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chrollohearttags · 7 months

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face to face • nanami kento

synopsis: a steamy rendezvous with your boss and lover becomes even more complicated when he decides to answer a phone call from the last person you wanted him to.

content + themes: infidelity/affairs, backshots, hair pulling, toxic relationship with reader + gojo, alcohol use, praise kink, slight foot play, squirting, pussy eating, pleasure dom nanaminnn (and he’s a lil toxic too), ofc reader calls him daddy

word count: 3.5K

📝: so this lil hc is gonna take on a mind of its own I see 🌚 LMAO y’all enjoy though. Like I’m really ready to make an entire story out of this. Tell me if y’all are team Gojo or team Nanami.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.

“I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t wait up for me..”

the text bubble going from lime green to bright blue in a matter of seconds as it was delivered..the contact on the other end more than likely wouldn’t even acknowledge it until hours later, you were certain of it. All but betting on the fact that it’d be left on read as well. A clear sign of how pretentious and petty they were..the culprit in question was none other than your boyfriend of three years, Satoru Gojo. A term you used rather sparingly nowadays; due in part to the fact that he hadn’t been much of one in the past year or so. To the majority of others around you, your union could be described as nothing more than mere goals. Your friends would constantly talk the two of you up and confess that they were jealous of the fact that you had bagged such a handsome, fine, sweetheart of a boyfriend. However, as the age old cliche stated..looks were rather deceiving and behind closed doors, your relationship was in utter turmoil. Arguments by day and steamy make up sex by night; doing very little to compensate for the pain he put you through. Hearing stories about how he was at the club with this girl or caught texting that one. Granted, you knew he was the quintessential playboy type when you first made his acquaintance and although he promised you were different, vowing to prove so if you gave him the chance..it was merely another one of his many lies. It didn’t take long before the chivalrous facade dropped and he revealed his true colors. There wasn’t much he had to offer nowadays and quite frankly, you were going through the motions; living as mere roommates if anything.

however, you had begun to find solace elsewhere. In the arms of another man, who just so happened to be much closer than anyone would ever expect! No more were the nights of crying yourself to sleep when you were cradled in the arms of none other than your boss and newfound lover:

“Kento…hi, baby…”

“(Y/N), my love. You look absolutely stunning. Please..come in.”

Nanami Kento, the newly appointed chairman and chief operating officer of SorceTech, the biomedical engineering conglomerate that you had been employed at for the better part of three years. A Fortune 500 company with an excellent reputation and it couldn’t have been in better hands in terms of leadership. Kento was a man of few words but one of integrity, promise and strong conviction. He had vowed to serve this company to the best of his ability and ensure that every employee was treated with dignity and respect under his authority. Not only that, he planned to implement all sorts of helpful changes and he stuck true to that. Regardless of the adversity, he stood on his words at all times. It was just a few of the redeemable qualities that drew you towards him. And once he appointed you as his faithful executive assistant, it was only a matter of time before that beautiful professional relationship blossomed into something more. The attraction was almost instantaneous..how could it not be when you were so perfect? Hence the reason he didn’t seem to care when you told him you had a boyfriend, especially one that hadn’t treated you with the utmost care and respect. His only response: “my apologies, I figured that you’d be seeking a husband by now. Three years with no proposal sounds like a mere waste of time to me.” It was that sentiment alone that solidified the fact that Kento..regardless of technicalities, was your true soulmate.

