your bed is cozier than this,” Wanda persisted, but there was no response this time. She stood there for a couple of seconds longer, staring at your form and waiting to see your chest rise and fall a couple of times before heading off to the medbay to get Bruce’s opinion. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, and she would surely never admit it, but she cared about your well-being.

Bruce assured Wanda that she was right in bringing this to his attention, while not urgent, it would be best to get you checked out. You should be recovered enough by this point that extreme exhaustion shouldn’t come so easily.

You woke up a few hours later and after pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, you headed up to your room. Hearing the movement, and soft noise of the TV turning on through the walls of your room, the woman next door made her way over to knock on your door.

“Come in!” you called from the bed, as you kept your attention on the TV knowing it was only Nat coming in to hang out.

“How are you feeling?”

Taken off guard by a different voice, you did a double take, “Wanda? Sorry I was expecting Nat. You just caught me off guard. I’m feeling better, just needed a nap.” you explained, trying to straighten your posture and appear like you’ve miraculously healed with that short nap.

“That’s good! I spoke to Bruce and-” Wanda began, before you cut in, “Spoke to Bruce? What? Why? I’m fine!” you blurted out, hating the thought of being brought back to medbay for further testing, you’ve always hated doctors, and especially hospitals. With how much time you’ve spent in a hospital the last month, if you never went back, it’d be too soon.

“He said you shouldn’t be tired anymore, and it’d be good to get checked out.” She explained.

You shook your head, “I’m fine Wanda. This is nothing new for me, being tired is my normal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the best part is coming up.” You say motioning to the sitcom you had playing on the tv.

“When Clair tells Phil that she was too lazy to wait in line for his iPad?” Wanda challenged knowing exactly what episode you were watching, figuring you were just trying to get rid of her.

“No. Well, kind of I guess, but after that Phil goes to the batting cages as a coping mechanism.” you clarified.

“How is that the best part?” Wanda pushed for a more in depth explanation.

Part of you felt like you shouldn’t have to explain yourself, but another deeper part of you almost wanted to open up and let Wanda into all the details of your life, “Softball was a big part of my childhood, so it always felt like the batting cages were a safe place for me too, a place to stop overthinking and just focus on things like my stance or the angles I caught the ball at.”

It’s not the answer Wanda expected, but it made a lot of sense now, “You crash birthdays there too, or is that just a Phil thing?”

You both let out a laugh, “No, no. Phil takes the cake on that one.”

“Mind if I join?” she phrased it as a question, but she closed the door and moved to sit next to you on your bed before receiving an answer, and treating it more as a statement.

Not knowing how to decline at that point, or if you even wanted to you just kind of shook your head awkwardly and turned the volume up. The two of you sat in silence, other than the crunch of your cereal and the laughter you shared at the funny parts.

Together you watched about 2.5 episodes before the cozy atmosphere lulled you into a peaceful slumber. Wanda hadn’t even noticed you were sleeping until she glanced over because you weren’t laughing anymore. She couldn’t help but take note of your contorted position, clearly uncomfortable.

Concern etched subtly across her features, Wanda gently shook your shoulder, trying to rouse you from your deep sleep. "Hey, Y/N," she whispered softly, "you're sleeping in a pretty awkward position. You should move."

Y/N stirred, emitting a soft whine in response, but made no effort to adjust her position. Wanda sighed softly, realizing that coaxing Y/N awake might prove to be a challenge. With a gentle touch, she brushed a strand of hair away from Y/N's face, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" Wanda murmured affectionately, her fingers tracing your cheek. "Fine, I guess I'll take care of you then."

With careful hands, Wanda eased you into a more comfortable position, tucking a pillow under your head and arranging the blankets around you. As she watched you settle into a deeper sleep, a warmth that she hadn’t expected filled Wanda's heart.

With that realization, she hurried out of your room as quickly as she could without disturbing you and pushing any positive feeling she suddenly felt toward you as far away as she could. God, she couldn’t stand you. Once she got back to her own quarters she asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to send both you and Bruce a reminder to look into your exhaustion so that she wouldn’t have to bring it up with you again.

Your footsteps quickened as you rounded the corner, hoping to evade Bruce's watchful gaze. The prospect of returning to the medbay filled you with a sense of unease, a heavy feeling you couldn't quite shake.

Bruce, Wanda, and now even Natasha had all been insistent on your follow-up examination, but you continued to make excuses and delay the inevitable. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the cold, clinical atmosphere of the medbay sent shivers down your spine, stirring up memories you'd rather forget.

With each passing moment, your anxiety mounted, a knot tightening in your stomach at the mere thought of facing medical procedures and probing questions. You knew Bruce and Nat meant well, you were still on guard with Wanda, but the fear of hospitals and medical procedures was deeply ingrained within you. Years spent avidly making sure no one else was privy to this fear because being a SHIELD agent requires bravery and courage, so how could you be a good agent and simultaneously be afraid of the doctor? You couldn’t. No one could know.

As you ducked into a nearby corridor looking over your shoulder, you were relieved to find Bruce's figure out of sight. But the guilt gnawed at you, knowing you were avoiding someone who was only trying to help for the sake of your own discomfort.

Yet, the fear of hospitals felt overwhelming, you felt a sort of primal instinct that seemed to grip you tighter with each step. You couldn't bring yourself to face it head-on, not yet anyway.

With a heavy sigh, you resolved to ignore the issue until it went away. For now, you’d continue to dodge Bruce's attempts at persuasion.

Days passed with you mostly keeping to yourself, Nat was away on a mission for a few days so that made things a bit easier. When you did venture out of your room for things like food and drinks, you made sure to scout out the area before entering to ensure you wouldn’t run into anyone.

As Wanda busies herself in the kitchen, the air is infused with an enticing medley of aromas that dance and mingle, creating a sensory symphony.

The rich, savory scent of sautéed onions fills the air, their sweet fragrance wafting from the skillet as Wanda expertly caramelizes them to perfection. The gentle sizzle of the onions echoes through the kitchen, a comforting sound that signals the beginning of a culinary masterpiece.

Next comes the earthy aroma of garlic, its pungent essence mingling with the sweetness of the onions to create a harmonious blend of flavors. As Wanda minces the garlic cloves with practiced precision, the kitchen is enveloped in the warm embrace of this aromatic duo.

“Hey Wanda, Have you seen Y/N?” Bruce asks, entering the kitchen and immediately bing hit with the aroma of Wanda’s Solyanka dish, “Mmm, smells good in here!” he added

Wanda smiled at the compliment as she turned to Bruce, “Not in a couple of days, how’d her check-in go?” she asked while continuing to stir the dish.

“It hasn’t, I think she may be avoiding me.” He deadpanned

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, when I first mentioned a follow-up examination to her. She very suddenly had a bunch of things to do and ran off, and I haven't seen her since. This was 4 days ago.” Bruce explained as he rummaged through the fridge for a drink.

Wanda nodded as the gears began to turn in her brain, she let out a hum, “Interesting. F.R.I.D.A.Y where is Y/N now?” she spoke aloud to the artificial assistant.

“Y/N is currently practicing archery in the training sector,” F.R.I.D.A.Y informed.

“Well, at least she’s not in bed,” Wanda dryly chuckled, adding the last bits of tomato to the pot.

Bruce nodded, “Yea, I’d still like to get that follow-up in though. I have a meeting in about 10 minutes, do you think you could talk to her?”

“What, why me?” she practically whined.

Bruce smiled, almost devilish, and simply said “You’re her mentor.” before leaving the room with his glass of mango juice.

Wanda rolled her eyes as she turned back to the pot on the stove, it was almost done. She just needed to put it on low to simmer for a bit. Though, as she made her way out of the kitchen, she almost felt a sense of excitement. Must’ve been because her dish was coming along so nicely, because there’s no way she would ever be excited to see you. Right?

As Wanda made her way to the training sector, her steps purposeful and determined, she couldn't shake the nagging worry that had been gnawing at her since Bruce had mentioned your unscheduled appointments in the medbay.

Spotting you across the training room, Wanda approached with a gentle smile, hoping to broach the subject delicately. But as she drew nearer, she noticed the tension in your posture, the furrow of your brow, and the restless energy that seemed to radiate from your figure.

"Hey, Y/N," Wanda greeted softly, her tone gentle as she approached, "I was looking for you. Bruce mentioned you haven't been to see him yet. Is everything okay?"

Your reaction was immediate, a defensive edge creeping into your voice as you shrugged off Wanda's concern. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just been busy with training, you know how it is."

Wanda wasn't convinced. She could see through the facade, recognizing the telltale signs of agitation and avoidance. Something was clearly bothering you, and she could see it was something you weren't ready to share.

"Wanda, I'm fine," you insisted, your voice tinged with frustration. "I don't need to see Bruce. It's not a big deal. I’m not even tired anymore, I’m literally shooting arrows right now. Would a tired person be doing that?" you reasoned in a rambling fashion.

But Wanda could sense the underlying fear in your words, the unspoken truth you were trying so hard to conceal. She also knew better than to push, because she knew better than anyone that some wounds ran deeper than others and required patience and understanding to heal.

With a reassuring smile, Wanda reached out to gently squeeze your shoulder and before she could even filter her words, her mouth started spewing, "Okay, Y/N. Just know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. No judgments, I promise."

Your tense expression softened, a flicker of gratitude in your eyes before confusion came crashing in, “Uh- are you feeling ok?” not only was that possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever said, but you were pretty sure it was also the only nice thing Wanda has ever said to you.

Trying to build back her stone-cold composure against you, Wanda snapped back, “What? Have you never had someone see that you’re hurting and be nice to you? God Y/L/N, don’t read too much into it.” she scoffed and turned to leave the training gym, “Class at 6:30 tomorrow morning, don’t be late!” she yelled out on her way to the door, without even turning back around to face you, “OH! And meet up with Bruce!”

“I AM FINE!” you shouted back.

You made sure to go to bed early that night so that you’d be able to get up early enough to make your meeting with Wanda without some sarcastic comment about your tardiness. It was still difficult but you needed to be on time to help prove your point that you don’t need Bruce, and you don’t need a follow-up exam.

The spot was a lot chillier than the last time you were there, you could still see the morning dew on the grass as the wind softly whipped through the clearing with crisp morning air.

Wanda was already there when you arrived, it was still dark but you could see her scarlet magic carrying her through the air as she set up targets across the way.

“Oh good, you’re finally here,” Wanda commented as she landed back on the ground on your side of the clearing.

“Hey, I was ON TIME. You can’t complain about that.” you defended.

She looked at you with a devilish grin and smugly claimed, “Does S.H.I.E.L.D. teach their agents anything anymore? On-time is late and 10 minutes early is on time.”

You just rolled your eyes in response as you changed the subject to ask about the new additions to the terrain, “What are those for?” you said pointing across the river.

“Something for you to aim at. Come, follow me.” she gestured as she began scaling a nearby boulder. It was easy enough to climb up the side of, almost like nature created it’s own version of stairs. The top provided an even better view of the clearing and a clear visual of where the sky hangs over the mountain.

Wanda made herself comfortable sitting at the top, leaving enough room for you to sit next to her as she patted the ground gesturing for you to join her, “What are we doing up here?” you asked, cautious of what she had planned for you.

“Gosh, what’s with all the questions Y/L/N? Why don’t you just go with the flow for once in your life”

“Fine.” you agreed as you took the spot next to her.

A couple of beats of silence pass as you both stare into the darkness that still covers the sky when Wanda finally turns to you, “Mornings are my favorite time to be out here.” she admitted.

“Why? It’s cold.”

Instead of immediately addressing your question, she turned back to the sky and took a deep breath. As if on queue, the sun slowly started to peek out from behind the mountain and paint the sky with warm hues like a work of art, “That’s why.”

“Wow,” you took it all in as you sat there in awe. The two of you shared a comfortable silence until the sun had completed its ascent over the mountain line.

As you struggled to harness your newfound powers, frustration simmered beneath the surface. Despite Wanda's surprisingly patient guidance, controlling the unpredictable energy coursing through your veins proved to be a daunting task.

With each failed attempt, your frustration mounted, a knot tightening in your stomach as you grappled with the overwhelming force of your abilities. But amidst the chaos, there was a flicker of something else—a thrill that coursed through your veins whenever Wanda intervened to take control.

Wanda watched you closely, her brow furrowed in concentration as she assessed the situation. She could sense your struggle when the raw power of your abilities threatened to spiral out of control. With a steady hand, Wanda reached out, her telekinetic powers weaving through the air as she penetrated your mind, guiding her movements with a gentle yet firm touch.

As Wanda assumed control, a wave of relief washed over you, a sensation that was both exhilarating and disconcerting. You surrendered to Wanda's influence, relinquishing control with a sense of surrender that both frightened and intrigued you.

But beneath the surface, there was a secret you dared not admit—a part of you relished in the feeling of giving up control, the intimacy of connection ignited a fire within you that couldn't quite be extinguished. It was a forbidden thrill, tainted by your tumultuous history and the unspoken tension that lingered between the two of you.

As the training session continued and you started to get the hang of it a bit more, there were a few times that you feigned a lack of restraint, the occasional slip-up, a deliberate ploy to elicit Wanda's intervention once more. To relish in the feeling of her control. You were ashamed of the forbidden desires that stirred deep down whenever Wanda's telekinetic touch enveloped your mind, binding the two of you together in ways you couldn't even begin to understand.

Wanda was quite literally inside of your mind, she knew what you were doing, and still, she played along. She recognized the subtle cues in your behavior. She understood the unspoken desire that lingered beneath the surface, mirrored in her own developing longing for intimacy.

Instead of reprimanding you for your deliberate slip-ups, Wanda chose to covertly lean into the unspoken tension that crackled between you. With a subtle flick of her wrist, she amplified her telekinetic influence. Your mind clouded with a thick fog, nearly impossible to see through, keeping your thoughts tame as you subconsciously followed Wanda’s lead.

Loving the feeling of having a complete hold on your mind, she reveled in not only the way that you hung on her every command, but also in the way you enjoyed it. She was going to have fun with this, give you small tastes until you’re begging for more.

Slowly, she released the hold she had taken over your mind. As the fog started the thin out, the first thing you heard was Wanda calling out your name with an artificial tinge of worry, “Y/N?” You blinked rapidly a few times before fully coming back to your senses, “are you ok?” her words were soft and endearing.

“Yea, uh,” As if the world instantly got the right prescription, everything cleared right up, “Think we can call it? I need to go lie down,” you admitted. Wanda wanted to decline your request, she was actually really enjoying herself, “Yea, of course.”

You had been laying in your bed for 20 minutes now, unable to rest because your mind kept replaying the events of your training session with Wanda. You weren’t sure if it felt so good for her to take over your mind like that because it was something you craved or because it was her. It could’ve been both, but surely she doesn’t feel the same about you. In fact, with the way you constantly get underneath each other’s skin, surely she despised you.

It wasn’t fair to her, for once she tried being helpful and you’re practically drooling over the thought of more. You had to remove yourself from the situation before it became too much and you made a complete fool of yourself. Getting up from your bed, you decided the only thing that could get you out of your mentorship with Wanda would be found in Tony’s lab.

“Tony!” with his back to the door, you noticed the slight startle in his figure, he wasn’t expecting anyone, “How’s the device thing coming along for my powers?” you asked, taking the seat across from him.

Once you were seated across from him, he raised his gaze from the object in his hands to meet your eyes, “The inhibitor?” you nodded, “yea, that.”

“I thought Wanda was teaching you how to use your powers? I stopped working on it because I figured you didn't need it,” this was the last thing you wanted to hear, this was your way out. You needed this thing as quickly as possible.

“Oh, Wanda agreed that it would be good for me to have it. That it would actually help me to learn how to tame them.” you lied through your straight-ass teeth but Tony believed you. While someone like Natasha would’ve seen right through that charade, Tony sure as hell wasn’t an Avenger because he was a super spy, intelligence can only get you so far in the detective game.

“Ok, i’ll have it to you in the next couple of days. I’ll just need to run some tests on your blood to callibrate it correctly, can you go down to the med lab today?”

Oh here we go, you’ll either have to face your fear of medical or keep hiding your budding feelings for Wanda. Surprisingly this is exactly what it took for you to get your follow up exam and run even more tests.

Bruce was surprised to see you, and even though your attempt at convincing him you werent avoiding him fell short, he decided not to pry. He was just happy you were here now.

The follow up exam wasn’t nearly as bad as you had built it up in your head. They just asked a few questions, took some tests and sent you on your way. That’s how it always is though, and next time it’ll be the same way. You conjure these irrational thoughts and then it builds and builds.

As Natasha returned to the compound , you could hardly contain your excitement. You missed her presence, and you were looking forwards to hearing all about her mission.

"Nat!" you exclaimed as you spotted Natasha entering the common area, a grin spreading across your face. "You're back!"

Natasha's lips curved into a warm smile as she greeted you with a hug. "Hey, Y/N. It's good to see you too," she said, returning the embrace.

The two of you settled onto the couch together, the familiar comfort of your friendship easing the tension of Natasha's recent mission. As you caught up on each other's lives, swapping stories and sharing laughs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude that your friend was back.

"So, how was the mission?" you asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

Natasha's expression softened, a hint of weariness shadowing her features. "It was… intense," she admitted, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "But we got the job done."

“Intense, how?”

Natasha settled back into the couch, her gaze distant as she recounted the events of her mission. "We were sent to extract a high-value target from a hostile territory," she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of seriousness and intensity.

"It started off smoothly enough," she continued, her words measured. "But things quickly escalated. We encountered heavy resistance from enemy forces, and what was supposed to be a simple extraction turned into a full-blown firefight."

You listened intently, as your expression reflected the gravity of Natasha's words. Flashbacks of your recent mission sitting at the forefront of your mind as she recounted the events. You knew firsthand the dangers of fieldwork, but hearing Natasha's account reminded you of the risks she faced on a daily basis.

"We managed to secure the target, but not without casualties," Natasha said quietly, her gaze turning inward as she remembered the sacrifices made during the mission.

You reached out, offering Natasha a reassuring squeeze of your hand. "I'm sorry, Nat. That’s never easy," you said softly, voice filled with empathy.

She offered a grateful smile, appreciating your insight. "Yea," she admitted, her tone somber. "But we did what we had to do. That's the job."

As you sat together in the quiet of the room, the weight of Natasha's mission hung in the air. But amidst the shadows of uncertainty, there was also a glimmer of resilience, “So, what’d I miss around here?”

“Oh, nothing really,” you shrugged, “Same old things.”

“Oh yea? How’s your mentorship with Wanda going?” she pried.

Your cheeks flushed at the mention of her name, and of course the super spy sitting next to you noticed, “oh that? It’s coming to an end.” you responded vaguely.

“-an end? Why? What happened?” Natasha pushed for more information.

Avoiding eye contact, you explained, “Nothing happened. I don’t need her help anymore,”

Acting impressed, Natasha had a feeling there was more to the story, “Well, you got a handle on your powers pretty quickly then, huh?”

With a satisfied grin, acting as if you outsmarted some all knowing system, “Oh I don’t need to. Tony is fixing them.” you bragged as you removed yourself from the couch beside Nat to enter the kitchen which was still in clear view from where Natasha was seated on the couch, “you want a drink or anything? You must be exhausted.”

Nat stayed put on the couch, letting her brain catch up with what you just said, she was tired but that could wait, “Sorry, can we circle back for a sec? Tony is fixing your powers? How exactly?” she pressed, not letting you move on from the topic as she followed you off the couch and into the kitchen.

Using the refrigerator as an excuse to not meet her eyes, you pretending to weigh your options even though you knew exactly what you were after as soon as you left couch, “well, i dont know the technicalities of it, Nat, but he’s got gadgets for everything. Oh! And I had my follow-up with Bruce. He said that he’ll need to wait for the tests to come back but everything seems in order.”

Natasha hummed in response as she took a sip of the water bottle you slid over to her, “We’ll talk about this more later, movie night tonight? I’ve got to go take a shower.”

You nodded in response, “Oh, so that’s what that smell was!” you called out as she left you behind in the kitchen. She couldnt help but checkle slightly in response, “Oh shut it, Y/L/N!”

You were looking forward to a proper movie night with Natasha, it had been too long for your liking since the two of you got to have time to yourselves and relax together like this. You even made sure to run to the store and grab lots of snacks in preparation.

You werent good at cooking by any stretch, but popcorn, you could handle. You got a bowl ready, and made sure to season it with the butter powder that Natasha loves as you put all the other junk and drinks onto a tray so you could carry it easily into the theatre room. To your surprise, Natasha wasn’t the only one there waiting for you.

“Surprise!” Nat haphazardly yelled once you noticed that Wanda was sitting beside her. Against your own will, your eyes widened as your cheeks flooded a light pink. You didnt want her here, “Why is she here?” you asked, speaking to Nat as if Wanda wasnt sitting right there to hear.

“Natasha invited me,” Wanda stepped in and explained for herself. It was difficult to hide your disgust at the situation, you were looking forward to having a cozy evening alone with Nat.

“Why?” You kept your eyes on Natasha, not paying Wanda any attention, she was intruding on your plans, and you hated the fact that you’d have to sit through an entire movie with her, an entire movie being distracted, trying to push away the thoughts that keep plaguing your mind.