so whilst Satoru was out doing God knows what on this lovely Friday evening, here you were enjoying the company of the dashing blonde, who had so gently taken your hand as he ushered you over the threshold of his high rise condominium. Placing a soft peck atop the knuckles before pulling you into his barreled chest. Sporting an oceanic blue suede robe and matching slippers, Kento curled you in his grasp and initiated a brief makeout session, one that had your heart thumping through your flesh. It was the same sensation he invoked every time you two met like this. The sheer thrill of being in love with someone who reciprocated it but the possibility of being caught also lingered on your mind. He knew there was no time to squander, so without any more words being exchanged, he’d deepened those pecks..slowly and delicately gliding those spaghetti straps of your silk dress, peppering the skin with kisses on the way down. The scent of vanilla wafting through his nostrils as he inhaled your perfume. Soon, his lips would make home against the sensitive crook of your neck..where he had placed kisses several times. Slowly but surely, you two became one, right there in the comfort of his living room. It was something he’d never grow tired of, even if you were meeting under less than ideal circumstances. Naturally, he would’ve loved it if you were coming over as his woman and not one he had had to share. Especially when he knew the other man didn’t deserve you whatsoever. He was more than aware of Satoru’s reputation. Hell, he knew him long before you did so it baffled Kento when he popped up with someone like you on his arm. He knew it could only lead to disaster in the long run because he was a pretentious manwhore. Only considering himself in the grand scheme of things…

hence why any guilt absolved when he got you alone and licked every inch of your skin, undressing you along the way. He knew you wouldn’t or couldn’t leave him anytime soon nor would he ask such a thing. Old habits were hard to break and when you spent three long years living with and curating a life with someone, up and leaving wasn’t always a menial task. There were so many times you wanted to walk away, leave and just never look back. But he dragged you back in..even though the feelings were no longer there, you couldn’t part ways. So whilst you were in his arms, he’d make your nights much easier. Bringing you joy and true love when possible.

“I’ve missed you..” “You just saw me at work, Kento.” Giggling into his ear as his hands grabbed your breasts and made subtle squeezes. Even so, it had been a few hours too long since he’d felt you and that wouldn’t suffice. “And I thought about you all day long.” By this time, your bra had hit the floor and they were exposed to the crisp air radiating from the AC. That skin tight ensemble shuffled around your torso and your top half left completely nude. That’s when you’d feel his muscly arm hook around your waist and scoop you into his grasp, prompting you to place your arms on his neck so he could carry to the bedroom. The entire trek there was filled with sloppy, slow pecks..ones that continued as he laid you flat on the mattress, allowing your back to mesh with the cushy linen. Your limbs soon tangled into a heap of passion..touching, caressing and stroking one another’s flesh. Your fingertips lingering on the sides of his smoothly shaven, chiseled jawline whilst his own delicately toyed with your upper body. Running those digits along the curvature of your hips and waist, planting gentle kisses on the way down. But not before suckling on your nipples, just to watch your reaction.

“You always did like when I do that..”

“Yes, I love it..and I love you.”

taunting you with deviant glares and light chuckles as those lips trailed further south, eventually reaching your mound. Where he’d tear away those thin panty strings with his teeth and discard them..it was blatantly obvious that he wasn’t here to play around tonight. He wanted you, needed you even and desperately. It didn’t matter if you’d go back home to your sorry boyfriend afterwards or if you told him you loved him and didn’t mean it. Right now, his one true desire and wish was to please you.

“Yeah? Well I’m a man that believes in actions over words so I’ll be glad to prove just how much….I love you.”

and it was with that declaration, Kento dove head first between your slightly parted thighs. He’d pry them wide open on his way down, licking each one with a long, dredged glide until he reached that center. Which was already glistening with slick..just awaiting his touch. Whilst at work today, you couldn’t keep your mind off of him! His cologne, his attire..all of it was getting you hot and bothered. You wanted to snatch him up from his meeting and ride him to kingdom come, right there atop his desk. You even wore something extra revealing just to capture his attention and he’d certainly noticed because when you bent down to retrieve a pen, he’d run a hand up your leg and squeeze your asscheek lightly. It was the subtle flirtation throughout the day that made these steamy late night hookups all the more fun!