Natasha knew that there was tension between you and Wanda that likely should be addressed, and who better to be a mediator than your best friend herself? After thinking over your approach to dampen your powers instead of learning to wield them properly, she believed that spending time together in a relaxed setting like a movie night could help you work through your differences and potentially mend whatever set you off from training.

Additionally, Natasha valued both you and Wanda as friends and continually tried anything to see you get along better. She hoped that by bringing you together in a more casual and friendly environment, you could find some common ground, “Oh stop complaining Y/N, come sit!” Nat patted the seat next to her. Wanda wasnt phased by your display, in fact, she somewhat expected it.

You reluctantly sat without complaining further, “What movie have you two decided on then?” you shot off, acting as if having Wanda there excluded you in some way.

Nat ignored the attitude in your tone, “We havent decided yet, I was thinking a comedy though,” she answered.

You and Wanda both decided against anything either of you chose, so eventually you landed on a movie that Nat suggested. As the movie played on the screen, you held back your laughter, a subtle attempt to maintain a sense of composure in front of Wanda. Feeling somewhat guarded in Wanda's presence, hesitant to show vulnerability or let your guard down completely.

But as the movie reached a particularly funny scene, you couldn't help but crack a smile, the laughter bubbling up from deep within. Natasha, sitting beside you, let out a hearty laugh, her amusement contagious as it spread to both you and Wanda.

Despite your initial reservations, the three of you were soon found laughing uproariously, the tension of the evening melting away in the shared joy of the moment. You felt a sense of relief wash over you, making a conscious decision to let go of your hesitations and embrace the joy of the movie. Letting your guard down, to laugh freely and openly.

Once the movie came to and end, the next suggested option was “Modern Family” and without a second thought you clicked play. Nat slowly got up from her spot in the middle of you and Wanda, claiming she was exhausted and going to head to bed. You and Wanda stayed seated as the show began to play. You’re not sure exactly when it happened but at some point, Wanda took over Nat’s seat beside you, “So, how did your follow up go with Bruce?”

You sighed, “It went well I guess, they uh- they found in my bloodwork that I have this disease called chronic fatigue syndrome, which explains why I’m always tired and stuff,” you explained.

Wanda tilted her head slightly as she took in the information, “Well, surely you already knew that from the tests SHIELD did on you to pass academy.” She questioned, thinking back to her internal reasoning as to why you knew that you’d be able to survive the chemical at the Hydra plant.

You’re not sure where her thought process was, or what made her come to that conclusion, “What? No, I never got to see the results of any of those tests, it was all confidential.” you explained, “It was just a pass or fail result at the end of the graduate year.”

As if all the walls that Wanda built between you came crashing down, realization flooded in. She had constructed this idea of you in her head, an idea that you always had some sort of ulterior motive and nothing you ever did was out of any sort of kindness or altruism, “Wait, so how did you know that you’d survive the chemical agent that we were sent to retrieve at the Hydra base?”

“I didn’t.” you stated as if it were obvious. Perhaps it was to everyone else. “Oh! Speaking of that, I have some good news!” you transitioned to the new topic, tone laced with mischief, “You won’t need to mentor me anymore,”

Wanda arched an eyebrow, her expression guarded knowing that you surely didnt have a complete grasp on your powers yet, she hummed, “Why’s that?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips, “Tony’s making me an inhibitor,” you nearly bragged, “I don’t need to bother with them now, and we can go back to hating each other, no need to keep up with this charade anymore. Just like old times.”

There was a sharpness to your words, a cutting edge that sliced through the tension. You knew that your relationship with Wanda had always been fraught with animosity, a constant battle of wills and egos.

But as you watched Wanda's reaction, a flicker of something crossed her features—was it disappointment? Relief? Sadness? You couldn't quite decipher it, but deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing Wanda a favor by removing yourself from her life.

Wanda's response was measured, her gaze steady as she met your eyes. "Oh, this thing?” she said as she held out her hand, the inhibitor that Tony built for you appearing out of thin air, surrounded by red tendrils of magic. Your eyes widened, “I was wondering when you were going to tell me. Imagine my surprise when he told me it was my idea.” she glared, expecting an explanation.

You swallowed hard before explaining yourself, “Yea, well- I. I figured that this will make things easier for both of us. Things can go back to the way they used to be.” you stressed, avoiding eye contact with the girl beside you in favor of quite literally anything else in the room.

Your words carried a weight, so much had changed in the last month. Was anything really better off before any of this? “You want to go back to the way things used to be between us?” she clarified.

Of course you didn’t want that, but it’s what you convinced yourself that she wanted, “I- I don’t know,” you muttered as the wheels spun in your head, “No?”

Wanda couldn’t help but smile slightly at the state you were in, she found it cute. So indecisive and unsure, no trace of the snarky confidence you used to hold. Instead, you were shrunken in on yourself, merely a shell in her presence, “Then what made you lie to Tony for this?” she pushed for an explanation, as she gestured to the inhibitor she was still holding.

You were feeling overwhelmed now, not knowing the right thing to say. The last thing you wanted was Wanda upset with you. Your breathing began to pick up ever so slightly, something Wanda took notice of, “I- I’m sorry, I thought you’d like it better this way. Without me.” you admitted.

Spinning in her seat so that her entire body faced you instead of the tv, the device in Wanda’s hand vanished as she moved it to rest on your leg for comfort, “Y/N, Why would you think that?”

Your body tensed at the contact of her hand on your thigh, keeping your eyeline low like you were a child being scolded, “Well, it’s just- I feel like i’ve become this responsibility for you, and you shouldn’t have to. I know you hate me, and that’s ok. I deserve it, but it’s not fair for you.” you tried to find the right words to explain your thought process, you werent even sure if it made sense at this point.

Suddenly you felt Wanda’s fingers pulling your chin to force you to meet her gaze, “Hey. I don’t hate you.” she clarified, “Sure we bicker, and get under each other’s skin, but I thought things were getting better.” she affirmed, and you nodded gently in response, “Good girl,” she whispered almost inaudibly, sending a shiver down your spine noticing the hold she had on you without even using her magic, “Regardless, it’s the least I could do, the only reason you even have these powers in the first place is because you saved me.” she admitted.

You didn’t have a response, staring back at her with doe wide eyes waiting for her to make the next move. She removed her grip from your chin and lifted the barrier from between your seats, “Come here,” she patted as she lifted her arm for you to scootch closer. You did as she said, nuzzling into the space she provided. Your shared focus shifted back to the sitcom on the tv as you relaxed into her embrace, “Wanda.” you muttered softly as exhaustion began weighing heavily on your features, and she hummed in response, “I never hated you either.” you admitted.

“I know.”

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even-in-arcadia · 3 months

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@saints-who-never-existed I hope you don't mind me continuing this here but your tags! This started as a ramble in my own tags on that gifset but then it got very long and then I realized that I was no longer talking about Morfin & Tozer & Silna. So I'm putting it here in a seperate post because that moment is SO good, the beauty of the clarity and understanding that passes there, and I didn't want to take away from that post.

But I have been trying for a while to figure where Goodsir falls in this turning of mercy. It never ever occurred to me that Goodsir's panic attack might be more than just the visceral grief of seeing his patient in such pain that he, a doctor, is incapable of curing, and the trauma of him being so violently killed at such close quarters. But on top of that!! Now must he reckon with the fact that he has been prolonging this man's life and suffering (and again, Goodsir doesn't know what Morfin knew about Lt Fairholme) only to bring him to such a cataclysm and end: and that this makes him entirely re-evaluate his concepts of mercy, of compassion, and what it means to truly provide relief! Of the value of his entire profession as he has understood and practiced it! Does he feel complicit in Morfin's death? In the manner of it? As you say, no wonder he had a panic attack! How does he reckon with the fact that Tozer, a marine (and probably not someone he cares for), is ultimately the one who is able to understand and give to Morfin the only true mercy possible in the circumstances?

So when Gibson comes to him with scurvy and asks what to expect: he tells him the brutal, plain truth of it with no offer of comfort or hope, not even a softness in his tone. Because he is angry, but also because that is a different kind of mercy. He spent so long telling Morfin there was hope, there were options, but he was wrong. It all came to this horror, to his patient literally begging for death.

And is this what brings him to the point of being able not just to contemplate but to carry out his suicide & murder? Because the Goodsir of the first nine episodes might have killed Hickey, but he also must know that many of those men are in that camp out of fear and desperation and even chance and are complicit but not Guilty in the way that Hickey is. Does he think he's freeing them, or punishing them, or both? Does it mean that for him mercy has ceased to be a concept of value or meaning in these circumstances?

Anyway, that's what's rattling around in my head now.

#and now i have to finish my work so i can go to bed #but i truly could not stop this circling in my mind #so here it is #sorry everyone #the terror amc #harry goodsir

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nikitaxlee · 9 months

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All Yours?/ Possessive/Obsessive Felix X Fem! Reader

Warnings: Obsessive/Jealous/Possessive Felix, Smut, kinky sex, Mentions of murder. Light breeding.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to request anything for I am new and need ideas.

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You were plagued on felix's mind 24/7. He constantly thought about you, and was inextricably obsessed with you. "Fuck, baby, just like that. Right there- Holy shit, Fuck I'm cumming all over those pretty tits."

Felix had his phone in his right hand as he jerked himself off to a picture on your Instagram. You had a nice top with a lower neckline but not to much. You had tagged Felix due to the fact he had taken the photo. How could he not jump at the chance to have a photo of you. Especially in moments like this when he craved sweet release.

"Shit, Mommy, I can't, I fucking can't hold out any longer, I-I Need it I need you, baby." Finally he released his load all over his hand and phone.

As he came down from his high, Post-nut clarity hit him hard. He realized he had a date with you this afternoon and needed to shower and get ready. He put on an nice white, linen button up, unbuttoning the first few buttons enough to show his defined collarbone. He grabbed his phone, which he had cleaned off, and wallet and walked out the door to his car.

As he drove to the cafe he played one of your playlists while imagining blowing your back out to one of them. As he arrived to the cafe he noticed your undeniable beauty sitting at a table with a guy.

Wait... With a guy? That couldn't be right. Felix was the only guy who could speak to you. Make you smile. And even just look at your sexy features. Felix rushed to the scene. 'I'm about to kill this fucking asshole, who the fuck does he think he is? He should know a pretty girl like my Y/N is taken.'

"Y/N? Ready to go?"

"Oh! Hey babe! Meet Salomon, he's from Australia as well! Brisbane actually!" You said as you shot Salomon a smile.

"Oh, cool. That's really cool. But we should go now. We have a date planned." Felix said as he gave Salomon a fake sincere smile.

'I don't know how much I can fucking take before I snap.'

"Bye Salomon! I'll talk to you later." You said as you waved goodbye.

Later. What the fuck does she mean by later. There is no later.

And you too continued walking

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 Hours later

Felix walked into the scene of you sitting on the couch tapping away on your fun happily. He enjoyed seeing you smile in his presence. He wanted you to be happy with him all the time.

"Whatcha doing babe, Playing a game?" Asked Felix.

"Yeah, Something like that."

Felix went to cook dinner for the 2 of you to finish up such a wonderful day. He heard you giggle in the next room over. Then he heard it again, then again, and once more, again. He finally decided to check on you to see what was so funny. He silently crept up from behind in hopes he could see what you were doing

He noticed you were texting someone and at first he thought it was one of your friends. Until he noticed the contact name.

'Salomon <3'

He snatched your phone out of your hands as rage overcame him. "What the fuck Y/N, What makes you think you can just go about texting another man when you have a boyfriend right here that would love to talk to you." He sounded genuinely hurt and offended that you would even think about another man around him. So you felt bad.

"I'm sorry babe, I didn't know you would be so offended, I was just bonding with-"

"NO, this is our time together." With that he grabbed by the neck and pulled you in to kiss him. The kiss hushed some of his terrible thoughts about killing Salomon but he could still feel the jealousy.

Felix laid you down onto the couch as he took off the tanktop he was wearing. He let out a deep whimper as you caressed his abs.

"Mhm- Fuckkk please touch me Y/N, Show me your mine, Show me I can put a baby in you. Show me I can fuck you better than he would ever. Show me I'm all yours."

You slipped your hand into his pants as you felt him up. You moaned as you felt his cock pulsing waiting to be used.

"Baby, please, I can't wait. Let me just put it in, Let me fuck a baby into you so everybody knows I'm yours as you are mine. So Salomon knows he will NEVER get you as long as I'm around."

You nodded as he pulled down his sweats and boxers and started jerking off his cock. He honestly felt bad he didn't eat you out or at least finger you, but this was you punishment for even thinking of another guy.

As he pushed in, inch by inch, you let out a high pitched moan. He started fucking deep and slow.

"Yes babe, yes take it. Take it all. Suck up all my cum with that tight, needy hole. I want you to be pregnant by the end of this month."

He picked up the pace and kept waves of pleasure moving through you. He know every nook and cranny, every spot, every detail, and he knew that he would make you cum harder than any other bastard that even dared to try. But he knew they wouldn't, because they'd be dead. As you moaned his name you felt him pulse inside of you cueing he was cumming. Suddenly he slammed his hand onto the end of the couch and pounded you.

"Cum, Cum for me, cum so fuckin- ahhh, yes, yes, yes"

He moaned as he released inside of you causing you to orgasm. As you both came down from your high. Felix gave you a deep, passionate kiss before saying, "Mine."

He carried you up to the shower before running it for you and hopping in.

"Y/N, You know I love you so much and I'm serious about putting a baby in you."

"Slow your roll pretty boy, You need to marry me first."

"I guess I will then."

#felix smut #obsessive felix #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids #lee felix

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 7 months

Text

Ivy | chapter thirteen

listen to: Exile - Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver | Six Feet Under - Billie Eilish(playlist here)

warning: violence, blood.

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fii!!

You frowned slightly when you heard the metal hitting the floor as you closed the water. For a moment, you’d wonder if Rooster had let something fall. Maybe it was his belt. You couldn’t get yourself to care about it as you stepped out of the shower, droplets of water cascading down your skin, but the warmth of the water did little to alleviate the cold, heavy feeling in your heart.

As you wrapped yourself in a towel, you felt like the bathroom vapor was suffocating you, just like the truth. It weighed so much on your body that you could barely move and open that door. Refusing to look at yourself in the mirror, you gazed at the door. Succumbing to familiarity and the fleeting moments of false comfort that led you to break his heart again, and worse, leading to break Jake’s heart again if he ever found out.

And then, there was a loud thud coming from outside the bathroom.

Just like now, sitting in Cyclone’s office, a jolt that snaps you back to reality.

Cyclone’s hands hit the oak desk so loud that it brought you back. Your gaze focuses on him, catching a glimpse of a furious expression etched upon his face. You look down again; you rather avoid the shame you already feel by looking at your blood-stained white tank top. You remember amidst your own turmoil how you ran through your house as soon as you saw Jake’s dog tags on the floor.

Barely dressed, you’d hastily put on some sneakers as you finished pulling the white tank top over your head with the first shorts you’d found. Desperation has fueled your every move since you rushed out of the bathroom, your body still slick with moisture. You can still hear your heart pounding, a wild symphony of guilt, love, and fear.

Even though Cyclone’s barks.

“I don’t know what the hell that was, but I don’t want to see it here again,” he barks, his nostrils flared.

He had been going at it for over an hour. Pete and Solomon watching the whole thing as Jake, Bradley, and you are sat down in front of Cyclone’s desk.

Bradley can feel Maverick’s gaze judging him. His jaw ticks as he fights to remain calm as he watches Cyclone unravel again. His heart is still pounding from the altercation. He has barely felt anything other than anger since he saw the dog tags on your floor. Instead, the only thing that has been playing in his mind is how many times Jake touched you like he did? How many times had the two of you disappeared or called in sick? How many times was he fooled by the both of you?

He glances momentarily at Jake. He’s in a bad shape, worse than Bradley. The pain etched on Jake’s face as he held the ice pack against his nose. It is not broken. Bradley honestly doesn’t understand why; by the way he hit him, it should be broken. Bradley looks away for a moment, gazing down at his hands. He should’ve hit him harder, he thinks at first. As if hitting him harder would force you to take him back, as if hitting harder would take back time.

Bradley wishes he could deny it, that the sight of Jake’s injuries state sparks of vindicative satisfaction, a twisted sense of justice in the sea of pain. But deep down, there lies a lingering pang of shame. It was a shame that he allowed himself to be consumed once more by anger, allowing it to dictate his actions, a thing he’d been avoiding since you two broke up. Harming someone who was never truly at fault. It’s a bitter pill to swallow as he sits there. It’s worse when he glances up at you; he can barely look at all the blood-tainted clothes and skin.

Bradley struggles to find clarity.

Jake does, too, as he stares at Cyclone.

He’s the only one looking at him. The only one brave enough to face what he has done. As he sits there, bruised and hurting, he takes every word of his Admiral seriously. He knows he fucked up, and yet, he can’t find it in himself to regret it. Not after everything.

He’d been so in love with you. He is still so in love with you, that even now, when his whole body is in pain, the thing that hurts the most is the pain in your eyes, mingled with the sense of shame. You can barely look up. You have barely looked at him, not even when he knows that you feel his gaze burning your skin. A part of him wishes that he could hold you, that it wouldn’t be so self-destructive to tell you that everything was fine, that he still wanted you. And then, he thinks again about what just happened. He had been trying to figure it out since the fight. How did Rooster found out?

For a moment, Jake wishes he didn’t love you so much.

Because it dawns on him that you didn’t tell him. Rooster found out on his own. A tinge of regret creeps into his heart. Loving you, he decided, was a blessing and a curse as he witnessed the aftermath of everything that you’d built. A castle on weak terrain, destined to shattered. Perhaps he shouldn’t have allowed himself to love you so deeply. Acting for self-preservation seemed to be the thing that Jake forgot every time he was close to you.

“Now, get the fuck out of this office before I discharge all of you for good,” Cyclone barks one last time, the last words ricocheting through his office for so long that you barely register Jake and Bradley standing up.

And you don’t move. You wanted to stay there and allow them to go their own ways, but as you sat there, you realized for a moment that you were a shell of the person you used to be. The one your father admired, the one your peers came to admire, everything you’d built your character on.

It was gone.

Everything inside you felt like it was pulling you down in that chair. All the guilt and shame forced you to stay there. As if you could avoid the thoughts as if you could avoid the truth. As if you could avoid the reality that this confirmed every bad thing you believed about yourself to be true, that now the things you hoped and prayed that never came to light had come. That now everyone knew how awful of a person you were, the real you, and now everyone would despise you for it.

Even the people you love the most.

But now, one could despise you more than you despise yourself. Suddenly, you felt someone’s hand pulling you up the chair by your forearm. It jolted you back.

“Kid,” Maverick’s voice as he forced you up made you feel like you could suddenly breathe again. It wasn’t forceful. It wasn’t brutal the way he held you. It felt like your father did when you fell down from your bike when you were a kid, and he was worried for you. That same urgency.

You glanced at him.

So many words could’ve been exchanged from that one look. So many that you wouldn’t be able to put them down in writing or ever.

“Go,”

You don’t want to, and he knows that you don’t want to, but then he gazes at the door, and you follow suit. By the end of the hallway, there’s Rooster and Hangman waiting for you for an explanation. You barely registered your legs moving towards them. It all felt like a dream for you.

And then it all hits you like a brick. Your blood burns, rushing around your body as your heart pumps erratically as you finally look at them, horrified at their battered and cut faces, all because of you.

“I am not going to talk about this with you, Bradshaw,” Jake states as he stares at Rooster, his chest puffing up, but you can tell that he is tired.

You can also tell that he isn’t looking at you and that Bradley refuses to stop.

“You just had to swipe in, didn’t you, Seresin?” Bradley continues. “You just had to take her away from me the moment I left her when she was the most vulnerable. You took advantage of her, and she believed you,”

Jake feels his body tensing up.

“I didn’t take advantage of her,” Jake’s voice feels a little bit louder as he gets closer to Bradley. “You are so blind, aren’t you, Bradshaw? She didn’t want you,” his words punctuated by bitterness.

“And she wants you?” Bradley scoffed.

“At least I don’t need to claim her,” Jake responded.

Bradley’s eyes widened for a moment, and your stomach dropped. All too aware of what Jake meant, all too aware of what he was saying.

“Stop it!” you finally intervened, fighting to keep your tears at bay. Bradley and Jake finally turn towards you, but you can still feel the anger in their eyes. They can’t hold your gaze. The sheer anger won’t let them. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I never,” your voice trembles. “I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to hurt either of you,”

“Hurt?” Bradley asks with a scoff. “Brat, you are fucking breaking us apart,” he spits cruelly at you. Jake remains silent as the words of Bradley settle on you. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you been fucking him?” the words come out of Bradley’s mouth like poison. The accusation is hurling at you, piercing your heart, each word carrying a heavy weight of betrayal.

“It is none of your business,” you decide to answer, voice trembling but tinged with a hint of defiance.

Bradley shakes his head. Anger simmers within him as he confronts the truth. He glances at Jake for a moment; he’s looking at you in a way that makes his stomach turn. His tongue darts out as he licks his lips while he glances back at you. The way Jake looks at you gnaws at him. It eats him alive.

He wants to end it.

“But it is because we had sex last night,” Bradley spats out.

The revelation of the secret pierces Jake’s heart. He frowns slightly, and he wipes his head towards you.

“Brat?” he asks, his voice so small and weak. You can feel the betrayal. You can taste it. You gaze back at him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you try your best to feel strong. He knows that you are sorry, but the weight of the confession hangs heavily in the air. Jake looks back at Bradley, and just out of spite, he says it. “The night before you arrived,”

“So, you have been fucking for five months?” Bradley asks in disbelief.

“Jake, he ended it almost a month ago,” you admit, hoping to dispel the notion that you were still with Jake until last night. And yet, it doesn’t feel any better. It doesn’t fix anything. It just makes it so much worse.

“Not even you,” Bradley spits out; his anger remains unabated, his words cut deep. “You sure knew how to keep us dangling on a string. Enjoying the attention, the power?”

You frown and shake your head, taking one step closer before he steps back. In his eyes, you become the puppeteer, reveling in the attention and control you hold over them. Nothing farther from the truth.

“Bradley, you know it is not like that,” the pain etches itself onto your voice as you plead. You want him to understand that your intention was never to play with them, that it was stupid, but you didn’t mean to be cruel.

But you know that nothing can make it right.

“So, how is it?”

“I don’t know!” your voice falters, grappling for words.

The air turns heavier than before, and suddenly, you feel like you cannot breathe. The air is thick with tension, and you can only see the blood and the purple bruises on their faces. The world blurs around you, the words of anger tattoed on your mind as you try to breathe, and your chest turns heavier and heavier. Without a second thought, you turn abruptly and run, your heart pounding in your chest. Each step echoes the urgency of your desire to run away from the emotional battleground behind you, from the chaos you created.

You want to run away mostly from you.

As you disappear from the halfway, a lingering question hangs in the air. Both of them can feel it; there’s no need to say it, but Bradley still goes ahead anyway.

“You know I can make her happier than you ever could, right?” he says.

Jake shakes his head.

“Care to prove it?”

an: I was going to say that I was sorry for not posting, okay I am honestly but also, what the hell? I didn't know moving to USA was going to be so fucking hard. What are these prices?? And why everything is so far away! I miss europe a bit. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter because we are back to regular programming. hopefully if this master doesn't kill my vibe.

Taglist: @laracrofted @double-j @inky-sun @alanadetigy @teenwolf01 @beebslebobs @materialgirl01 @daisyhollyxox @piceous21 @elicheel @supernaturaldawning @midnightdevotion @hangrymama @ashann7 @maverick-wingman @snap-crackle-and-pop-blog @ebonyhogan24 @teddyluvs2sing @happypopcornprincess @untoldshortsofthefandoms @xxshea-barnesxx @sweetheart-im-the-boss @je-suis-prest-rachel @bregarc @imagineteller1 @abaker74 @lilylilyyyyyy @nemtodd-barnes1923 @loveless-simp @fucktthisworld @deliciouslydisturbed365 @laluneveillesesureux @emma8895eb @tandefeaffe @potato-girl99981 @jstarr86 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mirrorball-6 @grxcisxhy-wp @that-one-random-writer @dempy @zbeez-outlet @djs8891

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asumofwords · 1 year

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Another day, another slay. Another moment without Aemond in my life and I am frothing at the bit. I need that man to kidnap me, honestly. I am trying to figure out how I want this fic to end... So many possibilities argh!!! Enjoy <3

Chapter 57: A Sea of Green

The bed moved with every roll of your husband beside you, stirring you from your sleep. How were you to relax when every shift turned your skin alight in anticipation of him reaching over to touch you? You could not settle into the plush pillows and soft sheets, no matter how much you tried. As soon as you got close to the precipice of sleep, gently drifting off, Aemond would shift beside you, and your eyes would snap open.

The bastard had slept peacefully beside you, whilst you desperately chased it to no avail.

When you had finally reached sleep, you were waken shortly after by his stirring again. Aemond was an early riser, someone who rose with the sun to waste no time in the day, or perhaps he did not sleep. He had stirred, and wriggled and disturbed you from what little respite you had managed to get as he rolled from beside the bed, not having touched you.

You had turned to watch him, angrily staring at the back of his head as you wished to thrust a dagger into it. His hair was slightly tangled in the back, likely from his restlessness in bed. Small waves licked at the ends of his hair as he walked towards the large windows to stare out at the slowly rising sun.

“Did you sleep?” His voice carried across the room, subtle mocking tone to it. His voice was deep and scratchy from his own rest as he cleared it softly.

He knew you were awake.

He knew you hadn’t rested.

Bastard.

You rolled onto your side, digging your hands under your head as you tightly shut your eyes, trying to calm your aggravation and disdain for your husband. When Aemond got no response, he let out a short hum as he moved about the chambers, readying himself for the day.

The maids came in a short while later and helped to dress and brush his hair, the same simple braid at the back of his head. You wondered why he wore it in such a way. Was it not Targaryen tradition to braid your hair? To wear it in intricate styles?

Why was he, a man so hell bent on tradition, inclined to wear his hair so simply?

Aemond had left the chambers and uttered a gentle, Wife to you as he left for the day, likely off to wake Aegon up and prepare him for his duties to the realm. The maids had helped you rise from bed, body heavy and mind thick with fatigue, to dress you and braid your hair for the day.

The same simple braid as Aemond.

Had you not told them the day before to braid it properly? Had Aemond commanded them to fit your hair to his style? You were too tired to correct them, and so you let the maids put your hair in the boring, common braid.

You spent the morning eating in your chambers, before you left for the day, walking down to the Godswood to sit and think. It gave you clarity, and above all a sense of protection. The Godswood was sacred, and old. As you sat beneath its leaves, you felt the small ache between your thighs and you sighed.

Would it always be like this? Would you always feel pain for days after?

You wondered how some women enjoyed it.

The sun had rose to its peak and then began to descend before you saw your uncle again.

He came to the Godswood, knowing you would be there. A creature of habit he called you. As he stood in front of you, beneath the shade of the Godswood, he let his lone eye roam down your body.

His patch was firmly on his face again.

“You look beautiful today, Princess.” He commented, no hint of mocking in his tone.

Your head tilted to the side.

The gown was a deep black, red lining within the long draping sleeves and slit of the skirt. On the neckline and shoulders, beaded dragons were embroidered with golden and red thread. Another dress you had not seen before, and it made you wonder if your mother and father had ordered for new gowns before your leave.

You looked up at Aemond as he waited for your response.

Was he expecting you to thank him?

To compliment him back?

He looked the same as he always did. Black leather tunic and pants to match, with long leather boots that came up to his mid calf. The buckles of the tunic were high on his neck, and the sleeves and chest were fitted tightly to his body.

Aemond pursed his lips as he got no response from you and hummed. A large hand came out in front of him towards you, palm up.

An offering for you to take it.

Your eyes looked to his upturned hand. In the middle of his palm was the cut from your wedding. It had almost healed now, the skin looking less raw or deep, and the scarred flesh had turned a soft pink, raised up from his palm.

His hand kept steady, waiting for you to take it.

There was no option to refuse it.

You let your own shaky hand clasp Aemond's, your scarred palm meeting his, a shiver erupting from your body. His hands were rough and calloused, but his fingers held you gently. His digits curled over yours as he slightly raised his hand and pulled it towards him, his strength lifting you from the ground amongst the roots of the tree.

He did not rip you from your spot as he had the day before.

“Walk with me.”

A demand.

And so you did.

Though as soon as you were standing you brought your hand back towards you, brushing down you skirts as an excuse to not touch him. Your hands felt clammy as anxiety rose steadily inside of you.

Aemond watched as you continued to brush your skirts, anything to delay walking with him, but if there was anything that wavered within Aemond, he did not show it. For today he was a patient man, and waited until it was clear that you were stalling, and the tension around you became so thick, that you had no choice but to meet his violet eye once more, stilling your hands.

The One-Eyed Princes lips twitched, and he hummed before turning on his feet. Though this time, he did not storm ahead of you, expecting you to chase after him on unsteady feet, or dragging you behind him. Today he waited for you to walk and stand next to him before the both of you began to walk, side by side, through the Red Keep.

Neither of you said a word as you made your way down to the garden, the sky a soft pink as you walked past blooming flowers of all kinds.

What was happening?

Was this a trick?

A trap?

Or was this a show for the court to see that your husband was not cruel, and that the treaty was working, just as the Usurper King had said it would.

The aroma of the garden curled its way around you, saturating the scent of leather and sandalwood from beside you.

“Are you well?” Aemond broke the silence again.

You let yourself look at him.

Were you well?

Was he mocking you?

His eye watched your face. No sign of anger or distaste on his own. His sharp features were calm and blank as he waited for you to respond. Patient again. You wondered how long that would last. Yet the longer you held his gaze, the longer you realised he would not be lashing out at you amongst the bright red rose bushes. You could not help but scoff quietly.

You shook your head and kept walking, turning your gaze to the flowers.

Breath in.

Breath out.

“Hm.” Aemond hummed, his eye still on you as you walked together, “I’m happy to see that the gowns are to your liking.”

You stopped in your tracks.

The gowns?

“Of course, Queen Rhaenyra and King Consort Daemon have good taste. They know my favourite tailor is-“

“In Dorne.” He interrupted you, “Marba, correct?”

And he was.

Marba was the infamous tailor in Dorne where many of your gowns were specially made for you.

You furrowed your brow.

And Aemond looked smug.

“Not a hard man to find,” He continued to walk, and you had to force your legs to meet his, “I hope they are to your liking.”

The gowns were from him.

How?

Why?

You kept your eyes on his face as you walked, almost stumbling over your feet. He looked down from his nose at you, and gave you the softest of smirks.

But it was not a cruel one.

“Why?”

He stopped to turn and face you again, looking at your gown as a hand came to gently touch the material of your sleeve, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the soft dress between his fingers.

“Why? Can’t have my wife in gowns that are not the finest in the realm.”

You held his gaze.

Why was he still dressing you in red and black?

Would he not dress you in green like his family?

“I’m surprised they’re not green.”

Aemond let out a hum of a laugh.

“Green is not your colour.” Aemond paused, “Though I have no doubt you would look just as ravishing as you do now.” A shiver ran down your spine, “But I prefer you in the colours of our House. If you were given green gowns, would you truly wear them?”

No.

You would have worn your chemise around the Keep rather than that.

Aemond took your silence as your answer.

“Hm.” He smiled, and continued to walk forward, “Can’t be having the people believe my wife is weak.”

Aemond and you did not speak much after this, just the occasional comment here or there about the Keep, or the sky. He even made comment about a shared memory from your youth.

You and Aemond had watched Helaena search in a rose bush for a centipede, her dress becoming caught on the thorns, which you and Aemond had to quickly unhook, lest the Septa yell at the young girl for ruining her gown.

You had walked around the full expanse of the garden, coming back into the Keep once the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and the sky had descended into darkness. Once inside your chambers, Aemond did not turn to the side table to fill a goblet of wine, nor did he make his way before the fire in habit as he usually did.

Aemond walked into the chambers, you alongside him, and once the chamber doors were shut he had turned to face you and took two swift steps towards you. Your entire body stiffened at the movement as he looked you up and down, a hand coming to brush a soft finger through your hair.

His eye kept on his hand.

“The King has requested we dine with him.”

Was this why he had taken you for a walk?

To butter you up?

To keep you in good spirits so that you would behave?

You sniffed as a steady fear settled in your chest.

“He is no King of mine.”

“Hm. Regardless, we have been summoned.” His eye moved to your face, and you could not bear it.

You moved across the room, and Aemond followed you. You sat on the chaise and looked into the flames as Aemond joined you in his armchair. You both watched in silence as the fire licked at the logs inside.

It was as if you were both preparing yourself for the night.

As if you both needed a moment to collect yourself before you would, once again, be mocked by your eldest uncle. You sat together for some time as you observed a log halved in size, and slowly turned to ash. It's shape crumbling down to the bottom of the hearth, before a knight came to collect you both.

Aemond stood slowly before walking over to you, offering you, again, a hand.

You stared at it in thought.

It would do you no good to continue to push him to anger. He would always turn it on you, and you would face the wrath that came to him so easily, a wrath in which you would have brought upon yourself. You thought of the Septa’s lessons.

You had to behave.

You took his hand and he helped you to stand, his fingers twitching around yours as he smiled down at you. Such a soft smile, it made your heart clench and your side itch as you looked at it.

A genuine smile from the kinslayer.

It had been so long since you had witnessed him smile like that.

You blinked and looked down at the floor, Aemond moving to take you through the chambers, not having let go of your hand. It wasn’t until you were both outside of the chambers did he release you, to tuck his own behind his back as he always did. You followed the movement, holding one wrist in your hand, squeezing tightly as you walked to the Kings chambers.

The walk was not long, and in no time at all, you found yourself at the doors of the chambers where you had been frequently as a child, watching your Grandsire complete his model of Valyria with loving care.

The doors were just as large as you remembered, and you felt a sense of dread to enter.

How much would it have changed since your Grandsires passing?

Would his model still be there?

Or would every last memory of him be discarded and replaced with green?

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you stared at the doors, the knights not having opened them yet as Aemond looked down at you from your side. Your heart raced in your chest, and anxiety spread icily through your body.

“Breathe.” Aemond whispered to you as the two knights began to open the doors.

You did as he commanded and walked forward into the chambers beside your husband.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen and his Lady Wife, Y/n Velaryon.” Ser Criston Cole announced to the chambers as you entered.

You let your eyes roam around the space. Not much had changed, and that was your first surprise. Your second surprise, was that the large miniature of Valyria still sat tall in the middle of the chambers before the fire.

It was still there.

You ignored the world around you as you stepped forward to look at it. There was a fine layer of dust on the model, though nothing had been destroyed or added. It was left to be there as it had the day he died. You lifted a hand to touch it, as if it was not real.

To feel for yourself that it was truly there.

“His lasting legacy.” Came the snicker of Aegon to the side of you.

You pulled your hand back behind you as you turned your head to face him.

Aegon sat at the large table before the balcony doors. He was dressed in green robes, the neck loosened by two buttons undone at the top, and a hand rested on the table with his chin in his palm. The bags under his eyes were dark, and his skin looked paler than usual. Perhaps he was ill? Or perhaps it was the ale. As you continued to observe him, a soft glint caught your eye.

A large gold ring shone on his pinky finger and you immediately recognised it.

Helaenas ring.

You bristled.

Aemond's hand came to touch the small of your back gently, and you hated that it grounded you in that moment.

Alicent Hightower stood behind her eldest son, looking out the balcony at the realm, as the soft white curtains billowed around her from the evenings breeze. She almost looked like a ghost the way she stood there motionless, not having turned to greet you as she normally would have.

Trained for court interactions.

“Princess,” Came the low drawl of the Hightower Patriarch, “It is good to see that you are fairing well.”

Otto Hightower sat beside his grandson on the table as he looked at you. He wore dark grey robes with fur trimming around the neck, and hints of green within the stitching and side panels of his coat. His hair had greyed considerably since the last time you had been in Kings Landing and you wondered if this was due to illness or stress.

Aemond’s thumb rubbed on your back as he put pressure on you, urging you to move forward wordlessly and gently.

Why was he being so soft today?

It sent your mind reeling.

Was he regretful?

Had Alicent reprimanded him?

Was he reminded of the delicacy of the treaty?

Was he afraid that he would break you?

Or was he simply in a better mood?

You took slow steps towards the table, Aemond on your side, moving together to your seats. Your uncle pulled out a chair for you, and you let yourself sit in it, pulling the chair forward to the table, Aemond seating himself beside you.

“Thought you had grown mad like Helaena.” Aegon mocked, and you felt Aemond stiffen beside you.

Alicent snapped her head to look at her son, finally breaking away from her spot beside the window as she came over to the table quickly, standing behind his chair. Tension between the mother and son was thick. Her stance behind him was menacing.

A silent threat.

You had remembered when you were young that Alicent was not the kindest of mothers, nor the most understanding. You had remembered Aegon or Aemond complaining of being slapped by the Queen on more than one occasion. Aegon mostly being hit rather than Aemond, though more than once, Aemond had faced the brunt of her frustrations simply for being in the closest proximity to her.

Aegon let out a huff of a laugh as he pulled his wine to his lips, sipping from his cup, eyes over the rim looking at you. He ignored his mothers presence looming behind him, and it gave you the impression that Aegon was used to her wrathful gaze, and bursts of violence.

It simply didn’t faze him.

He looked as though he expected and knew what was coming. That he had made his peace with it a very long time ago.

Almost as sure as the sun would rise, so would Alicent’s temper. You supposed the both of you had that one, simple thing in common. And it most certainly passed on to her second son.

Alicent finally seated herself beside the King, opposite to you and Aemond, and dipped her head down as she brought her hands up onto the table. Aemond followed his mother immediately and bowed his head down, hands crossed above his plate as she began a prayer. You looked amongst the table to find Otto in prayer too, but beside him, Aegon stared at you, smirk pulling wider and wider on his face as he sipped from his goblet.

You stared at each other as neither of you moved to pray with the Dowager Queen. He lifted his eyebrows at you sharply as Alicent came to the end of her prayer, and Aemond’s violet eye lifted to catch you and Aegon in a locked gaze.

The table was full of food, and goblets of wine sat in far more quantity than was needed. There was a large roasted turkey on the table, and steaming legs of lamb with vegetables piled high around it. Aemond reached forward and began to fill your plate for you. He placed your favourite foods on the plate, and skilfully avoided the roasted eggplant. Your least favourite food.

He had remembered.

“Have you settled into your chambers?” Alicent asked stiffly, as a way to redirect the conversation. As though the anger and resentment towards her son had drifted away with the breeze coming in from the balcony and the small prayer given at the table.

You let your head turn to look at Aemond beside you, not answering. He didn’t take his eye away from serving himself, but you knew he felt you watching him. You decided to not respond to her question, and so she redirected her attention to Aemond, asking him of how he spent his day. He told her with great gentleness that he had been to the library to read over some texts, and then went for a walk through the gardens with you.

Aemond trailed off awkwardly as all of you began eating.

Stiff conversation floated about the table, and you wondered if the stiffness came from your presence, or if the Greens had always been this dysfunctional with each other. You had never dined with them alone, not even before the war, and it made you wonder if your presence actually brought any tension to the table at all. It seemed that there was enough already there naturally without you.

The food from your plate slowly disappeared as you ate in silence, desperately avoiding lifting your gaze, lest they drag you into the hollow conversation of the room. You moved a large piece of potato around your plate before stabbing it with your fork, bringing it to your lips to chew.

“Such a delight to have you join us.” Aegon directed his voice to you, most likely having sensed your avoidance, and so you let your gaze meet his.

His violet eyes lit up in delight.

“I have missed sharing meals with my niece.” He smiled, food in his mouth.

You frowned.

“It’s a shame my other nephews aren’t here to join us.”

The air fell still.

“Quite a shock when Aemond came home from Storms End to tell us what had happened.”

Heat rose in your body and you loudly dropped your cutlery back onto the table, hands pulling into fists as you gawked at him.

“Didn’t think my brother had it in him.”

You sprung from your chair, the seat falling backwards behind you with a heavy crash. Your chest rose and fell as Aegon smiled up at you. Otto and Alicent watched you with careful eyes as you stared the false King down.

It could be so easy.

To just launch yourself across the table, knife in hand.

Would any of them be quick enough to stop you? If you lodged the blade into his throat and watched blood pour from his mouth as he drowned in it?

“Y/n,” Aemond’s voice broke you from your thoughts, “Sit.”

Aegon laughed loudly in his seat as he watched Aemond look up at you.

“Listen to your husband.” Aegon smiled, and your fingers twitched, looking down at the knife on the table.

It could be so easy.

Ser Cole came across the chambers towards you, towering over you, hand on the hilt of his sword. You bristled as you felt Aemond’s hand on your elbow, gently holding it, not tightly grabbing it, as he whispered to you.

“Abrazȳrys.” Wife.

You jerked your arm from Aemond's grip, a loud laugh falling from Aegon’s lips at the gesture, as you slowly sat back down in your seat, eyes not leaving your eldest uncle before you, nor Ser Coles presence leaving your side.

The air was thick in the room as Ser Cristin stood on your flank, watching every movement you made as your hand twitched to grab the knife. It made you even more angry. You felt caged between him and the man beside you. Your uncle Aegon smiled at you smugly in enjoyment.

Alicent’s voice flitted across the table, trying to disarm the rising tension. Her low voice asked if there was anything that you needed in your chambers, noting that she had sent your letter to your family by raven, and that they would swiftly give you their response.

You ignored her attempts of conversation, keeping your eyes on the Usurper King who leant lazily back in his chair, goblet of wine in his hand smiling at you.

He had won.

Aemond stood slowly, looking at the table, excusing you both with the gentle words of needing rest for the morrow.

A small mercy.

Aegon bid you a delighted good night, and you felt the heated gaze of the room on the both of your backs as you raced out of the chamber doors, leaving Aemond to chase behind you.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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thesweetnessofspring · 5 months

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Your tag about Peeta exploding at Katniss’s thoughts makes me just appreciate so much how soft she is with him throughout the books. The boy would cry if he read her thoughts about how she can’t live without him and can only feel certain feelings around him. I like to think once they’ve grown back together and she’s more forthcoming with her thoughts there are several moments where his brain turns off from Katniss’s intense affection.