“Here, give me your hands, my love.” Giving you a tone of absolute reassurance that he’d take care of you. Clasping your fingers together as one, (y/n) kept those legs to either side and allowed him room to maneuver. Kento loved when you kept your heels on. It was something so sensual about the YSL heels and diamond anklet he gifted you, drudging across his back as he ate you out. He’d start with gentle kitten licks; getting his bearings before going full fledged. He’d part those fat little pussy lips his tongue, letting the tip graze your clit, which made you tremble. It didn’t take long before you’d hear the sound of slurping noises arise from his mouth. He’d snatch his left hand away for just a moment to pull them further apart and dive nose deep into that flesh. Before proceeding to let you clench it for comfort once more. He’d latch onto that swollen little bud and suck until that slick began to dribble down his chin. A sloppy, nasty mess of his saliva and your arousal mixing around in his mouth. He was absolutely enamored with pleasing you..it was his one and only priority, to ensure that you were satisfied. He’d stay down there, bobbing his head up and down until you began to convulse, attempting to push away but you’d only wind up grinding yourself against his face.

“Aaaah! Ken….I’m gonna come, baby..”

But to your dismay, he couldn’t allow that just yet. As much as he wanted to see you reach your ultimate bliss, he wasn’t coming up until he felt like it. Switching to a combination of fingers and lips, Kento would work your little cunt over until he felt that tight squeeze before tugging those digits out and placing them into your mouth. Hoping to pacify you for a moment. The quintessential give and take he was working towards drove you insane. “You taste so fucking good, my love. I can never get enough of you.” He’d resume his teasing, now with that thumb pad pressing to your clit and tracing tiny circles. He’d rotate it around until he felt you clamping down and that’s when he’d allow you to finally reach your peak.

“..come.”

the only word he’d utter before you wet him up with a stream of juices, that he’d happily drink. If that philandering asshole wasn’t man enough to appreciate you, he’d gladly take on the role! Still coming down from that climatic high, (y/n) trembled against the crisp white sheets, crying from the immense pleasure. He’d brush the side of your face whilst feeding you soft kisses to calm you down. Tasting yourself with slow pecks…moaning into your mouth. He was so infatuated with you, loving every moment that you got to spend together. In a quick, swift motion; his frame pressed gently against your own, Kento would lean up only by a hair’s breadth to ease inside of you, mumbling against your lips to stare into your eyes as he became one with you. “Look at me, baby. Look at me..”

Whispering softly with a sweet tone. He always made you feel so safe and secure when you made love. A lot more than what could be said for the man you laid next to every night. Kento eventually eased himself inside..tip and then carefully, inch by inch, you became one. Your back arching immediately.. “..oh God. Kent..take me, please.” Pleading with your arms and legs coiling his entire frame. Eventually, he’d feed you slow, deep strokes. Each one calculated and careful to ensure that you felt the pleasure you desperately deserved. After about five or so thrusts, he’d shift his head for your faces to meet. It was his favorite view in the entire world..staring at literal perfection whilst being inside what felt like heaven. “..you’re so warm..and tight, angel.” Admitting in a breathy huff, gritting his teeth and trying to maintain his composure. He couldn’t understand for the life of him why that fucking idiot would ever treat you less than that of a goddess, less known be unfaithful. Not when your pussy was this damn good..was he insane?! Regardless, Kento enjoyed his time wisely with you. “But you’ll let me stretch it out, won’t you? He pushed that idiot out of his mind and pressed his cock further between your spongy walls..even drumming up sloshing noises; your slick forming a thin membrane between his thighs. “Fuck…yes!—that dick feels so good.” Confessing in a soft whimper, crying from the intense pleasure. To which he’d quickly quell you..gliding a thumb underneath your eyes to wipe the tears away. Placing that thumb into your mouth shortly thereafter.. “..shh..it’s okay. Don’t cry. I know it’s a lot but you take me so well. You’re doing so good, baby. Just relax.” Praising you without so much as a second thought. It came naturally when you made him feel like a new man. Pressing a palm to your forehead, Kento glared into your eyes before shoving his tongue into your mouth for another kiss. Legs coiling his back as those hips rammed into your center. The collision of your flesh causes a recoil and clapping noises to fill the room. He could feel himself twitching and pulsating inside of that pussy..throbbing and waiting to burst..those feelings were like none other. And needless to say, your boss was loving every single, solitary second. Removing those shoes as he noticed the tension in your legs, Kento began to knead his fingers into your calves to ensure they didn’t cramp up from the constant motion. Your anklet dangling by his ear and his wristwatch refracting from the light whilst he rubbed on your feet.