"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." (Mr. Knightley, Emma by Jane Austen) is such a Katniss sentiment. Even though she loves Prim, we never see her directly comment to Prim all of her wonderful qualities, although she thinks it.

Of course, Peeta has been through a lot more mentally and emotionally than Prim, especially with his hijacking (though she's had her fair share, too!). I think that when they grow back together, they go to couples counseling here and there and part of what Katniss learns is how to speak her feelings to Peeta. And it's hard for her at first. To say to him that he's the only one whose arms she feels safe in is so vulnerable, isn't it enough she goes to his arms in the first place? Can't he see that she loves him? But when she hears that he still thinks about how he almost killed her, that he worries she'll stop feeling safe with him one day, that she'll see him for the mutt he is, she puts aside her hesitation and begins to speak up more about everything he means to her.

And it's simple at first. A random "I love you." Then she shares more. "I love spending time with you." "You make me so happy." And more. "The way your hair shines in the sun is so beautiful." "You keep me so safe, I love you, I trust you." And then, the one that really knocks him dead: "I would have chosen you, every time, no matter what."

And it gets easier for her not just because she finally has clarity on her feelings, but also because the way Peeta reacts is everything to her. She realizes just how deep his pain goes, of feeling unlovable and not enough, ever since he was a child. The simple compliments make his eyes light up and a blush to his cheeks, and she always gets a hug and kiss for it. Then she gets more specific, and at first he stops and can't process what she means. "Beautiful? You think I'm beautiful?" Followed by some mind-blowing sex because nothing else for them can show just how much they love and need each other.

Thank you for your thoughts nonny! 😘

#everlark #everlark headcanons #anon ask

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theladyyavilee · 21 days

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okay so I am kinda working on an edit to work through my feelings about bi!buck and I kinda have a crowdsource request for you all

I know that for most of us queer fans that moment right after the kiss - buck's facial expression and his whole demeanor, the way he looks like oh this makes sense, this fits, I GET IT NOW, I can't believe I can feel this way, the relief and the possibility and the freedom and getting to exhale, this moment of clarity, of things coming into focus, the oh finally, the giddy joy and the almost disbelief at the immensity of this feeling and like oliver said the way it feels liberating - that was the moment that hit really really really hard, because we have all had that moment, it's a feeling you kinda can never really forget and I for one can never thank oliver enough for how well he portrayed that specific feeling that is so intrinsic to realizing your own queerness

so if like me, you had that moment too and you remember that feeling so well that it almost hurts and seeing that moment on screen made you even more emotional than you had expected, would you be willing to put the word/short phrase you'd use to describe that feeling into the tags of this post? <3

#9-1-1 #911 abc #evan buckley #bi!buck

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yellowbunnydreams · 5 months

Text

Mechanised Devotion (Part 8) ~Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader~

~I am staying up stupid late to write more for the big-man fan-club and I have ZERO regrets. Except maybe that paper I'm procrastinating on. I'll be making a masterlist soon so there won't be so much clutter on these posts linking to all the parts. Also, changed the title so that there was more clarity for people picking out this story~

Word count so far (all parts:) 14,593

Tag List!: @ruh--roh-raggy @likoplays

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, afab reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 40's), mention of crimes and violence, blood, mentions of child death (it's FNAF, what did you expect?), past trauma; abusive relationships. Trophy taking, panty stealing (never thought I'd write that), William being a perv, masturbation, voyeurism if you squint?

The weekend had been long and somehow all too quick after Steve dropped you back at your house. Handing you an envelope with your pay check in cash, apologising that it had taken so long to get to you, but there had been some delays since he had reported the Spring Bonnie animatronic supposedly moving and the owner needed to investigate. The pay check came with some elegant handwriting that apologised for the inconvenience, but that you should be made aware that the animatronic might possibly roam around still. Precautions would be taken to try and assure your safety however.

You scoffed as you read it, and put it down on your bedside table as you thumbed through the cash, eyes widening as you counted. There was almost two hundred dollars more than you expected, and you felt as if you were going to faint as you realised that the money was probably compensation of some sort. Silence money about what had happened at the restaurant.

Smiling to yourself, you wondered if you should treat Steve to a meal like he had done for you when you got the job. Thinking that that would be a nice thing for him. You touched the top of your head, patting it slowly as if trying to get the same feeling from where had patted your head so affectionately but your smaller, lighter hands couldn't replicate it.

Steve had handed you your uniform back as well, seeming sheepish as he apologised, it seemed that his old dryer had taken your delicates and eaten them, or possibly slipped in-between the drum and the motor in the back, which would basically mean that they were more than likely shredded up at that point. You'd laughed about it, telling him not to worry about it, it wasn't like it was your only pair after all. Raglan had laughed with you, despite the fact that as he spoke, he knew exactly where they were. They were in a little box on his bedside drawer, your name attached to a little tag tied carefully onto the cotton fabric. The date they had been 'collected' too. He wanted something of yours to recall that initial assault vividly with. A shudder had passed through his body as he wondered how many he could possibly take from you. How many firsts of yours would he end up being if you continued to feed his dark desires by being so naive about the intentions of the old killer.

It was with a great reluctance that you had pulled on thick work trousers and a blouse, the Freddy's jacket over the top as you got ready to go back to work. Steve had almost begged you to keep going, the owner clearly liked you enough to investigate the complaint, and having received a lot more money than you anticipated, you felt some obligation that you needed to return to Freddy's and continue being a good employee.

The walk felt longer than usual, but you supposed that they last time you had walked it, you had feared for your life. Tonight was slightly different to the last time you walked there, as a cop car pulled up and flickered the lights for a moment, forcing you to pause and wait to speak to the officer.

The tinted window rolled down and revealed a young woman who didn't look too much older than yourself. Her blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail and her grey eyes tired with bags beneath them despite the warm and friendly smile she gave you.

"Well I apologise ma'am, but you were speeding." She joked, making you laugh as you realised it was probably more a friendly check in than anything else. Relaxing slightly, you shrugged your shoulders and held up your hands in mock surrender.

"Sorry officer, I'll walk slower and more depressed next time." Watching as the cop cracked a smile before nodding over to the passenger side of the car.

"You work at Freddy's right, jump on in. I was heading there actually, it's on my rounds and I wanted to check in."

At the thought of not having to walk the rest of the way, you eagerly climbed into the car, clicking your seatbelt into place and allowing the cop to drive off towards the pizzeria. Glad you were out of dying sunlight and able to save your legs, especially since you would have to carry two bags back with you. A small pack with a toolkit inside it as you decided you were also going to take your own security precautions against the violent bunny.

"Hey, what happened to the back of your head? You're all bandaged up." The woman besides her frowned, glancing at you and staring as you reached up and touched the bandages on the back of your head. You were luckily mostly healed after a weekend of rest, but you felt self-conscious about it still.

"Oh it was um..an accident at work, don't worry, I promise I'm fine." You smiled reassuringly, adjusting your hair to try and hide the bandages a little better. Feeling your cheeks burning in shame as the woman made a non-committal hum before turning her attention back to the road.

The drive was mercifully short and you couldn't escape the car fast enough, hoping that the drive was informal introduction to the local law, but your stomach sank slightly as you watched the woman climb out too and lock up her car. Gesturing for you to lead the way in, she seemed confident as she moved through the hallways, knowing exactly where she was headed, which you supposed that she would considering she said Freddy's was part of her rounds.

"Have you seen them yet?" The blonde asked, making you raise and eyebrow quizzically and shrug your shoulders, that cold feeling in your stomach growing as she spoke vaguely.

"If you mean the guys on stage, yeah, you could say that." You sighed, heading into the office and feeling a little surprised as you noticed your possessions that you left in a neat pile on the desk, organised in a meticulous pile and your bag sat on your chair compared to the dusty flood where you had left it fleeing.

"The 'guys'." The blonde laughed, shaking her head and leaning against the desk as you flipped the breaker. Watching the monitors as you always did to see them power on, glad to see the camera that was down was also fixed whilst you were away. "wow, did your mom not take you to Freddy's growing up?"

"I'm not from here, so no, I had never heard of it until I got this job." You answer slightly curtly, anxious to see if the animatronics would move. Wondering if you would have to deal with a freaking out cop who was armed as well as things like Foxy deciding to try clawing down your door again. Pulling out a piece of paper and some crayons that you kept in the drawer, you began to doodle, making the woman raise a curious eyebrow.

"I'm Vanessa, by the way." You paused your movements and answered her with your own name, receiving a nod of acknowledgement from Vanessa as you continued drawing.

"So, what on Earth are you doing doodling on the job?" She asked, wondering what your answer was, recognising a crude picture of the animatronics, what she recognised as you and a crude picture of herself too. All with smiles and holding hands together. On another piece of paper, you drew another Foxy and a sad looking security guard, making sure to give Foxy red eyes and an open mouth with lots of sharp teeth.

"You'll see, potentially." You answered, looking up at the monitors and noticing that Freddy had decided to move from his spot on stage. Soon hearing the familiar 'thunk' of his footsteps and watching as he came into view of your door. Pausing quizzically outside with his ears wiggling, seeming surprised that your door was open and that there was another person inside.

Holding up the drawing of all of them, you showed it to Freddy, who seemed to look at it intensely before raising his eyebrows and doing his silent laugh and ear-wiggles. A sign you had interpreted as the animatronic being happy with some relief.

"You...You know about them?" Vanessa asked, looking shocked towards you, paling slightly as she glanced between you and Freddy in the doorway, leaving it your turn to frown suspiciously at the cop and cross your arms across your chest.

"And so do you by the sounds of it." Raising an eyebrow and trying not to crack a smile as you noticed the bear from the corner of your eye mimicking your expression somewhat.

"Uh... Yeah, I um.. I've known for a while, most people just...leave...when they find out about this though."

"Apart from Foxy and that creepy fucking rabbit, I've not really had any issues." You explain, shrugging your shoulders and taking a seat back at the desk, chewing at your lip as Freddy decided to wander back into the restaurant, seemingly content that you had company for the night.

"Bonnie is not that creepy." Vanessa said, scuffing her shoe across the floor, looking out down the hall and glancing up at one of the hidden cameras she knew her father had installed to keep an eye on the place.

"No, that spring Bonnie thing, the yellow one? Creepy as hell and a violent shit too." You laughed bitterly, reminding you to reach into your bag and take out your tool kit as well as some thick grating that you had picked up from a supply store.

Vanessa froze as you mentioned the yellow rabbit, her heart beating quickly in her chest and stomach sinking as she glanced over your injuries once more. The fading pattern of bruises across your throat making her feel sick to her stomach as she realised that it was all too familiar to her. And the fact you had a small scar across your cheek, she guessed it came from a blade, taking a deep breath and trying to steel her own nerves as she realised you had met her father.

At least, you had been convinced it was an animatronic, and not a person inside the suit.

"I'm surprised that thing still moves." She laughed nervously, biting her lip as she watched you working before she stood up, slapping her thighs and making you jump as you attempted to fit the new vent cover. "Hey, I got other places to check, but it was nice meeting you, stay safe you hear me?"

You smiled at her, and watched as she dug into her pocket, pulling out a business card with her number on it, handing it over and smiling with something like nerves making her eyes betray her concern for you.

"How about we meet in a few days, I can try to get you some more info on this place and you can possibly give you some tips?"

"Sure, that sounds nice Vanessa." You said, a little surprised at the offer, but accepting, watching the woman leave your office and heading towards the front doors your had both entered by. Shaking your head as you continued with your work after she had gone.

Raglan had taken out the box from his nightstand as he watched the cameras on his laptop again, listening to your conversation with Vanessa with a frown. But he knew that his daughter had enough braincells left in her head to realise betraying him wasn't a great idea, smirking as he thought of you falling further into his tangle of lies and deceit. His fingers brushed over the box and he opened it cautiously, thick calloused fingers brushing against the delicate fabric that made up the panties he had taken as a little trophy, taking them out of the box, he couldn't held as his thumb ran over the thin fabric that would have laid against your sex. Feeling himself twitching in his pants with groan as he tried to imagine if you were wet for him as his fingers had wrapped around your throat.

He pawed at himself slowly, trying to get some relief from his rapidly hardening cock as he thought about how you had cried for him on the Friday night. Called his pretend name like some whispered prayer and fell asleep against him, oblivious to the knife being played with above your head.

The delicious way you had tried to fight against your own body as he drew that very same knife up the inside of you leg. How you had trembled like a scared little thing as your mouth hung open uselessly, a silent scream as he had felt his own heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He gripped himself through his slacks and stroked slowly, savouring the shivers that went through his body and biting his lip to stifle a growl. Steve could only imagine how pretty you would look choking on him, tears in your eyes and fighting to breathe around him. Maybe he would be kind to you and grip your shaking body close as he explored all the marks and scars he could imagine inflicting on your practically unblemished skin.

Growling frustratedly, he squeezed himself before reluctantly removing his hand and feeling himself throbbing hungrily. Glancing at the screen where he watched you taking a seat at your desk and throwing your head over the back-rest, making him hiss in delight as he ached to have his fingers back around your throat.

As much as he wanted to continue the fantasy in his head, he looked at his trophy longingly before running his lips over the fabric, imagining how you would flinch away from his hot breath. Or maybe how your soft thighs would squeeze around his head and let him listen to your racing pulse in your femoral artery, how easy it would be to turn and bite, letting the warmth spill across his sheets.

The throbbing in his slacks made him groan as if in pain, shakily putting back the delicate prize and letting the faint smell of you linger against him, focusing on the screen again to watch you through your shift. Licking him his lips as he let his hand wander across his groin again, breathing a little ragged as his fingers twitched around him despite the fabric separating him from his own skin. Still refusing to give in to the promise of release.

Steve Raglan was a patient man after all. And the thought of waiting in anticipation to ruin such a sweet thing made the wait all the more bittersweet for himself.

#fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #springtrap #springtrap x reader #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader #william afton #william afton smut #william afton x reader #william afton x you

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bg-brainrot · 1 month

Text

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 16: More than Friends Pt. 2

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, death mentions/violence, a metric shit ton of exposition, lots of feelings

WC: 7.9k words, 16/?? chapters

Summary: After talking through the previous night's tryst, emotions are confused, pasts are divulged, and everything comes to a head when your heart and soul want different things.

A/N: I know I put this warning in ch 1, but warning that the smut is always going to be more about their ~feelings~ than actual smut, so like, be forewarned and don’t expect too much 🔥!

Ao3 | [Ch15][Ch17] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

You wake up for your eighteenth day with Astarion noting the distinct lack of Astarion at your side.

Where he had been laying last night, you only see the vague outline of his shape in the sheets. The sight is enough to sink your stomach to the ground as the morning clarity hits.

Gods below, why did we do that? you think to yourself, gripping your face between your hands.

It had been too much too fast. Everything had happened so quickly, so desperately, that you can’t recall anything outside of his single-minded drive to devour you. You yourself had been in such a frenzy to forget, that you haven’t the faintest how Astarion might be feeling right now.

You knew going into this that he might never feel any love for you at all, romantic or otherwise– That was a risk you had been willing to take. Last night was just another risk you had been willing to take... Right?

But hells are you afraid that that risk came at the cost of all of your efforts thus far. You're a grown adult, you made your choice in the heat of the moment, but is it so bad that you regret it in the stark light of day?

And what a moment it had been– like nothing mattered except feeling alive in his arms. It was enough for you to lose yourself, feel like someone you weren’t and could never be. But you fear that it's gone a step too far this time. You hadn't even determined if you loved the man. Did you?

You sit with that question for a few minutes, staring off into space.

Eventually your stomach grumbles, and, after not having eaten at all the day before, you know you need to get up.

What am I going to say to him? you wonder, getting out of bed and heading to your wardrobe. You notice the previous day’s robes strewn across the floor haphazardly and your mind swims with images of last night.

What if he regrets it completely? Am I ready for that? you think, trying your best to shove down all images of his beautiful pale face, shiny with sweat and overexertion.

Your body aches and you notice marks from Astarion's bruising lips littering your body in trails– yet more proof of what you'd done. Will he even want to talk to me?

Dressed, spells readied, and stomach screaming for relief, you leave your room for the kitchen. You decide that if Astarion joins you, you won't avoid him, but you're not quite prepared to seek him out just yet.

When you open your door, you find the man waiting for you, leaning against the opposite wall with a book in hand.

The book snaps closed. "Good morning," he says, a cheery tone betraying none of his real emotions. "Mortal meal time is it?"

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

The air is awkward, the previous night all but playing on loop in your head as you follow him to the kitchen. Astarion's posture remains straight, his eyes forward as he walks, and you wonder what he's thinking. If his thoughts are as lurid as your own.

The silence continues as you enter the kitchen.

It persists even as you prepare your meal.

You sit down after putting together your breakfast, unsure if you should be the one to break the silence or he should be.

After what feels like an eternity, he does so. “That was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

You knew this was a possibility. That Astarion wasn’t in his right mind when faced with loss. But it still doesn’t make your insides churn any less. It doesn’t twist your heart any less. “It might have been,” is all you can offer in response, distracting yourself with a spoonful of eggs.

Astarion considers you for a moment, as if he hadn't expected you to agree that easily. He clears his throat and continues, “We just were caught up in the moment.”

“We were,” you offer numbly, thinking of how the moment practically picked you up and threw you over its shoulder– at the very least of how Astarion threw your leg over his shoulder.

He watches you shuffle the eggs about your plate, waiting for you to say more. When you don't, he sighs and continues, “I was mad and I took it out on you. Mind you, I am still quite upset at you.”

Oh good, you think. Not only is he crushing every piece of my heart, but he’s also planning to blame himself and lecture me. You only focus on the blame, “You didn’t do anything of the sort.”

You don’t look up to see his expression, but if his tone is any indication, he’s getting frustrated. “I think we need some time to sort out… well, all of this. Should we take some time apart today?”

“Perhaps," you say, finally looking up from your plate to see his rich red eyes as conflicted as you feel currently. You half expect him to protest his own suggestion, to change his mind, for something to happen here–but it doesn't. He simply scoots his chair back.

“To be entirely honest, I don’t really want to.” He chuckles humorlessly as he gets up. “I’ve gotten quite… used to you being around. Though I don’t suppose ‘used to you’ is what you want to hear?”

“Not particularly,” you admit, though you're not certain what you do want to hear either.

He gives an uncomfortable nod and turns away from you. “I shall see you later then?”

“You shall,” you agree. You find that you don’t have a lot of words for him– Nothing that would make either of you feel better at least. All you do find is an ache deep in your chest, an ache comprised of regret and fear.

That's how you finish the rest of your breakfast alone, lost in thoughts ranging from the feel of his tongue tracing your body to how royally everything has gone to the Nine Hells.

You spend the rest of the day holed up in your room, practicing your magic, cursing yourself for falling into such a vulnerable position. To destroy everything you'd built with Astarion with your weakness was a sin you may never fully atone for.

On your nineteenth day in the house, you expect Astarion to avoid you again. After all, for you a single day apart had only led you deeper and deeper into a pit of guilt.

For Astarion, one day was clearly more than enough.

"Good morning, darling," he says, as you open your door. Unlike yesterday's cheer, this one seems genuine. "Right as rain now, aren't we?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, sure that you don’t look right as rain. You likely look like someone who couldn’t fall into their reverie all night and subsequently spent it cleaning clothes, foot by foot, with the Prestidigitation cantrip. “Are we?” you ask him, disbelieving.

“I certainly am,” Astarion says with a fanged smile. “I’ve taken some time to myself. To, ugh, think about things.” He gives a dramatic little eye roll, but you note a gulp run down his throat– he’s nervous.

Gods above, you think. This is it. The final blow he delivers as he tells me to leave and never return.

“While I won’t lie and say something saccharine about how much I love you, I think I know what I can do,” he says, giving you a sad, anxious little smile. “Can I come in?”

You nod, surprised at the turn in conversation. Why is he so nervous? You allow him past you into the room. Trying your best not to think about the last time Astarion was in this room, you follow.

Luckily, you’ve cleaned the room thoroughly, folded all of your robes, even laid the Sending Stone on top for its return to Dalyria. If you didn’t know any better, nothing at all happened in this room a few nights ago. You sit on your bed, turn to him, and say, “So what exactly did you have in mind?”

"Yes, well, I've decided I know what I need to do to help me… move on," he says, expression uncertain despite his words. You distantly recall a memory of Astarion and your past-self making love on his grave, and you're momentarily horrified at what his idea might be. Seeing the look on your face, he clicks his tongue and says, "Stop that. Whatever you're imagining is certainly not it."

“Okay,” you start, moving over on the bed to make room for him, patting it as an invitation. “What did you have in mind?”

Astarion takes the spot next to you and says, “I think I need to tell you how your past-life died. To… process it in a way.”

You think you must have heard him wrong. Surely he isn’t about to answer the question you’d asked him nearly two weeks ago, the one that all but stabbed him in the heart? But he is, because he looks at you, eyes clouded over with sadness and perhaps a few tears. You can feel the determination in his gaze.