“You’re so close..so am I, sweetheart. But I don’t want to come just yet. I still need to savor you a little while longer.”

blurting out the sentiment while gliding his lips over your ankle, toes and top of your foot. His tongue delicately glides over them, popping a couple into his mouth to suck on. If this man didn’t stop, you were going to be living in his fucking skin! But shortly after, you’d feel his already sluggish thrusts completely halt and that’s when he’d pull out. Prompting you to turn over and arch your back. That plump ass was no joke either but if he took one more glance at that gorgeous face, nothing would’ve stopped him from nutting all in that pussy. This way, he had a tad bit more control. Once you were on all fours, arms underneath your head, he’d tease that throbbing cock against your folds before gliding it back in. Causing you to grip the sheets on instinct. Your face remained buried in the pillowy mattress top when those thrusts resumed. It took only mere seconds to regather his bearings but once he had his pace back, he’d continue fucking you senseless..thrashing you around and watching that ass jiggle with each movement. “G-ahh! Fuck…your body is so beautiful. I can stare at it forever.” Doting on you with that dick nestled deep between your folds. Keeping his palm pressed to the small of your back and ever so gently, slipping his thumb in between our cheeks; eventually pressing into that other aching hole. “God and you’re such a mess..so fucking wet. I won’t be able to hold out much longer.” Layers of silky cream began to form all over that shaft. He couldn’t take much more but he’d persist a bit longer; playing the long game to ensure that you were more than satisfied. Clawing into the crisp linen, (y/n) rolled your hips and threw your ass back against him, meeting each of those strokes. “Oooh shit..you’re fucking me so good, daddy. Thank you so much.” Crying out through sucked teeth and trembling lips. Just then, his tempo faltered just a bit from hearing your words. Especially at being called such a name.

“Mmph..don’t tell me that, sweetheart. I might not ever let you leave.”

suddenly, you’d feel a light grasp on your throat and your head tug back before the warmth of his breath cast over your ear. “I mean, you’re mine after all…this pussy, this beautiful body..your heart. It all belongs to me. I don’t care about him..you’re mine. Daddy’s the only one you need.”

reaffirming both you and himself as he sped up momentarily, just enough to bring you right to the edge. It was almost as if his strokes were calculated. Intricately maneuvering inside of you to prod at your spot but not press too hard in hopes of inducing an orgasm. He could hear you whimpering and even asking him for permission to come. “Shh..not yet, not yet.” But he had to wait for the right moment to allow it. And it would seem that the ideal timing would arrive when you heard the faint buzzing of a phone..your eyes were squeezed shut and your face was once again planted in the mattress; completely unaware of what was about to transpire. Hearing a soft chuckle emit from Kento, you didn’t even have time to process what was going on when you felt a hand coiling your hair and pulling your head up.

“But I think now is as good of a time as any..” with you right on the brink of climatic collapse, he’d continue pounding at an almost drill-like speed, imploring you to let go any time you felt like it. To which you didn’t disappoint!..those sheets instantly flooded with your stream of juices. You’d find yourself quivering and convulsing uncontrollably after holding back for so long. “OH MY GOD!—FUCK!” Screaming out in pure bliss, even whimpering as if you had been completely broken. You couldn’t even contain yourself; it was so immensely powerful. But alas, that moment of ecstasy would soon be coupled by the satisfaction of revenge when you’d hear the faint crackling of a secondary voice, yelling and cursing..one that was rather familiar, with a mortified face to match! Having just come to the realization of what your lover was up to, you’d peer down underneath you and see your phone illuminated and in the midst of a phone call. You’d reach for it and attempt to answer but to no avail…it was too late to cover up your tracks. “Satoru! What is it?—“ However, that wasn’t all…you could see a small box in the corner with a photo of your own reflection..but on the main screen?

“Where the fuck are you, (y/n)?! What are you doing?!”

was your very irate and unhappy ‘boyfriend’ Satoru, who had just possibly witnessed something no man would ever want to: his lady getting off at another man’s hands. More so specifically, one he knew personally. But there was no love lost or friendship between the two of them, considering the pain that he had caused you beforehand. So it came as no surprise that Kento was going to take much pride in answering his questions. Cupping you by your throat once more, he’d twist your head around to plant a kiss atop your temple.

“For God sakes, Satoru. Stop yelling. She’s exactly where she should be..with me, where she belongs.”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.

@udontknowmegotit @ajii-i @mitsuyasblackwifey @spaceforher @pluto4444 @queendijaaaa @kiiikixo @soanis @23victoria @bleach-your-panties @thabiddie23 @pharaohanubis0 @lunerenzo @prettypink-princesss @buttercupmuffins @iluvmeomm @jujutsualy @poppis-playhouse @nieceeee

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magics-neptunes-things · 7 months

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Fire and Ice

Hi guys!

Yes I know it's me again! I got a request for a story with Leah, so here is a story with Leah.

I'm open to request btw :)

I hope this story will please you, I tried to stick as much as possible to the way I imagine Leah’s dynamique.

Part 2 is HERE :) and the chapter bonus HERE.

Thanks everyone ♥

____________________________________________________________

New to Arsenal, you’ve only been part of this team since this summer. You left Bayern Munich at the end of you contract and after some hesitation between different clubs, you finally chose Arsenal. Lyon would have loved to hire you too, but you felt that English football was probably better if you wanted to continue to evolve in your career. You're only 21 and hopefully, many years ahead of you.

You were scared at first to be honest, you know the team had a lot of players who already know themselves. But Lia was particularly welcoming to you, playing the role of a little mother. Frida, who is also your teammate in the Norway team, decided to show you her favorite places in London and Alessia who arrived at the same time as you quickly offered to do the exercises in training together.

In reality, your arrival at Arsenal was very smooth even if some personalities continue to impress you a little. For example Leah, Beth or Katie. As a result, you have very little interactions with them, as Leah’s injury has not helped to create a special bond with her. Even if she was present on the day of your presentation to the rest of the group, wanted to welcome you like the others.

You do, however, enjoy evenings organized by your teammates and you go regularly. Far from your family, you don’t know anyone here and it makes you feel less alone.

So here you are, in Leah's appartment with some of the Arsenal girls. You hesitated to come since Frida wasn't here, but Alessia is and hasn’t given you much choice to do otherwise. Leah was in charge of the cocktails and only gave Lia a smirk when she asked her what she put in it. You took the time to discreetly sniff the mixture before bringing it to your lips, pleasantly surprised by the sweetness of the drink. A little misleading though, because after two or three drinks, getting up to go to the toilet took a little longer than usual.

When you came back, you drop on the couch next to Alessia, trying to get back into the conversation. You became bit uncomfortable when you realize that the discussion has turned on the girls being in couple or those who are not. You are single obviously, finding it particularly difficult to have a long-distance relationship, or with one of your teammates. In the case of a breakup, you were always afraid that it would be too complicated for you to handle.

So you say nothing, hoping that hiding behind your glass will save you from possible questions. You are very naive.

"And you, Y/N? You never mention anyone, I guess you're single?"

Beth’s question makes you grimace and you find yourself nervously biting the edge of your plastic glass before answering a simple "Yes".

"Why that?" asks Beth and you just shrugs.

"We should make her up with someone" Katie decide and you can't help but laugh a little.

"I’m a little demanding about my partner"

"Not a problem"

You roll your eyes before taking a new sip of your drink, crossing Leah’s gaze. She seems lost in her thoughts, twirling her glass in her hand. Your eyes cross a split second and you hurry to report it to Katie when she speaks again.

"We should make you profil though. Like in a dating app"

"OMG yes, I going to take something to write!"