“I would really appreciate that,” you respond, honestly, but not too eagerly. “Whatever you can tell me.”

He settles in and you see his mouth work, as if tasting the words on his tongue before he commits to them. Eventually he says, “They died an early death, as you know.”

You know, but you also don’t plan on rushing this conversation, so you nod along. You debate holding his hand as a means of support, but decide against it, simply leaving your hand between you in case he needs it.

“They were… getting something,” he continues, and you can feel the hesitation as he gets the words out, red eyes darting toward you and away again. You can’t help but wonder how much of your day apart he’d spent trying to prepare for this. How much pain he had rehashed to try to right things between you.

“What were they getting?” you ask, tentatively. Something about the way he holds back makes you wonder if it’s because he finds it difficult to talk about or because he simply doesn’t want to offer the information.

“Does it matter?” Astarion replies, with a little wave of his hand. “All that matters is that they wanted it more than anything. Certainly more than I did.”

His voice turns bitter toward the end, and you regret prodding. Perhaps, at least while he opens up, you shouldn’t tread any further than necessary. All you can do is keep the conversation flowing and take a step back as Astarion explains. “They went to go get this… thing then?”

“Naturally,” he says with a sigh. “Where we were– you’re familiar with necromantic magic I presume?”

“Yes.” It’s certainly not your area of expertise, but you've studied it well enough.

“We were in a place filled with it.” His voice grows distant, gaze settling somewhere in the far corner of the room as he recalls the events of the day. “Normally, it wouldn’t bother me– undead and all. But it chilled us both to our very bones. I wanted to turn back. We should have turned back.”

You hear the regret plain as day. The words he’s not saying, I should have convinced them.

Astarion’s voice is flat as he continues, “But they insisted.”

“Of course,” you say, remembering your dreams. They had prepared. They had researched. Surely they wouldn’t have turned back at the eleventh hour. “They thought they could do it.”

He snorts and turns his head back to you. “I always end up with fools, don’t I?” You try not to let your heart thrill at the idea that you’re the other fool. “Yes, they did. And I… I got mad. I left them on their own. Maybe they would still be alive if I had stayed with them.”

There it is again, the regret. You wish you could clean the slate, wipe away whatever poisonous thoughts have burrowed into his mind in the past 150 years. But such is easier wished than done. “You might both have died.”

“Would that have been so bad?” he mutters a bit too pensively for your comfort. You want to respond, but he continues before you can, “I’m but a selfish man, darling. I’m not above resting on my laurels. I grew complacent. They never did.”

You can’t imagine they would– find it hard to imagine yourself growing complacent either, but you could hardly say so to Astarion. “So… what happened after you left them?”

A shaky breath. “They went off on their own to find what they wanted. By the time I heard their call for help, I was too late to make it back.” He drops his eyes to the floor before you, and you’re left unsure what to do, what to say. You recall your dream, his panicked cries as he searched for you, and you can’t help but get lost in the memory yourself.

“I dreamt that,” you finally say. “I heard you coming for me, but I couldn’t move, could barely breathe. I had no idea what was happening to me.”

“It was a trap,” he says as a way of explanation. “A Cloudkill that overtook the entire room. The doors locked, there was no leaving, no healing. By the time I managed to find them and get in, they were….”

They were practically dead already, your mind supplies easily. You want to say sorry, but how could you apologize? You know who they were, he knows who they were– their death wasn’t something Astarion could have prevented, any more than they could have forced him to do something he didn’t want to. So you don’t apologize, merely put a hand over his and squeeze.

He seems to appreciate the gesture, squeezing your hand back, lifting his head a bit, and continuing, “They told me to get out and I did. Maybe it was cowardice, maybe it was survival instinct.” He shakes his head, looking at your intertwined hands. “But if I hadn’t gotten out when they told me to, I likely would have died too.”

“Thank you,” you say. “For listening to them.”

He smiles at you, sadly, before continuing his tale. “I went back to retrieve them after disabling the traps, but it was too late to Revivify and the body was too damaged for Raise Dead. The necromantic magic ran deep– even Gale had no idea on how to counteract it.”

You wonder where they possibly could have been that even an archmage like Gale didn’t know what to do. And what in the hells could have been so important that they sought out such a place?

“I’m so sorry. You did all that you could,” you say, knowing full well that platitudes were meaningless when faced with such a loss. You hope they are some kind of comfort to him anyway.

Astarion’s cold hand leaves yours as he turns his whole body to face you on the bed. “No, I didn’t.“ His expression is hard as he continues, voice filled with anger, “I should have fought them. I should have assured them we didn’t need to be there. And if I wasn’t enough for them, I should have made myself enough for them.”

He looks to be on the verge of tears, eyes lined in pink, moisture pooling at the corners. You had already struggled to find the words before, but in the face of his real, physical pain, you are left speechless, as if your throat is filled with sand.

You’re suddenly reminded of one of the reveries you’d had all those years ago– of how your former self couldn’t stop weeping after witnessing Astarion’s heartache and pain upon killing Cazador. Again, it’s as if his pain is your pain, and you can feel rivulets of tears begin to spill down your cheeks. “Astarion…”

The vampire is surprised to see your tears, his red eyes opening wide as he reaches out to cup your face. “Darling, please don’t cry,” he begs, thumbing away each tear as it begins to drop.

You would stop crying if you had any sort of control over these tears, but you don’t. Your heart aches for him, for his grief. More than anything, you wish you could take the pain away.

An ill-timed thought flits through your mind, asking you the question, so you do love him?

You haven’t the time to ponder it, because Astarion is frantically trying to distract you, his own tears dry before they even touch his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I thought that this would be helpful. It’s been a bit of a disaster, hasn’t it?”

You shake your head, still trapped between his hands. “No, I’m sorry. I–I didn’t mean to–” your voice comes out thick with tears and you swallow to collect yourself. “I didn’t mean to derail you, I just–” You just what? Care for him? Worse yet, love him? The words die on your lips and you simply shake your head again.

Astarion takes your silence as something else entirely. “You have no need to apologize. You’re right. I don’t have the right to blame myself. I suppose it’s easier than facing the alternative.”

You wipe away your last lingering tears and look at him intently. “The alternative?” you can’t help but ask, unsure of where Astarion’s mind is heading.

“That nothing I could have done would have mattered. That our love alone could simply never be enough,” he says, dropping his hands from your face. He looks at you with a miserable, wry smile, a smile hiding decades worth of pain.

You want to say, no, that that could never be the case. That their love was present until their very dying breath. But they’re all statements you’ve said before, statements that Astarion couldn’t and wouldn’t believe. So instead you ask him, “Why would you think that?”

“Because they were misguided,” he answers, his smile dropping a smidge. “They thought that they always needed to… help. They thought they were helping, but couldn’t see beyond that. I didn’t want their help, I just wanted them.”

His words have a beautiful, painful honesty to them, and you wonder if he’s ever said them aloud to anyone before. You would consider yourself lucky to have heard them, if only it wasn’t your soul that caused them. “I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me,” you begin, gauging his expression as you speak. “But I could feel their love for you in every dream. It was their love for you that brought me here.” In your mind you think, It’s their love for you that confuses my own feelings, even still.

Astarion looks at you, eyes soft as he absorbs your words. “Yes. I know that deep down somewhere, I suppose.” Then, after one more shaky breath, he stands up. “Well, that’s enough of that. That was utterly exhausting, wasn’t it?” he says with a laugh.

“Are we… done?” you ask, getting up after him. You still had so many questions, so many pieces of the puzzle were still missing.

He simply looks back at you with pursed lips and says, “What did you expect? A full reenactment? Gods darling, I’m talented, but not that talented.”

You blink at him, all but frozen in place as you debate what to do. You can’t push him of course. Not only would it not be right, but you find that you don’t want to. He’s relived enough of his past today. But you also can’t let this lie while so many truths are still buried, waiting for you to uncover them.

I need to send a message to Dal tonight, arrange a meeting with her , you think. I’ll do it while Astarion is asleep. After all, what’s one more sleepless night for a scholar like yourself?

You finally follow after Astarion, as he already speaks of your plans for the day. He asks you what you’ll be having for breakfast, you answer casually. You’re surprised by how easily you go on about your day, almost forgetting what happened between you.

Of course, you can’t forget entirely. Every once in a while you catch his eye and a blush runs up your neck, or your hands brush and you jolt back as if you’d been hit by a Shocking Grasp– but he seems no different and life continues.

You even manage to give him a bit of blood, by the wrist again, after insisting you’re well enough. He only drinks a bit and complains the entire time that you’re too weak for it. So when you’re left a little woozy and lightheaded, you try your best to pretend otherwise. In the end, the two of you spend the day rather leisurely, reading and chatting, acting as if nothing transpired between you at all.

Maybe, just maybe, everything wasn’t ruined. Maybe you could move on with the remainder of your time here, then figure out what to do going forward.

Your heart hurts and you know that you haven’t put all of your issues to rest, but the peace is welcome so you embrace it.

That night you send Dal a message using a Sending spell, “Hi Dal, it’s me. It’s time we talked. Can you come over while Astarion is in his reverie?”

Her response is succinct, “Yes, I’ll stay up. Let me know when, and I shall head over.”

It’s technically your twentieth day in the house when Dal quietly slips through the illusory wall, tiptoes past Astarion, and makes her way to you.

You wait for her, holding your breath the entire time, lest Astarion wake up in a fury. You’d hoped that he would eventually be more amenable to your meeting with Dal, but after learning more about your previous death, you suspect that that may not be the case.

Dal meets you in the hallway, and you head to your room together. Once inside, you both exhale the breaths you had been holding.

“Thank you so much for meeting me, Dal,” you say, leading her to sit on the couch before the hearth. “And thank you for tending to my wounds after that fight.”

She shakes her head at you and takes a seat. “No, thank you. I knew you would help us, regardless of whatever Astarion said. I’m just sorry you got hurt at all.”

You smile at her in response, glad that she understands how much you care. “Think nothing of it. I’m only sorry I didn’t prepare more appropriately for the situation. But I suppose we can blame Astarion for that.”

You both chuckle at the man’s expense, understanding his stubborn, rash nature easily. It’s almost as if you’re laughing with an old friend. Perhaps you were old friends, seeing as your previous life’s relationship with her is why you asked her to meet you.

She looks at you with a warm smile, and you suspect she probably feels similarly. I guess she was something of a sister-in-law, wasn’t she? you think. You dare not say it aloud though.

“So,” you begin, folding your hands together in your lap. “From what I understand, you worked with my past-self on… something. I’ll confess, I don’t have any details. But I want to help the colony as much as I did in my past-life, could you shed some light on what we were working on?”

“I’m happy to help,” Dal says. “Though I’m not entirely sure where to start.”

“Maybe with my death?” you hazard. “Astarion was… evasive.”

“He spoke of it?” she says, surprise coloring both her tone and expression.

You nod. “He gave me a few details, but he wasn’t very clear at moments. I could tell he was avoiding something.”

Dal looks down sadly, her lips pressed together in a worried line. “It makes sense. Astarion blames himself for your death, as you may have guessed.” She wrings her hands together for a moment before continuing “For separating from you, for letting you take on the burden that he feels should have been his.”

“But why should it have been his?” you ask, pleadingly. “I know I loved you all. And beyond that, I could tell, it was somehow for him as well.”

“He never saw it that way,” she says, shaking her head. “Regardless, I’m glad he spoke to you of it, even if he wasn’t the most forthcoming.”

You thought as much when he spoke to you, that it was likely the first time in over a hundred years he’d uttered those words. It was a privilege you wouldn’t take lightly, and, despite what he may believe, why you needed to talk to Dal. “So, let’s start at the beginning then. What was my mission with Astarion?”

“Right,” Dal says, looking up at you with determination. She’s certainly sad, she must have loved you dearly, but unlike Astarion, she also seems to have overcome her grief. Her words come out factual, practical. “You were on a mission to an ancient wizard’s tower to find a means to make some sort of enhanced sunlight rings– ones specifically for vampires– that would be able to quell our thirst for blood.”

“That… exists?”

“Truth be told, we weren’t sure,” she says, furrowing her brows somewhat apologetically. “It was all but a myth. However with 7000 spawn to feed and a giant target on our backs as a result, we were open to finding anything.”

Gods, that would… that would have solved so many problems. Not only would the spawn not have to worry about their ever-present hunger, but they might not even have been seen as a threat anymore. They could have even lived normal lives in the city, not hiding in the Underdark for survival.

But it all sounds too good, the spawn aren’t running about the city, and Dal's use of past tense doesn't bode well to you. “Was it a myth after all of that?”

“Well, the wizard turned out to be a necromancer." Ah, one of the bad ones, you can't help but think. "One who was obsessed with undead, vampires included. He’d clearly done a lot of research on vampirism and we were able to find some of his notes and journals on your… erm, body.” You can tell she’s uncomfortable speaking of you as if you’re dead, but she also can’t seem to separate you from your past self.

“Oh, that’s great then. Isn’t it?” you say, head perking up as you sense a puzzle just waiting for you to solve it. “Have you reached an impasse on figuring out his notes? I could help–”

She interrupts you before you can get too far. “It seems that his research, his secret formula or what have you– it was all useless, hocus pocus from a demented wizard. Sorry, no offense.”

“None taken.” I think. “Could they have been in code or something like that?”

"We took the notes to Gale once and he didn't see any rhyme or reason to them. Just another part of why Astarion was so mad. It felt like you sacrificed yourself for nothing."

The words sit between you for a moment. Had they sacrificed themself for nothing? They still had believed in their mission, even in their dying moments. You're sure of it.

You break the silence between you, “So… when you met me down in the cells, why did you want my help?”

“Because that can't have been it. I refuse to believe that that's how it ends," she says, with a fervor you hadn't expected from her. "Myself and the rest of my siblings, we’re still hopeful. We can’t keep living like this forever– you’ve seen the situation. We can’t hunt or we’ll risk exposing ourselves. We can’t defend ourselves without making ourselves out to be an even bigger threat. We’ve been surviving for the past several centuries. We would like to live.”

You nod vehemently, recalling the hunger you saw, the very conflict you were in just a few days ago. “I understand. What can I do to help then?”

“Well, maybe it's too hopeful, but I always thought there might be something in here. Right?” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a massive stack of papers, notebooks, journals, diagrams. "Maybe you left us something. Something that would help us figure it out, or set us on our next steps. You knew more than any of us by the end of your life. We couldn’t piece it all together, but if you have the memories… maybe you can.”

The stack grows as Dal continues to add papers atop it, and your nerves tingle with excitement. “What is all of this?”

“It’s your old research. Every note you took, every time you tried to design a ring or an alternative solution for us. I made sure Astarion couldn’t burn it or bury it.” She smiles at you proudly, and you're certain your mouth is agape.

You’re baffled. This was practically your life's work– such a big part of your life that is just completely missing from your memories. “How is it that I never learned about this in my reveries?"

"Perhaps you didn’t understand it. We spoke in code, wrote in code. The risk of being associated with a dark myth about vampirism was only liable to get the colony caught. As a result, only a handful of us were involved.” She ponders for a second. "Really just my siblings, yourself, and Gale."

You take the papers and start to sift through them, unable to read much of anything. Still, you know the enormity of this gift, can feel a thrill run up your spine at the sight of familiar handwriting. “This is amazing,” you say. "But how am I to read it all?"

The woman hands you a slip of blank paper. "This is a cipher. You can activate it using a light source. Memorize it, then burn it once you're done."

Turning the blank paper in your hand, you want more than anything to light it now, start to work, but you carefully tuck it in your bag for use later. "Thank you," you say with a slight bow to your head. “I don't know what I might uncover that you haven't already, but I'll try my best with the time I have left here…" You try not to think of your dwindling window of opportunity and instead focus on the task at hand.

This is a chance. A way to help those in need and, as much as Astarion has resisted, help him as well. He may not be starving like some of the spawn, he may have a life of relative ease, but you've seen the hunger in his eyes, the way that his tongue runs over his fangs absentmindedly. If this is something you can do for him, you would stop at nothing to do it.

You're in the midst of flipping through parchment when Dal pulls you back to the present, "We've continued our research, of course. Leon and I have searched for anything: something that could help blood be more filling, something that could store or duplicate blood. It's been fruitless."

You nod, familiar with how difficult blood magic could be, an area of necromancy that could lead to dark places if not handled with care. You try not to think of the types of things that could have gone wrong with that research and instead focus on what you can do going forward. "I don't blame you all, anything is worth a shot," you say. "Anything you could share might be helpful. And… I know you said they were worthless, but do you have the demented necromancer’s notes in here too?”

She seems hesitant, but still reaches down and pulls out another set of notes from her bag. They look horrendous, drenched in blood that could very well be yours, and nothing but a light scrawl on razor thin parchment. From a glance, you suspect it may not be made of paper. “This is all that we found on you.”

“Wow," you say, taking the notes gingerly from her. "These are…"

"Yes, they're… something," she finishes with a grimace.

You place them carefully on your stack, not sure how you'll be able to read them through the blood stains, but you'll figure it out. "Thank you, Dal," you say, truly grateful to have answers, to have a piece of the puzzle finally fall into place.

It seems like you're set– everything Dal has bestowed upon you sits waiting for your curious eyes, and she seems pleased to have delivered the cache. The woman begins to stand up, prepared to leave you to it, when a thought strikes her.

“One more thing…" she begins, a bit cautiously. "You should consider, erm, ‘obtaining’ Rhapsody.”

You recall Astarion’s begrudging safekeeping of it, and you wonder if Dal might be part of that. “Um, I'm happy to try, but why?”

“We didn’t get much from the notes, but we did gather that the necromancer thought that the blood from a vampire lord was important. It might be worth having," she explains.

You blink at her, confused. “Not to diminish your request, Dal. But the blade isn’t exactly blood."

Dalyria gives you a slight chuckle, shaking her head. "Gods, sometimes I forget you aren't them," she says. You're not certain how that makes you feel, but your heart does ache a bit at the words. “Scarlet Remittance, the dagger’s ability, absorbs life essence. The last person who the blade killed was Cazador Szarr.”

“I see," you say, thinking about the dream you'd witnessed for the second time today, vividly imagining when Rhapsody drove through the bastard's chest. If Astarion's act of vengeance had any role in solving the spawn's situation, you would steal the blade one way or another.

She turns to leave again, when a thought strikes you this time. You get up in a rush to pick up the item you'd borrowed from her during the defense of the colony.

“Don’t forget this!” you say, holding out the Sending Stone. You suspect that she needs it far more than you do.

She takes it gratefully, nodding at you. “Thank the gods, I'm glad I don't have to take another trip up that ladder for this!"

Then you watch her go, quietly pondering all that you’ve learned today.

You remember your own years of research, about past lives that linger after a great regret. This is it, you think, staring at the stack before you. They left this unfinished and it's up to you to complete it. Or at the very least figure out what they left behind and set the spawn on a path forward. The problem is, you haven't the faintest where to start.

I suppose I should start with the cipher, you think with a loud yawn. Though maybe I should wait until I'm less exhausted to learn it…

So you hide all of the paperwork in your Bag of Holding and head to bed, hoping to rest at least a bit before Astarion arrives to wake you up.

As you lay in bed and try to trance, you think about your past self. They had given every bit of themselves to trying to improve the spawn's situation, to their very last. You understand Astarion’s anger at them a bit better now, but that doesn’t stop the righteous fury in your heart. I need to help the spawn. They don’t deserve the kind of life that Cazador burdened them with. I won’t let them spend another lifetime in the darkness.

You only wish that your past self had shared more useful memories, like what to do with the recipe or any further leads. But you think you understand your dreams a bit better now. They needed to guide you to Astarion, to care for him as much as they did, to want to finish their goal as badly as they did or all of that information wouldn't matter. Well you’re here now. And gods do you care.

As your reverie takes you that night, you don’t dream of the Hero’s LIfe, much to your disappointment. You’re back in the forge, hammering away on an anvil, muscles aching and temperament steady. It would likely also help you for the days ahead.

When you actually awaken for your twentieth day in the house, you’re still tired.

Astarion knocks on the door at your usual hour, and your shortened reverie leaves you sluggish and gaunt.

"Did I drink too much from you yesterday?" the vampire asks, giving you a once over.

"No, I just couldn't get much sleep," you respond, trudging after him to the kitchen.

"Well, I'm going to need you to liven up a bit, we have work to do today," he says, holding open the door to the kitchen.

"Work?" You set about preparing your breakfast, trying to ignore how much your eyes burn.

"Yes, darling. Someone, I won't name names, has destroyed a substantial portion of the keep," he looks at you pointedly and you try to dodge his gaze. "Now that you've had your rest, we need to pivot our expansion plans to be repair plans."

You nod, thinking of all of the other work you'd rather be doing. Work which Astarion likely shouldn't find out about. "Very well, I'll pull myself together. I just need some breakfast."

That's how, as much as the Bag of Holding burns at your side with the secrets it holds, you spend your day alongside Astarion.

The two of you continue with the same rapport you had yesterday, as you continue to try to ignore the thrills his touch sends up your spine. Despite your best efforts, you still find yourself flinching or jolting upward when his hand grazes yours. You would chalk it up to exhaustion, but it may just be your imagination working a bit too well with all of the new, salacious thoughts of Astarion you have at your disposal.

Astarion would have to be blind to miss your reactions to him. And, not one to miss out on an opportunity to tease, takes every opportunity to brush against you on ‘accident.’ Gods you wish you could go back to before his hands had touched every inch of your body.

All the same, the day is nice– normal even, for the two of you. His teasing keeps you awake despite your lack of sleep, and by the end of it, his hands begin to linger. If you didn’t know any better, you might think that he… likes touching you.

But you’ve already messed up enough this week, so you ignore the sensation and focus on your work.

You finish your work too late and too tired to begin studying the cipher just yet. You vow to wake up early tomorrow morning to memorize it.

At the start of your twenty-first day in Astarion's house, you wake with a jolt when you hear a pounding at your door.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you sit up and call, "Astarion?"

"We need to talk. Now," he says through the door. His words come clipped.

What's gone wrong?! You think in a panic, scrambling out of bed and running to the door. Could the spawn be under attack again?

You're disheveled and breathing in huffs when you make it to the door, fear already coursing through your body. However, when you open the door Astarion doesn't look worried, he looks mad.

"Astarion?" you ask again, confused as you try to understand what's happening. Something about the way he is looking at you has you taking a step back into the room, putting space between you.

"I received a message from Dal this morning," he says, placing a hand on the doorframe and staring you down.

Did something happen with the spawn? No, why does he look upset at… me? You're not sure what could have occurred, so you ask anyway, "Is something the matter?"

"DON'T," he starts, voice raising. He catches himself, continuing in the same tight voice once more, "Don't you dare play the fool with me. You had her Sending Stone last, I saw it when I was here the other day."

Oh gods , you think, realizing the implication of his words, the connection he's clearly already made. How could I have not considered that he would have noticed the stone? It had been right there.

When you don't respond immediately, Astarion lowers his voice, a deep, unsettling calm in his tone. “You spoke with Dal then?”

“... yes," you say, looking at him head on. You won't hide from it, and who knows? Perhaps, after all of this, Astarion will understand. You just need to be honest with him, get past the initial shock.

“I suppose it wasn’t a pleasant little chat about the weather," his words are biting, forced through teeth that are all but bared at you. "What in the hells did you speak to Dal for?”

The anger building in his voice is chilling, beyond just shock. Maybe you shouldn't have been so honest…

“Cat's got your tongue?" He releases the doorframe, leaning into the room further, but never stepping in. "Or was it about the same, silly. Little. Project that your soul can't seem to let lie?"

He punctuates each word with daggers, and you're nearly positive that there isn't any understanding to be gained here. If only you could get through to him.

Your words come out hurried, a flurry of anything you can think of to calm the situation. “Astarion, please listen. I promise that I'm not doing anything dangerous. And I understand the situation better now–”

“What did I tell you?” His voice is deadly as he cuts you off like a sharpened blade.

“You said I shouldn’t get up to anything with the spawn,” you repeat, before diving into your next slew of words. “But I thought that maybe– after we talked about it–”

“No!" he yells, taking a step toward you now. You can’t help the step you take back in response. "I told you because I wanted to be honest. I didn't want you to make the same mistakes as they did!”

“It's not a mistake," you start, pleading with him. "Not if it means that the spawn can–”

“ENOUGH!” he snaps. Even when he got mad at you for staying here or when he got mad at you in the Underdark, he’d never raised his voice like this. It was like a tidal wave had just crashed over you, leaving you soaked, pathetic, and small in its wake.

You freeze.

“I warned you.”

You can't speak, a lump catches in your throat as you try to take a breath.

“I gave you explicit boundaries and you crossed them.”

You wish you could say something, but there's nothing to argue with there.

"I held back my anger when you ignored me, followed me into danger. But this? This is too much."

"Astarion," you whisper, finding a small fraction of your voice. He's right, you've been defying his every wish since you set foot in his house. You’ve been nothing but a burden.

“I don't want anything more to do with you,” he growls, baring his teeth. “I should have known better.”

Your heart drops to the very pit of your stomach. This can't be it. Please don't let this be the end. “Please Astarion, let me explain.”

“No. This was a mistake,” he spits out. “Maybe you've always been a mistake, in your past-life and now. I was just too much of a love-struck fool to see it last time. I refuse to be made that fool again.”

“Astarion…” you whisper, swallowing past the tightness in your throat. “They loved you so much. I–"

“What? Do you 'love' me?” Astarion asks, sneering at you with all of the contempt of centuries of pain. “No. You're just like them– as soon as another pitiful little case comes along you leave, off to greener, more pathetic pastures . What good is your help? Your love? It’s worthless when you’re nothing better than an idealistic hero.”

You thought the sharp stab of his rejection was painful, but the pain of his hatred is on another level entirely. You feel like you’re suffocating, trapped in a device of your own making. Because you can’t help who you are, what soul you now feel saddled with, any more than he can change you.

Perhaps he’s right, this was wrong in every single lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” is all that you manage in the face of the complete and utter desolation that is his rancor.

“It’s too late for apologies,” he says, tone icy. “I’m done.”

With that, Astarion turns away from you. You want to call out, reach for him, pull him into your arms. But it would be a mistake, just as you've been, as your time together has been, as your feelings have been.

It’s all you can do to watch him walk away, tugging at the painful chain wrapped around your heart with every single step.

The room begins to blur, and tears begin running down your face before you're ready for them. They pool in your eyes, stain your cheeks, run down your neck. You don't bother wiping them, because another torrent will simply replace them.

You drop to the floor in sheer defeat. What am I to do now?

Sobs shake your body, and you weep silently for some time before it all catches up to you. Your hands claw at the damnably familiar rug. You’re upset of course, but, gods, are you also angry. Why won’t he listen? Why does he refuse to try anymore? And why does he refuse to understand that this was all for him?

Because he didn’t ask for this help, your mind answers. Because he was happy, and you shattered that happiness. In your past-life and in your current one.

The thought only brings the tears down faster and you’re left a sodden mess. You cry until you don’t think you have any tears left to cry– it feels as though you’ve been wrung out and laid out to dry like an old rag.

You don't see or hear Astarion for the rest of the day, but you also don't venture out of your room. Like the despondent, broken hearted ghost you are, you spend the rest of the day laying on the couch, the floor, the bed– haunting each in a cycle of sheer misery.

You're dead on your feet when you lay down for an early reverie, but you still feel the need to document the week in your journal before you meditate. It's difficult to put your emotions into writing without starting the tears again, and the entry turns out rather pathetic compared to your two previous entries:

A lot happened this week. I think I love Astarion. I also don't think it matters anymore. I've ruined everything. He hates me now and yet somehow I wouldn't change a thing. I can’t leave these spawn to centuries more of pain and hunger. What am I even supposed to do?

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you

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aralezinspace · 1 year

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hi :) can i request a Morpheus x reader where reader is having a really bad nightmare, she's completely terrified, until she calls for Morpheus, who sends the nightmare away. He's worried about her, he feels guilty for letting that nightmare hurt her, he thinks she's angry at him for not protecting her right away. On the contrary, reader runs right in his arms, thanking him. Morpheus is surprised by her reaction but she reassures him, telling him "it's fine. you're here now.” Thank you <3

Wolf

A/N: this popped out of my head fully formed like Athena did to Zeus and I shall probably never have such writing clarity again xD also partially based on a nightmare of my own from a few weeks ago. Enjoy! tagging @fangirlmary

WARNING: implied/referenced past verbal abuse

~~Requests for Morpheus and the Doctor (9-13) are open~~

The darkness didn’t frighten you, but what lurked in the inky blackness most certainly did. You knew that voice; it had haunted your daily life for over a year, but it was distorted by the realm where dreams and memories collided. The words were warped and growled, slithering across your skin.

You shuddered- this was definitely a nightmare, but too much time had passed for him to cow you so easily. Even still, the familiar knot of choking anxiety and helplessness curled in your stomach, the foggy dream-panic clouding your mind. The blackness surrounded you on all sides, there was nowhere to escape: your only choice was to weather the storm.

After what seemed like hours, the blackness faded to the dark gray of thunderclouds. There were clear barriers now, defined by what looked like decrepit cement walls. The temperature had dropped, the air cold and wet on your skin. Gooseflesh pebbled your arms, and the distorted voice of your tormentor laughed in condescending triumph. Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

His words were muffled, warped, unintelligible, but their meaning was clear: it was every hurtful word he had ever said, every backhanded compliment, every seemingly innocent conversation you had to navigate by tone and body language to avoid the pitfalls. You shuddered again, tears of pure panic dripping from your eyes, Your hands covered your ears, you turned away from that voice, but there was no relief.

Footsteps now, but not his. They were too light, and there were too many. Soft and padding, with the soft click of claws on concrete. Cautiously, you uncovered your ears and peeked over your shoulder.

A massive white wolf was stalking towards you on eight legs, standing as tall as a semi. Its fur was wild and untamed, greasy and matted with dirt. A dark liquid that looked suspiciously like blood dripped from its sharp teeth as the mouth contorted around the words it spoke. Green flames the size of street lights burned in its eye sockets.

You cowered away, taking cautious steps back as the beast advanced, stalking slowly with the confidence of a predator who knew their prey had nowhere to run. There was no wall to put your back to, nowhere to hide. Your breath came in short pants, the blood rushing in your ears like the ocean almost drowned out the words of your tormentor that were spat from the creature’s jaws.

You tripped and stumbled backwards, landing hard on your back, staring up at gray nothingness. In that moment, the beast had covered the scant distance that separated you without a single sound, and now hovered menacingly over you. A massive paw placed itself over your entire body, refusing to budge no matter how you struggled. Choked whimpers and pleas for mercy pushed their way past your lips.

The beast said nothing more, instead it began to apply pressure to your body, pressing down, crushing you beneath its foot like an insect. Your cries and struggles became more desperate as it pushed harder. The ground was soft at your back, yet unyielding, as if you were being pushed into a mattress.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream as it continued to push you down, down- your chest was tight with agony, you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe-

“Enough. You go too far.”

The weight on your chest immediately vanished with a rush of wind, the pain fading as you took deep, gasping breaths. You sat up, and to your great surprise, the giant dog was bowing its head to you. Or rather, the figure behind you.

He appeared to be a man, pale and dressed in black, towering regally over you and staring down the dog, who looked decidedly nervous. The hands that were almost at your eye level were wrapped into loose but tense fists. You knew him the same way a barista knew their regulars- bumping into each other with noticeable frequency, more than acquaintances but not quite friends, almost intimately familiar without knowing much about the other besides names.

“Dream-“ you gasped softly from the floor. His eyes quickly flitted down, making sure you were unharmed before once again focusing on the dog. He swept by you as he spoke, the end of his long coat brushing softly over your arm.

“My lord,” the creature rasped, “What an unexpected surprise-“ Morpheus held p a hand, immediately halting its speech.

“Be still. You have overstepped your bounds, Skylos." His voice carried through the grayness, soft and commanding with the slightest edge of anger. "Your purpose as a nightmare has never been to cause dreamers physical pain, only to create a space for them to face their fears.” The creature, Skylos, bowed even lower, looking somewhat ashamed. Dream stepped closer until he was near enough to touch its blood-stained maw if he so desired.

“You are new to this role, and still have much to learn. For that, I am willing to show leniency. But, should you commit such a transgression again, there will be consequences. Am I understood?” Skylos carefully met the Dream Lord’s gaze.

“Yes, my lord,” it growled. “I will take this lesson to heart. Thank you.” Dream nodded once.

“Then go, there are dreamers for you still to visit.” It bowed again and left, vanishing into the gray.

After a breath, Dream turned to face you. You were still laying on the floor, supporting yourself on your elbows. Your breaths were still shaky, but no longer burned your chest. “Are you alright?” he asked in a voice that was deep and comforting as the night, the anger having softened. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, as you moved to stand.

Dream offered you his hand. Carefully, you placed your hand in his, the coldness of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. With easy and unnatural strength, he pulled you to your feet, making sure you were steady before letting go. Tears burned your eyes again; your brows furrowed and your entire face scrunched up.

“Y/N, forgive me for not coming sooner.” His dark eyes were downcast, his entire being seeming to slump. His voice was even lower, a broken, choked growl. “Skylos was created only a short while ago, I should have kept a closer watch on him.”

You sniffled once and Morpheus tensed, as if bracing himself for a scolding. He was not ready for you to collapse into him, holding on as if he were your only lifeline. His coat and shirt were soft and warm against your cheek, and absorbed the few tears that leaked out of your eyes. “It’s okay,” you choked, “You’re here now.”

Seeing that you weren’t about to let go, Morpheus awkwardly returned your embrace, holding you closer to his chest. You stayed there for a few minutes, just breathing in everything that was Dream. You pulled away once you had regained your composure and swiped at your eyes. “Thanks for saving my sorry ass,” you choked with a laugh.

Dream’s lips twitched in a flash of a smile as he gently brushed a thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear. He murmured, “You are welcome.” Without turning away from you, he waved his hand behind him. Immediately bending to his will, the gray nothingness changed to a bright forest, complete with birds singing, sun shining through emerald-leafed trees, and a pond of crystal clear water.

You let out a breath, finally completely relaxed. “I have other duties to attend...” he said as he lowered his hand. You casually waved him off with a genuine smile. “Don’t let me keep you, your majesty, I’ll be fine. See you around!”

Morpheus returned your smile as you turned to explore your new dream. “Goodnight, dear dreamer.”

#The Sandman #The Sandman fanfic #morpheus x reader #Morpheus fanfic #my stuff

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nine-of-words · 4 months

Text

Out in the Cold (Part One)

M Orc x M Troll (Hulder) Reader

STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 3087

Content Warnings: Hypothermia (Sort of)

I started writing this story last winter, and I’m so excited to finally start posting it here! These two have become one of my favorite pairs I’ve written ever, so hopefully they grow on some of you, as well.

You've been running for hours, now.

The cold winter air stings your lungs with each heavy breath you take. Your feet ache in your boots as you run.

It's begun to snow.

The sight fills you with a pleasant feeling despite your current situation, and you subconsciously slow your pace to appreciate the fat clumps of snow falling around you.

Just a few flurries at the moment. But there's a heavy snowstorm coming, and you have somewhere to be before it gets here.

So, despite your fatigued body crying out for a break, you keep running. You don't have the luxury for rest at the moment - keeping whatever scrap of headstart you have is too important. You've got to put as much distance between you and them as possible, while you still have the stores of energy.

It’s been so long since you had to do any real running that you’re not used to the physical demand anymore. You’ve gotten soft from your new, relatively cushy life- like the bushy bit on the end of your tail.

You push on through your physical discomfort, darting through the underbrush as quickly as you can manage.

Are they trailing you yet? Orcs are naturally predisposed to be excellent at tracking prey, so once the hunting party catches on to your trail, your task of eluding them is going to be made that much harder. It’ll be a question of when you get caught at that point, rather than if.

Given the amount of creeping sunlight breaking over the tree-laden horizon, early risers should be waking up for the day already. One very specific early riser is sure to notice your absence… Someone who would be giving you a lecture about pacing yourself if he was present.

You sigh, the gust of breath forming a warm cloud of steam in front of you.

Pushing yourself too hard never ends up well. Maybe it's time you start taking that lesson to heart instead of being so stubborn. You always end up making a mess of things when you're exhausted. Or when you're not...

…You have enough time for a break, you decide. A short one. Just long enough to drink from your canteen and wolf down some of the jerky and dried fruit you had remembered to pack.

You sit on an appropriately flat and dry rock, absentmindedly checking your compass when your mind wanders to the last time you had to travel such a distance, nearly a year ago. It was snowing then, too…

LAST WINTER

Utterly lost, you collapse from exhaustion in the middle of the quiet, desolate, snow-covered forest.

Somehow you made it through the snowstorm itself, but now trudging through the several inches of it covering the ground has consumed the last of your energy.

Your head feels funny.

How long have you been laying like this? Time starts to bleed.

The cold seeps into your bones, and a gentle layer of powder accumulates over you.

"Huh. Weird shaped rock." Someone mumbles in one of your moments of clarity, in what could either be moments or days later, for all you know.

You feel the tip of a heavy boot impact with your side. It's more of a nudging tap than a true strike, but they might as well have stomped you with how much everything hurts at the moment. You recoil with some of your last remaining strength.

"Oh shit! Not a rock!! It m-moved!!" The voice all but shrieks. "Lurog! C'mere!"

"What are you carrying on about?" An unamused voice accompanies the crunch of a second pair of boots in the snow.

You feel a wooden rod, likely the blunt end of a spear, prod between your shoulder blades.

"Dead."

"S'not dead! I just saw it move!"

"Dead." She repeats the prodding for effect.

"Stop! You're gonna hurt it!"

The two voices discuss how to handle the corpse/rock in front of them, until you hear the crunch of a third set of heavy footfalls approach.

"What is the problem here?" The third deep voice chimes in, and the other two voices immediately go silent in deference. "Your squabbling is scaring away the game."

"Boss! I think this rock is alive!"

There is a short beat of silence, followed by the female voice failing to hold in snorting laughter.

"I mean- Urgh-"

"Enough. I understand."

You feel a presence hover over you, and a firm, gloved hand takes you by the elbow. The world spins as you're rolled onto your back, all of your limbs on deadweight and your hazy eyes struggling to focus.

Warm, calloused fingertips touch the side of your cold neck. You want to flinch away, but you don't have it in you.

He holds them there for a few moments - checking for your pulse, you realize.

"They dead?"

"Not yet."

You wouldn't truly die from the cold, anyway. Thanks to your troll biology, it's impossible for you to freeze to death. But you would be in stasis until someone found you and warmed you up, a rude awakening when you realize how much time would have passed- a diversion you can't really afford at the moment.

A hand brushes your bangs from your face, but your vision is nothing but ethereal shapes.

There are two fuzzy figures to either side in different shades of green - one a mossy tone and the other more of a pine - and a slightly larger blue one against the sea of blurred white and coniferous grey-green.

“I-It looks weird. I’ve never seen one like it before.”

“‘It’ can probably hear you, you idiot.”

Even without being able to see them clearly, though, the coloration and the names would suggest that these are orcs. Part of the group you’re looking for, ironically? You struggle to focus your eyes, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to clear the ice from your lashes.

"Huh, Urguk was right. Miracles do happen." She laughs.

“Heeey…”

"You gonna put 'em out of their misery, Boss?"

Damn.

You barely manage to have a more coherent thought than that, fear settling in that these brutes are going to kill you before you even get a chance to attempt the job you came here to do, but your limp, freezing body is unable to act, even to preserve your own life.

"...No.” He says after a moment of deliberation, assuaging your fear slightly. “Troll. Nothing that Shaman can’t fix if we warm them up soon."

He grunts and the looming presence and warmth of his hand is gone, the shape becoming distant as he assumingly stands back upright.

"Urguk. Run back ahead of us and tell Shaman to get prepared." He orders in an even, authoritative tone.

After an affirmative noise, footfalls crunch away at a sprint, without so much as a question.

"Lurog, you help me wrap them up to carry."

“Sure thing.” Despite their tired affect from before, again the hazy figure agrees with no argument. Willing, even.

There’s some shuffling and rustling of fabric, and soon you’re lifted from the snow covered ground like a soggy ragdoll. Your damp, snow laden cloak is removed and replaced with a dry, heavy fur-lined one that’s big enough to bundle you up completely from head to toe.

They support your weight under your knees, leaning your body against their shoulder. A small, feeble noise of relief escapes you as you slump against the warm, firm wall of muscle holding you up.

Once they’re sure you’re secure, whoever is carrying you begins to move. Their stride is steady, strong and almost hypnotic.

At some point in the journey, you must’ve fallen asleep to the rocking of their gait, because no time seems to pass before you wake up again in a warm bed, with the sight of wooden ceiling beams above you.

Before you can ponder the nature of your situation for very long, your finely tuned senses alert you to the presence of someone else nearby- the small sounds of rustling and a vaguely herbal scent filling the air.

You jolt upright, ready to react if the situation calls for it, then immediately regret it when the resulting wave of nausea hits you.

You slouch back down in defeat. But luckily, your keen eyesight has returned. You pupils constrict to take an appraisal of the other person occupying the dim, warmly lit room.

They’re a greying, slightly weathered orc of indeterminate gender. They seem to have a wiry build under the multiple layers of robe, fur and feathers. They also wear quite a bit of ornamental jewelry- all made out of natural materials, like glass beads and carved bones. The most noticeable are the two large, perfectly circular hoops braided into sections of their hair on either side, hanging at about chest level.

“Easy. You’re still recovering.” The orc says in a comforting tone, approaching with a small, wide cup made of lacquered wood. “But don’t worry. You’re in good hands. Hah!”

“Ah, and who might those hands belong to?” You say, as charmingly polite as you can muster through the dizziness.

“I’m Shaman of this tribe.” They say with a nod and a warm smile, light glinting off the metallic cap on one of their tusks. Then they hand you the cup, which you find to be filled with some sort of pungent green sludge. The wood is warm to the touch, and feels good on your hands. “Go ahead and sip that. It’ll help with the nausea.”

“Pleasure to meet you, er- I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name-?”

“That’s by design. Once you’re in my position, you’re simply ‘Shaman’. Not only a title, but a byname.”

“Fascinating!” You attempt to make a good show of sipping at the sludge in the cup, only to be interrupted by a coughing fit. “Ah- excuse me- So- Would that make you the decision maker around these parts?”

“You could say that, but in truth it’s a joint effort. So any decision of a certain weight would have to be considered by both me and my fellow leader.”

“That would be me.” A gruff, hazily familiar voice says from the doorway, which he literally needs to duck his head under to clear.

“So he is.” Shaman smiles.

“Um… Hi.” You grin sheepishly and introduce yourself.

“Torg. I am Chieftain here.”

He is a huge slab of a man. He has a broad chest and set of shoulders, with a good set of arms, and is clearly of towering height. The only thing on him that's small in proportion are the tusks jutting from his lower lip, and even those are only small in proportion.

Otherwise, his styling is plain and practical, from his choice in clothing to the length and keep of his beard. His hair is long, thick and dark, mostly pulled up into a pragmatic half-bun atop his head. Honestly, you wouldn’t even have paid any attention to his hair at all if not for your eye catching the glint of light bouncing off something shiny there. Large silver rings are woven into the few braided sections of his hair - what seems to be the only real ornamental items he wears. You astutely observe that they’re similar to the ones that the Shaman wears, save for the material.

And a facial expression that could sour milk. Yep, that’s an orc alright…

A blue orc.

Orcs with skintones outside of the ubiquitous greens, tans and ochres aren’t unheard of in some climates. You’ve even seen a crimson red one in the city before... But you’ve never seen a blue one. Trolls? Yes. But not an orc.

It makes your brain itch, but you’re not sure why. Maybe it'll come back to you later.

Big fish - literally big. Gotta make a good first impression.

You turn your charm switch on like the second nature it is, honeying your voice and smirking.

“Oho, I must be lucky indeed if I’m getting a welcome visit from the Big Boss himself.”

You barely finish your sentence before breaking into a forceful coughing fit- not exactly the smooth first impression you’re trying to make.

“You’re lucky you still have all your fingers and toes after your idea of an entrance.” Torg snorts indignantly, shaking his head. "If you weren't a Troll, they'd have fallen off. Assuming you hadn’t died first."

“Yeah… Not my most shining moment, admittedly.” You let out a sigh, finally catching your breath and your posture slumping a bit.

It takes a moment for the memory to slide into place, your mind swimming in blurred shapes of color and warmth returning to your body. But you’re sure this is one of the orcs that brought you in from the cold. You don’t think there’d be another massive blue orc running around, even this far north…

“You were one of the group that brought me here, then?”

Torg nods, but his grim, hardened facade doesn't so much as crack in the slightest.

“Thank you. It was quite cold out there.”

“You can thank the other two knuckleheads when you’re feeling better. They’re the ones that found you.”

“Well then, I’ll be sure to. Maybe I'll put together a gift basket.” You smile; Even if he doesn't seem to appreciate your humor, Shaman seems to.

“As I was saying- true to Orcish ways, Torg here and myself run the settlement together. He is the civil leader, while I am the tribe’s healer and spiritual advisor. We’ll be happy to help you get back on your way to whatever your destination was, but first we do have some questions.”

“For one- What were you doing so far from town, to be succumbing to the elements right outside of our gates?” There is a dubious tone in his voice, passively letting you know that your intentions are being well scrutinized. “There’s nothing this far out besides us, unless you’re hunting. And you don’t look like a hunter.”

“Oh. That’s because I was looking for this very settlement, in fact.”

“Why?” His eyes narrow in pointed suspicion, not having expected you to give that information so freely.

“I want to live here, of course! ...If that’s okay with you.”

“I see no issue, if that’s what you’d like.” Shaman remarks pleasantly.

“Absolutely not.” Torg grunts indignantly, the disparity of the sentiments giving you whiplash.

“Ah, you object, then?” Shaman questions.

“Yes, I object. This is suspicious.” He scowls, turning his discerning gaze to you. “You mean to tell me that you were so desperate enough to leave wherever you came from to start a new life here, that you would make a long, grueling journey? In such scant equipment?”

You resist the urge to gulp down your stress. You can’t be found out just like that, can you? You have no evidence of your trade on your person that could’ve been discovered while you were passed out…

Does the look of you simply scream thief, then?

"Er… Yes?" Great job. That sounds like-

"You're aware that sounds like a load of shit, right?"

“Maybe, but I… I don’t have anywhere else to go.” You say forlornly, averting your eyes. This may be something you planned to say to garner pity and hopefully ply entrance into their stronghold, but honestly… Hearing yourself say it out loud, it’s not that far off from the truth. “And I had heard that orcs take outcasts like that in...”

“Come now, Torg. You’re being more cautious than necessary, in my opinion.” Shaman lays their palm on his shoulder, though they have to reach upwards to do so, which makes the typical image of an elder giving counsel look a bit silly. Their various baubles clink together with the movement. “It’s been so long since we’ve had new blood join us. It may be good for the settlement. An omen, perhaps.”

“And you know better than anyone in the settlement that not all omens are good.” The large man grumbles back to them in response.

“He’s only one small troll-cat. What damage could he possibly cause?” Shaman gestures to your small size with their bangled hand. “And do remember that according to the New Ways, we have a responsibility to protect those that aren’t fortunate enough to be blessed with Orcish strength.”

His jaw clenches rhythmically as he stares down at you. He's clearly in roiling inner turmoil over whether you can be trusted. After a few moments of agony pass, he sighs heavily and shrugs. His hard expression relents a bit.

“Fine. If that’s really the case… You’re free to stay. But that means doing your fair share of work, like anyone else - when you are recovered, that is.”

“Excellent.” Shaman nods in approval.

“O-Of course!" You sit up straight and give him the most charming smile you can muster. "Thank you both so much. I promise I won’t let you down!”

“Hmph. We’ll see.” He shakes off your words and hastily gets to his feet, the wooden chair creaking slightly as he does. "Just don't make any more trouble."

"I'll try." You laugh with a nod, but are unable to hide the wry grin on your face. You try to restrain it- You’re supposed to look scared and helpless and pitiable, not balking at the idea of having to face any consequences.

"One more thing." Torg lingers in the doorway before departing. "If any of my people come to harm because of you- you will answer to me. Keep that in mind."

"I wouldn't dream of it." You try to restrain the smug grin that is trying to break across your face.

After Torg departs, you let out a huge breath of air that you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Thank you.” You say again to the Shaman. “You really saved me there. I thought he was going to turn me out in the snow for a moment.”

“Oh. Don’t mind him.” Shaman laughs. “He would have never- he’s all bark and little bite. Even pleasant, when you come to know him.”

“Hah, well, I’m sure I’ll enjoy getting to know everyone here!”

“Oho, there’s time for that later. For now, you need to rest and regain your strength.”

You nod, then lay back against the pillow behind you, lacing your fingers in your lap.

You’ve managed to get in, and that’s the hardest part down- now it’s time to move onto the next phase of your plan.

You’re already begun mentally penning the letter to your guildmaster at the thieves’ guild to inform him you’ve arrived.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x reader #orc x reader #orc #male reader #male monster #troll reader #mlm #mxm #male x male #oc: reyr #oc: torg #series: out in the cold #nine of words

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cami-stuffs · 5 months

Text

Pushing Towards You

Chapter 14: Family Thanksgiving

Tag: @pllduniverse

Calista woke up to the first light of the morning coming through Larissa's bedroom window. The sun had not yet risen, but the day was already brightening. Larissa was used to waking up early, so her windows didn't need curtains. But Calista preferred the dark to sleep, and the lights bothered her a little. She was lying on her side, facing Larissa. The position in which Larissa slept resembled the one in which the photo from the school reunion was taken, and Calista couldn't help but smile as she remembered that night.

Lying on her back, Calista saw the chains along the bed's canopy and the handcuffs at its ends. She wondered how long Larissa had planned this moment and the work done to prepare the room. The memories of the previous night were vivid and flashed through Calista's mind. Distracted, she didn't notice the moment Larissa woke up.

Larissa opened her eyes and saw Calista deep in thought. She remembered the few times she took a woman to spend the night in her room. She kept her love affairs from sleeping at Nevermore. Larissa was the school principal and did not want to be unprofessional, much less cause embarrassment to the academic staff and her guest. But Calista's presence there felt right to Larissa. Despite being discreet, they were in a serious relationship, and Larissa increasingly felt the need to wake up next to her loved one. To get Calista out of her thoughts without scaring her, Larissa sighed heavily and moved slightly in the bed, indicating that she was awake.

Calista turned and saw Larissa looking at her with a soft smile. "Good morning, Riss." She said, returning the smile.

"Good morning, my love." Larissa approached and kissed Calista's forehead. "What happened? You woke up before your alarm clock."

"The clarity," Calista responded by moving her eyes to the window.

"Ah, yes. I don't have curtains. Sorry about that." Larissa looked annoyed as she looked back toward the windows.

"No problem, it was almost time to wake up anyway." At that moment, Calista's alarm went off. After hanging up, Calista lay down facing Larissa, took her hand, and kissed it.

Larissa took Calista's hand and placed the palm on her cheek as a sign of affection. "How are you feeling today?"

"My body is sore." They laughed at that. "I'm exhausted but delighted." Calista smiled widely and blushed. "And you?"

"In love, amazed and relaxed. Exactly in that order." Larissa laughed, lying on her stomach and supporting herself on her elbows.

Calista giggled. "But not exhausted?"

"Honey, my job is exhausting. Fucking you all night is not. It's relaxing." Larissa smiled mischievously and winked at Calista.

"You naughty!" Calista cooed, leaning on Larissa's back. "I'm afraid it's time to go." She kissed Larissa's shoulders and caressed her back.

"Why don't you take a shower here?" Larissa suggested. "I'll drop you off at home so you can put on new clothes, and while you change, I'll get you some coffee at The Weathervane. What do you think?"

"I think it's a great idea." Calista smiled and rested her chin on Larissa's shoulder.

"And can I take a shower with you?" Larissa asked, pretending to be unpretentious.

"So this was part of a plan?" Calista narrowed her eyes.

"Well, I do care about your well-being." Larissa began. "But yeah, my idea was to spend more time with you, and maybe, if you want, we'll have some fun in the shower," Larissa confessed with puppy eyes.

Calista let out a muffled laugh. "Do you want me to call you mistress again?" She asked with feigned innocence.

"Not this time, darling. Now, I'm only your Riss." Larissa replied, smiling and gently poking the tip of Calista's nose.

"Then come on, my lovely Riss. Let's take a shower." Calista whispered. She kissed Larissa's shoulder again, stepped over her body to get off the bed, and extended her hand to Larissa.

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

Calista and Dr. Maina had not spoken since the night of the fundraiser. Calista was putting off talking to the doctor because she wanted to clarify the situation to Gaia first. With that question out of the way, she was eager to resume the conversation about the possible relationship between Larissa and Artemis. Before Calista could look for Dr. Maina, he sent her an email.

“Dear Dr. Cos'Anto,

I hope this email finds you doing well. First and foremost, I would like to apologize for not getting in touch with you earlier after our last conversation. I have been quite busy over the past few weeks.

I would like to reiterate my interest in investigating your daughter's ancestry. However, with the Thanksgiving holiday approaching, I understand how important this holiday is to Americans.

Therefore, I would like to schedule a meeting with you, your ex-wife, your partner, and your daughter on Monday after the holiday. It is of utmost importance that your daughter is present at the meeting. Despite being a minor under your and your ex-wife's responsibility, she is the crucial person interested in this matter.

I look forward to hearing back from you soon to confirm our meeting.

Sincerely,

Dr. Maina.”

Calista read and reread the part of the email where it said how significant Artemis' presence at this meeting was. The girl still didn't know about her relationship with Larissa, let alone that the two could be related—this turn of events anticipated Calista's plans to talk to her daughter.

Calista responded to the email to Dr Maina, confirming the presence of the four of them, including Artemis, at the meeting on the Monday after the holiday at 9:00 am - Calista took the liberty of choosing the best time since the doctor left it open. Then, she sent a message to Larissa and Gaia, calling for a conversation between them at her apartment that same day after work. She did not want to alert the two women, so she mentioned Dr Maina's email, leaving the request for Artemis' presence out of the messages.

Larissa and Gaia didn't suspect anything and confirmed their presence. Calista wanted to take advantage of the moment to propose that they all spend Thanksgiving together. Calista wished to spend it with Larissa and Artemis, but she didn't think it was fair and didn't want Gaia to spend the holiday alone. But, to do so, she needed to talk to her daughter and clarify the situation.

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

Calista opened the door to her apartment and was greeted by the image of Larissa and Gaia standing side by side in the doorway. The height difference between the two was evident. Gaia was the lowest of the three. If Calista hadn't been so anxious about the conversation they were going to have, she would have been amused by the contrast before her eyes.

The three looked at each other for a moment. It was their first meeting since Calista told Gaia about her relationship with Larissa and all the context involved. She didn't know how to act. But, as always, Gaia made the situation seem ridiculously trivial.

"You invited us to admire the hallway of your apartment? Because I really wanted to drink that beer, I left here the other day." Gaia glanced at Larissa with a comical look. "In case no one got there first and drank it all."

"Humpf... As if. I'd rather drink wine." Larissa responded by rolling her eyes and giving a slight smile. "But yes, a beer wouldn't go amiss." She looked at Calista and raised her eyebrow. The three remained standing in the doorway.

"There's enough beer for both of you," Calista said, leading the way and signaling them to enter.

Gaia entered first, smiling at Calista and placing a hand on her shoulder to greet her, disappearing into the kitchen. Now alone, Larissa opened her arms to welcome Calista. The two hugged each other as if they hadn't seen each other in a long time, even though they had woken up in bed together that same morning.

"I've been thinking about you all day," Larissa whispered to Calista.

"And I've been thinking about you." Calista melted, lifting her head to kiss Larissa.

They remained like that, in an embrace for a few seconds, until Gaia shouted from the kitchen.

"Are the two lovebirds going to stay at the door? Larissa's beer is going to be warm on the counter." Gaia was sitting on the kitchen stool when Calista and Larissa entered hand in hand. "By the way, can I call you Larissa?" She asked, handing the mug to Larissa.

"I don't see why you couldn't." Larissa accepted the mug of beer. "We're sharing a beer after work at your ex-wife's apartment, who's now my girlfriend. Yeah, I guess you can call me by my name." Larissa smiled.

"Cheers to that!" Gaia toasted with Larissa.

Meanwhile, Calista followed the casual conversation between the two. Larissa and Gaia were not friends when they were at school. They barely knew each other. Calista spent enough time around Gaia to know how friendly and resilient she was. But she didn't expect the same behavior from Larissa towards her ex-wife. This dynamic between the two took a weight off Calista's shoulders—one less thing to worry about.

The three women talked about their days and jobs for a few minutes. Calista left Gaia free to take charge of the kitchen and make snacks for them. She decided to open a bottle of wine since beer wasn't her thing. Although the conversation was light and fun, Calista still needed to address the subject of Artemis, which left her a little restless, unable to enjoy the moment. Larissa noticed this behavior.

"I could use some of that quality time sometimes," Larissa commented, exchanging looks with Gaia. "But I believe that's not why you brought us together here tonight, right?" She said, moving her gaze to Calista. "What happened? You seem a little tense. Was it Dr. Maina's email?"

"Did he say anything else you didn't tell us?" Gaia asked.

"The content of the email was generally about getting together after the holiday," Calista confirmed. "But he made a point of highlighting the importance of Artemis' presence. That's why I called you here. We need to talk to her."

"But we planned to tell her, right?" Gaia asked. "So, what's wrong with that?"

"The Thanksgiving day," Calista confessed. "I wanted us to celebrate the holiday, all of us together."

"Let me see if I understood. Your concern is that when you tell Artemis, it will make our holiday together impossible?" Larissa asked. "Is that your only concern?"

"And what else would it be?" Calista shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe her mother is in a relationship with the school principal. Or perhaps the fact that Artemis herself is related to that same principal." Larissa pointed out, finding it funny that Calista didn't consider any of this important.

"Well, it would damper our holiday anyway, right? If she didn't handle the news well." Calista said as if it were the most obvious of conclusions.

"I think you're both wrong," Gaia said, drawing Calista and Larissa's attention to herself. "Let's face it. Artemis adores Larissa." Gaia looked at Calista. "And no, I don't care about that. She's still my daughter. But the truth is that for some reason that we're yet to discover, she and Larissa have had a connection since the day they met."

Calista and Larissa remained silent. Then, Gaia continued.

"I look at Larissa and see what our daughter could become in a few years." Gaia looked from Larissa to Calista. "And, honestly, I think Artemis thinks the same. I don't believe she will react badly. There is a possibility that she will become even more clingy. She is curious. She will want to know everything. Get ready. Especially you, Larissa."

"I think I can handle it," Larissa said, smiling, imagining the possibility of strengthening her relationship with the girl. The two held weekly meetings about shapeshifting, but Artemis was restrained when addressing Larissa because she saw her headmaster there.

"Lista, Artemis never fit in anywhere." Gaia was speaking directly to Calista now. "As much as we tried, deep down, she was an outcast among the outcasts. And now she can feel like she's part of something."

"She's right, Lis," Larissa assured Calista. "I think Artemis will handle all of this well. But if she needs time, don't worry about the holiday; I'm used to spending it alone."

"No way! No one is going to spend Thanksgiving alone." Calista stated vehemently.

"That won't be necessary, Lista. Everything will be fine." Gaia said. "We can talk to her next weekend. What do you think? Family lunch. The four of us."

"Four? No." Larissa shook her head. "I think this subject is very delicate. You two should talk to her. She needs to feel free to express all her feelings. I don't think she would do that if I were with you."

"Are you sure about this, Riss?" Calista asked.

"Absolutely, my dear." Larissa smiled.

"The weekend then, Gaia," Calista confirmed with Gaia.

"Great! I'm curious how long it will take her to ask about the shapeshifted penis." Gaia wondered, sipping her beer.

Upon hearing this, Larissa choked on her beer, and Calista opened her eyes wide and screamed Gaia's name.

"What?" Gaia shrugged. "Do you think she won't ask? If I'm curious to know, imagine her." Calista and Larissa exchanged looks. "Lucky for you, I didn't ask to see it!" Gaia teased. Larissa blushed when she heard this, and Calista rolled her eyes. "Do you know how to cook, Larissa? Or rather, do you like cooking?" Gaia changed the subject.

"I know and like to cook. Why do you ask?" Larissa still had red cheeks, but the subject change made her more comfortable.

"Because we're going to cook for Thanksgiving," Gaia answered. "Calista hates cooking, and if she has two people who can do it for her, she will definitely enjoy it!"

"You can be sure of it!" Calista said, making the other two laugh.

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

Artemis was happy to have lunch with her mothers. Since moving to Jericho, these family moments have become scarcer. In part because, for the first time, Artemis had her group of friends with whom she spent her free time. Still, she missed the home atmosphere, eating with her mothers and spending the afternoon chatting on the couch. On Saturday, Artemis made Gaia leave Nevermore right after breakfast. She wanted to enjoy the day and help with lunch.

Calista was only expecting the two of them for lunch, so she was caught by surprise and in her pajamas when they arrived at her apartment. She prepared breakfast for the three of them, ignoring that Gaia and Artemis had already eaten. Calista wasn't going to eat alone, being watched by the other two.

It was as if they still lived in North Carolina. The three spent the morning talking about the week of study and work. For the first time, Artemis dominated the conversation. She had much to say about her friends, classes, and favorite places in Nevermore. Now and then, she would mention Larissa, causing Calista and Gaia to exchange glances.

Gaia and Artemis cooked lunch while a comfortable Calista busied herself with smaller tasks. Calista observed the interaction of the other two and fondly remembered the time when the three lived together. Meals were the family's most important moments. Even after the divorce, Gaia continued to frequent Calista's house; moving to Jericho was the turning point for them to start cutting that bond. So, having that moment again warmed Calista's heart, and she wanted to experience the same thing with Larissa.

"So, what do you guys want to tell me?" Artemis asked casually between bites.

"What do you mean?" Calista was startled by the question.

"Mumma C, do you know why you always lose at card or board games?" Artemis asked.

"Because they're boring?" Calista shrugged.

"No, because you don't know how to pretend," Artemis said. "You don't have a poker face, Mom. You want to tell me something. I noticed it as soon as I arrived. And since Mumma G is present, I bet one of you will tell me she's seeing someone."

"Is it possible that there is a teenager smarter than her?" Gaia wondered, amazed.

"So, that's it? Who's going to be the first to speak?" Artemis wanted to know, looking closely at the mothers.

"Larissa and I are together," Calista said bluntly.

Artemis remained serious momentarily and saw the mothers exchange worried looks at the girl's silence. They weren't expecting this. Little by little, a smile formed at the corner of her mouth until she had a broad smile.

"I already suspected that." The girl admitted, finding Calista's expression of relief amusing. "The harvest party, where you spent the night hanging out together; Ms. Weems arriving Saturday morning in a party dress the day after the fundraiser; Ms. Weems arriving Monday morning in the same outfit she wore the Sunday night. It was obvious that she was seeing someone. It could only be you, Mom. Or maybe, I hoped it was, since you said you had gotten close with the excuse of having been friends when you were young."

Calista couldn't believe what she was hearing. This whole time, she thought the two of them had been discreet.

"You know, Lista, our daughter is brilliant. But it seems you and Larissa are not the queens of discretion." Gaia made fun of Calista.

Before Calista could respond, Artemis intervened. "They're not. But neither are you, Mumma G. Or do you think I haven't noticed that you've been spending too much time with the history teacher?" Artemis was having fun seeing the mothers' surprised faces.

"History teacher, you traitor?" Calista was stunned and, at the same time, couldn't contain her laughter. "You never told me anything! And you had several opportunities to do so!"

"Several opportunities? When? Have you seen each other lately?" Artemis asked with a suspicious look.

"Yes, we have been seeing each other precisely to discuss the matter that brings us here today. Not to talk about my personal life." Gaia said with a glance at Calista.

This brought Calista back to reality. "Yeah, that wasn't exactly the topic, but we'll return to it later. You're not getting away, G," Calista said, bringing her eyes closer. Turning to Artemis, now more serious, she said: "Actually, the matter is a little more serious than saying that I and now, your Mumma G, are seeing someone." Gaia rolled her eyes when she heard her name. Deep down, she was amused by the whole situation. They looked like teenagers telling each other secrets.

Calista retold her story with Larissa to Artemis. Now that Gaia knew everything, the narration became more fluid and calm. She tried to elaborate on the shapeshifting part, which only confused the girl's mind more. Then, like all her delicacy (or lack thereof), Gaia explained Larissa's anatomical change and how it could be related to Artemis. Calista didn't know whether to laugh or be shocked by such clarity from her ex-wife.

Artemis, in turn, paid close attention to Calista and hung on to every word said. The world opened up before her, and the feeling of belonging grew. Finally, she could understand where she was coming from. If Larissa wasn't her mother, she at least had all the elements that made Artemis, Artemis—blonde, blue eyes, tall, shapeshifting. Artemis had traits of Calista and, possibly, her donor’s. But the most striking characteristics that made her stand out, now, she knew, came from Larissa.

At the end of the narrative, the girl remained silent for a few minutes. Calista and Gaia could tell she was going over the entire conversation in her head. Her gaze moved around the apartment but didn't stay on anything; they were looking into a void. After a few apprehensive minutes, Artemis finally stood at both mothers sitting in front of her.

"Something tells me this would be a great opportunity to behave like a misunderstood teenager. But apparently, even you didn't understand that until recently." Artemis said wisely. "It's strange to think that I could be a part of someone, but simultaneously, it's like we found the last piece of my puzzle."

Calista's eyes watered as she listened to her daughter and felt Gaia's hand squeeze hers.

"So, are you okay? After knowing all this." Calista wanted to be sure.

"I'm not upset or feeling betrayed or anything like that if that's what you want to know." Artemis hurried to assure her mother. "But I'm intrigued, of course, and a little scared to know the whole truth. And what will it be like between Ms. Weems and me when she finds out about it, too?"

"She already knows, my precious. She was with me at the party, remember? When we met the geneticist." Calista said. "And she's delighted, I can tell. She likes you. Her concern, and mine, was how you and Gaia might react to all this."

Artemis wanted to know how Gaia felt about the possibility of her being related to Larissa. Before her mother could respond, the girl made a point of stating that, for her, her mothers were Gaia and Calista. For her, it didn't matter what the genetic test might say; Gaia would always be her mother. And that was enough for Calista to burst into tears. Her heart was empty of all worry and guilt.

Gaia was less sensitive but seemed emotional. She had already told Calista that it made no difference to her whether or not Larissa was Artemis's biological mother or some relative. But hearing the same thing from Artemis made her more confident that the two would always be connected by a bond even more vital than genes, regardless of the exam results.

That way, Calista's plans to spend Thanksgiving together for the four of them remained on track. Artemis had no objection to having Larissa present, of course. And she tried to persuade Gaia to bring the history teacher, too. Calista took advantage of the teacher's mention to extract all the information about this new relationship from Gaia. She used trust, respect, and mutuality to blackmail her ex-wife emotionally. And it worked. Gaia gave in and told Calista and Artemis everything, making the girl promise to keep it a secret at school to preserve her and the teacher's position.

What was supposed to be just lunch became an afternoon snack and dinner. Gaia and Artemis provided all the meals. Before sleeping, Calista called Larissa and told her about the conversation with her daughter. The next day was Sunday, and they would spend the day together, as always, but Calista couldn't wait to tell her. Larissa received the news with great joy. She confessed that she was uneasy about this conversation, even though she said Calista everything would turn out fine. The only part Calista hid from Larissa was the flirtation between Gaia and the history teacher. It was up to Gaia to tell Larissa as a friend and boss. Gaia still didn't know if this new relationship would succeed, so she preferred to keep a low profile.

The most important thing for Calista was that now she and Larissa could live their lives openly. And Larissa drew Calista's attention to this. After so many years, the two finally had the chance to start a life together. And the Thanksgiving would be just the beginning of this new journey.

Chapter 13 | Chapter 15

#wlw #lesbian #sapphic #larissa weems x ofc #f/f fanfic #larissa weems #lesbian fic #original character #larissa weems fanfic #principal larissa weems #gwendoline christie #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #today on tumblr #happy friday #calista cosanto #pushing towards you series

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hollyethecurious · 1 year

Text

CS AU: Pan Says... (5/?)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: I know, I know, I KNOW! I’m sorry. I’m a bad, bad writer, making y’all wait so long for this update. I truly apologize. My muse took a bit of a sabbatical, but hopefully she’s back and ready to work. I have things pretty well mapped out for this fic from this point on, so fingers crossed I can keep her on task.

Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills on this one!

Rated E /Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Part Five

Consciousness returned slowly. The buzz of the fluorescents, the warmth of the blanket, the soft caress of fingers carding through his hair, the scent of his Swan, the dryness of his tongue as it stuck to the roof of his mouth, all points of awareness that were sharpening with clarity as he broke free from the confines of sleep.

“Killian?” Emma whispered, having sensed the change in his breathing. “Killian, are you awake?”

With effort, Killian managed to pry his eyes open and focus on the concerned pinch in his Swan’s brows. Reaching up, he intended to soothe it away with the pad of his thumb, but when he opened his mouth to respond, all that came out was a croaked, “Aye,” before he erupted into a fit of coughs from the cool air hitting the aridness of his throat.

“Hang on,” Emma said, scrambling from their bed so she could fetch him a glass of water. “Drink this.”

Bringing the cup to his lips, Killian took slow sips. Once his thirst was adequately slaked, he handed the cup back to Emma and asked, “What happened?”

A look of distress flashed across her features as she responded, “You don’t… what’s the last thing you remember?”

Rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger, the memories of what had happened before he’d blacked out began to flood his mind. A maelstrom of emotions bombarded him: fear, anger, lust, guilt, terror, euphoria, and relief. His pulse began to race, his heart hammering against his ribs as he reached up and felt for the small puncture wound in his neck, even as his body began to respond to the memory of Emma on her knees in front of him.

“I, um…” His cheeks began to feel warm, and the tips of his ears were practically on fire. “I remember you… you saved me. When Pan had me injected with poison. You…” In an attempt to even his breathing and slow his libido, Killian sucked in a deep breath and sat up further in their bed, only to realize he was still completely naked. Ignoring how that realization spiked his arousal, Killian refocused his thoughts. “I remember them administering the antidote, but everything after that is… how did we get back here?”

Seemingly oblivious to his current turmoil, Emma tucked her legs beneath her and told him, “Whatever they gave you knocked you out pretty fast. One of the Lost Ones helped me get you back to our room.”

Killian sat up from the headboard, his eyes raking over her for signs of harm. “A Lost One? Did he… Did he hurt you? Pan didn’t--”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, reaching out and taking his hand in her own. “He just carried you back, put you in bed, then…”

“Then… what?”

Emma chewed her lip, her eyes cutting towards the camera that monitored them. Scooting towards him, she lowered her voice and shared, “He told me something, and I… I think he knows you. I think he--”

“Knows me?” Killian balked. “What did he say?”

Running her tongue over her lip, Emma flicked her gaze once more to the surveillance, giving Killian a moment to try, once again, to calm his body’s reactions.

“When they took you away,” she began, her voice still low, but tight and halting, “he told me that if I cared for you at all, then I had to do what Pan said. There was something in his eyes. He looked, I don't know… scared. For you. Then, after we got you back here, I confronted him about it, and he said, ‘There are only two reasons people find themselves here. Because they have either crossed Pan, or because they are the punishment for those who did.’ He said our being here is a punishment for someone who crossed Pan.”

“And you think I am that Lost One’s punishment?”

Emma opened her mouth, but was cut off by the crackle of speakers, preempting her reply as Pan’s voice echoed through their room.

“Oh, good! You’re awake. I was afraid you’d sleep the rest of the day away.”

“We wouldn’t want to put a damper on whatever sick or sadistic plan you have in mind for us,” Emma muttered sarcastically, earning her an amused huff from Killian. He was gladdened that she hadn’t lost any of her fire, despite the ordeal they’d both been through.

“Now, now, Emma,” Pan tutted. “I’m here to offer you a reward.”

“A reward?” Killian parroted, dubiously.

“Why, yes!” Pan declared, a little excitedly. “You both took your respective punishments for breaking my rules in stride, so I thought a nice hot shower might be in order.”

Killian met Emma’s gaze. He could see the desire for such a luxury swimming in her eyes, and despite his current state, and the fact he would not be able to keep certain matters hidden from her, he nodded his agreement. Emma left the bed to begin taking off her clothes, and Killian swung himself around so he was seated on the edge of the bed with his back to her, willing his erection to subside.

An exercise in futility, for any progress he might have made was quickly forgotten when she called out to him that she was ready and he had to join her at the door, both of them completely naked. If she noticed his arousal - and honestly, how could she not - she said nothing. Simply took his hand and led them along the line that led to the shower room.

“You go first, love,” he told her, knowing that only one shower actually worked. Grabbing her caddy from the bench, he handed it to her then picked his up and held it in front of him, hiding himself from her view even as he turned around in an attempt to give her some privacy. An action that would also prove futile.

“Oh, one more thing before you begin,” Pan’s voice grated from overhead. “I’m sure you’d like a towel this time, so Emma, in order for you to receive yours, Killian has to watch while you bathe yourself. You won’t mind, will you Killian?”

Grinding his teeth together, Killian peered over his shoulder and willed his gaze to remain fixed on hers. She gave him a small shrug, but he could see in her expression how she didn’t want a repeat of the last time they’d defy Pan’s “offer” to earn towels.

“It isn’t as though you haven’t seen it all before,” she said, clearly trying to justify her willingness to comply while still leaving it up to him. “But I don't need a towel. I can just drip dr--”

“No,” Killian sighed, turning around while keeping his caddy firmly held in front of him. “You’re right. A small price to pay to ensure your comfort.” Even if it robs me of my own, Killian thought to himself as he adjusted his stance.

Though he was tempted to set his focus over Swan’s head and onto the back, tiled wall, Killian knew Pan would not come through with the promised item if he felt Killian had not made good on his end of the deal, so he watched as Emma lathered shampoo into her hair, the suds sliding down her neck and collecting atop her breasts before slipping between and continuing on in their descent down her body.

Shifting his stance again, his buttocks clenched and a groan caught in the back of his throat. Each movement of her hand as it scrubbed the soap filled loofah along her skin brought forth a memory of how she had pleasured herself beneath his gaze earlier that day. His hardened cock bobbed, brushing against the plastic of the caddy he was still clutching at his groin, and Killian felt ridiculous for the way his lust was running away with him. It wasn’t as if she were putting on a show. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way she was showering, but the mere fact she was wet and naked, with suds covering her body while within arms reach, coupled with the memories of her splayed out before him, which were seared into his mind's eye, were enough to have him rigid and weeping by the time she’d finally finished.

“Okay,” Emma said, collecting her items and stepping out from the hot spray. “Your turn.” They quickly switched places, and Emma inquired to the open space around them. “I don’t suppose you’d go ahead and give me that towel so I can dry off while taking my turn to watch, huh?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Pan answered, in that tone that always made Killian’s gut tighten with apprehension. “I think you’ll want to wait for your towel since the only way Killian will be earning his is if… you wash him.”

“Fuck,” Killian muttered under his breath, his groin throbbing at the mere thought of Emma’s touch running over the wet planes of his body.

From behind him, Emma sighed. The splash of her feet against the wet tile preceded her presence, and Killian was hyper aware of how close she stood as she squeezed his shampoo into her hands.

“Wet your hair for me,” she instructed. “ And you might have to crouch down, so I can…”

Killian obeyed and tried to center his focus on anything other than the way the scratch of her nails on his scalp sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. When she told him to turn around so she could begin washing his front, he studied every tile, every faucet, every crack, every water stain within the room so as to try and ignore the feel of the loofah scrubbing him clean. His neck, his chest, his shoulders, his arms, his torso, just to the waist, before she instructed him to turn once more.

His efforts were futile, though. The hot spray beating down on his cock nearly sent him over the edge as she continued her thorough cleansing. His back, his buttocks, the backs of his thighs, his calves, his heels.

“Turn,” Emma said, crouched down at his feet and working her way back up his legs.

He shouldn’t have looked down. He shouldn’t have taken in the sight of her naked, wet, and practically on her knees before him once again. For with the image came the memory of her mouth wrapped around his cock, her tongue teasing his tip, and the way she swallowed around his length. When her hand brushed against his balls he was lost. Unable to keep himself from coming, he grabbed onto his cock and managed to turn away from her; a pained, guttural noise reverberated from his chest from the ruined orgasm she’d inadvertently given him that was spilling over his hand.

“Killian? Are you okay? What’s… oh.”

“Fuck!” he shouted in anger, slamming his hand against the tile wall. Humiliation and shame burned at his cheeks, and when Emma’s hand lightly grazed his shoulder, he bucked it off, turning his body further away from hers. “Don’t,” he clipped out on a huff of breath as a shudder ran through him. “Please, I…”

What the hell was wrong with him?

“I-I’m sorry, love,” he panted. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“Hey,” she soothed. “It’s okay. Will you… will you please look at me?”

His shoulders slumped as he complied, turning to face her even though he couldn’t yet look her in the eye.

Her hand cupped his cheek and he nuzzled into her touch on instinct, his eyes slipping shut until she said, “Killian, we have no idea what Pan actually gave you earlier.”

His eyes flew open and he jerked back, his mouth agape as he stared at her. That possibility had never crossed his mind.

“I was thinking about it while you were asleep,” she confided. “I know Pan said it was poison and an antidote, but… he could have given you anything. For all we know, he gave you some sort of hyped up aphrodisiac or stimulant for this very purpose.” Stepping forward, she closed the space between them and took his face in her hands once more. “He wants us to suffer. He wants to make things awkward between us. He wants to force us into situations that are humiliating and vulnerable and harmful. None of this is your fault.”

Killian swallowed hard and took in a shuddering breath.

“And just for the record,” she continued on with a soft yet coy smile, “the fact that I turn you on in no way offends me or makes me uncomfortable. You don’t have to hide that fact from me.”

Before Killian could respond, the sound of something being rolled into the room caught both their attention. A cart, ladened with towels, had been pushed through the door. Emma grabbed Killian’s hand, prompting him forward so they could grab the towels before they might be whisked away again, but he resisted.

“Hang on,” he said, a fresh blush coloring his cheeks. “Let me just… clean up first.”

“Right.” Gesturing towards the cart, she said. “I’ll just grab us both some towels.”

Killian quickly rinsed away the remnants of his orgasm, giving himself a few extra moments to simply stand in the calming waters of the shower, allowing his heart rate and breathing to normalize before joining Swan by the towel cart.

“Here,” she said, handing him two towels. “I wasn’t sure how many you’d want.”

An amused sound fell from his lips as he wrapped a towel around his waist before draping the other over his shoulders. Swan was currently swathed from head to toe in three towels, with a fourth clutched against her chest. Clearly she was taking no chances of being left cold and wet like last time.

They were both relieved to find that, unlike last time, everything was exactly as they’d left it when they returned to their cell room. Once they’d finished drying off and getting dressed, another surprise was in store for them.

A meal. An unprompted and unearned meal. A tray of their favorite foods appeared behind the food panel without any warning or strings attached. Or so they hoped.

“Tell me more about what the Lost One said.” They had been quietly consuming their meal for several long minutes before the silence had begun to further unnerve him. A wry smile rose at the corner of Emma’s lip prompting Killian to ask, “What?”

“I’d tried to bring up this topic in the shower, but you appeared to have other things on your mind.”

“You did?”

Emma nodded, an amused expression set on her face as she took another bite of her grilled cheese sandwich. “Mhmm,” she hummed, waiting until she’d finished the bite before adding, “I asked if you had any ideas as to who the Lost One might be, but you were too… focused on the task Pan had set that I don’t think you even heard me.”

Pawing at the patch of skin behind his ear that always seemed to flare up when something embarrassed him, Killian mumbled a half-hearted apology, knowing her teasing tone and the mischievous glint in her eye were in an effort to keep the subject light-hearted.

“Yes, well,” he said, popping a grape into his mouth, “Any task of Pan’s worth doing…”

He left the statement unfinished, allowing it to hang between them for a moment before turning serious once more.

“Honestly, I haven’t a clue who it could be,” he confessed. “I can’t imagine my being here would be a punishment to anyone in my life other than Liam, and neither of those men is my brother.”

“You’re sure?”

“Aye,” he stated with confidence. “Liam is broader, more solidly built, and besides,” he took in a deep breath, calming himself as the memory of the last time he’d heard his brother’s voice filled his mind. “We heard that voicemail. He thinks I’m on some sort of trip, and the thought of it obviously gave him comfort. Plus, I can’t really see Liam getting involved with someone like Pan. He’s too… noble and self-righteous.”

Emma snorted at Killian’s exasperated tone. “Sounds a little like David.”

“Speaking of David,” Killian hedged, picking at the remains of his meal. “Any chance he might be--”

Emma cut him off with a shake of her head. “Neither of them are David, but…”

“But… what?”

She chewed her lip for a moment, guilt pinching her features as she whispered, “I have wondered if my disappearance and presumed death isn’t some sort of punishment for him or Mary Margaret, but honestly… like you with Liam, I can’t imagine either of them getting caught up in some sideways deal with the likes of Pan. And I have no idea who I would be a punishment for, besides the Nolans.”

Killian scratched his fingers through the scruff at his jaw. “I suppose we’ll have to wait for an opportunity to ask them outright.”

“Yeah…” Emma hedged, collecting their tray of finished dishes and depositing it back on the exposed shelf. “That’s if Pan hasn’t done something to them in retaliation for talking to me about it.”

As if on cue, the speakers overhead crackled, signaling the impending voice of their captor.

“I take it you both enjoyed your shower and dinner?”

Neither of them answered, seeing as Pan’s questions were generally rhetorical. However, it seemed he’d hoped for some sort of response this time.

“Come now,” he pouted. “No thanks or show of gratitude for my generosity today? Might I remind you that I required nothing of you in exchange for both the showers and the meal? Not to mention my leniency regarding the towels… considering Emma never finished completely washing you, Killian.”

Mutters of ‘thanks’ begrudgingly fell from their lips, followed by startled gasps as the room was suddenly plunged into darkness.

“Perhaps a good night’s sleep will help you both gain some perspective on my indulgences, because rest assured… tomorrow our game will be back in full swing. Round three awaits you both.”

“Goody,” Emma grumbled, climbing into bed and settling herself beneath the covers. “Are you going to be able to sleep?” she asked, propping herself up onto her side, facing him. “You were out for a while after… whatever they gave you earlier.”

“Aye,” Killian replied, laying down beside her with his eyes trained at the ceiling. His mind, however, was not on sleep.

“Tell me,” Emma said, softly, sensing that something was troubling him.

It took Killian a few long moments before deciding to share his burden with her. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her, or endanger either of them in any way at the prospect of breaking Pan’s rules, but the more he thought about it…

“I don’t want our first time to be forced,” he whispered. “Or coerced.” Swallowing thickly, he murmured, “I don’t want to fuck you because Pan tells me to, I want…”

“What?” she said on a husky breath. “What do you want?”

Turning his head, he locked eyes with her, fighting against the desperation to reach out and hold her as he declared, “I want to make love to you. I want you on our terms, not his. I want to have you because you want me too, not so we can endure this hell a little longer. I want to think back on my time with you and have something pure, something untainted to remember. Something I can hold onto with happiness.”

Tentatively, she reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair. “So do I.”

Air whooshed from his lungs. He wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them, take her in his arms, and kiss the breath out of her, but… “It’s risky,” he reminded her. “I shudder to think what Pan might do. I know I’m willing to face whatever punishment he might have in store for me, but the thought of him hurting you--”

Emma stopped his words with the press of her fingers against his lips, and held them there as she repositioned herself, straddling his waist. “You’re worth the risk.” Pulling him up by the collar of his shirt, she fused her mouth to his, but not before demanding, “Fuck Pan, and make love to me, Killian.”

(Yeah, I know... feel free to yell at me in the reblog/comments 😁)

Part Six

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #pan says...#words by hollye

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