Alessia chuckles next to you and you can't help but smile too. You don’t really take this seriously, given everyone’s blood alcohol levels, you’re sure that half of this evening will be forgotten by tomorrow morning. So you decide to play the game with a smile.

"Ok, first question" Beth begin with a notepad and a pen. "What is your house in Hogwarts?"

"How is that even a question?" Katie answers with a disgusting face.

"It's not because you don't like Harry Potter than it's the same for everyone, McCabe"

************

You let the two girls ask you questions for twenty minutes, ignoring the departure of several of your teammates. Now it’s just you, Katie, Lotte, Beth, Leah and Alessia.

"Are you a good kisser?" Beth asked, looking over her sheet.

"How am I even supposed to know that?" you ask, giggling.

"I don't know, it's your kissing skills, not mine."

You roll your eyes before answering.

"I've never received any complaints"

"Does it count?" Katie asked while looking at Beth.

"Not really. Is there anyone in this room who can testify to that?"

"What? No!" you laugh softly.

You, in reality, only have two relationship in your life and both didn't end really well. Football keeping you very busy, you maybe weren't a great girlfriend. But that doesn’t mean your first girlfriend’s infidelity should be excused, in your opinion. Anyway, the next sentence coming from Beth's mouth take you back in the reality.

"Maybe we need a sincere testimony from someone we trust…" Katie said thoughtfully.

"Maybe we can make her kiss someone here, now?" Beth answers with the same tone.

"Excuse me?" you ask with a certain concern.

But the two women didn't seem to give it the slightest care, continuing in their dialogue which makes you slightly think of Dupont and Dupond in Tintin.

"Leah is definitely the most experienced of us, she has a hunt board longer than the number of goals scored by Alexia Putellas at FC Barcelona."

"What the fuck?"

This is the first time of the evening that you hear Leah's voice, who had been content until then to make cocktails and dance in the kitchen with Lia and Caitlin. Both of Beth and Katie laugh at her offended face, finally out of their common monologue.

"Come on Leah, you have to kiss Y/N to help her finding love"

"Don't I have any say in this?" you say softly.

Beth’s gaze makes you realize that you don’t really have much of a say, but it’s especially Leah’s piercing gaze that you feel on you that electrifies you. Leah is a very beautiful woman and you must admit that if you hadn't been teammates, maybe you would have thought of her differently. But there is also her assertive and confident personality that can sometimes confuse you, you who is rather quiet and discreet, you are a bit like fire and ice.

But tonight, your eyes meet a few seconds and for once you don't look away. It's even finally Leah who looks away to look at Beth.

"Ok" Leah answers before getting up "But I'm not doing it in front of everyone. Close all your damn pretty eyes"

They all agreed without saying any word, Alessia swaping place with Leah on the couches. The captain waits patiently for everyone to close their eyes, before looking at you.

"You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, right? You're sure you want to?" she asks softly.

So softly that it surprises you at first. And you almost immediately feel overwhelmed by a wave of guilt, after all you are very well placed to know that Leah knows how to take care of the people around her. She showed it to you several times as captain of her team.

"I am" you simply answer, before adding "And you?"

"Hey don't worry about me. Go on" she gives you a smirk of her own and you smile back.

You feel particularly nervous though, becoming a little aware of the situation you’re in. Leah doesn’t seem particularly drunk, but you’re hoping she won’t be mad at you tomorrow when she realizes things. You wait a few more seconds, detailing her face and eyes looking for a trace of hesitation. But you find nothing and you finally decide to break the physical distance between you two.

Your eyes left hers and you look at her lips for a few moments, certainly looking at them for the first time. It doesn't last long however. Like a second after that, you close your eyes, your lips gently touching hers. At this distance, you can smell her perfume and shampoo. Her lips are soft and have the flavor of the cocktail she has prepared for you all evening.

But that’s not what’s calling you.

What's calling you is the way your whole body seems to react to a simple peck with Leah Williamson.

You feel like every part of your body is burning up and asking for more of Leah’s. And that's scared the shit out of you. That’s why you step back after a few seconds, wide-eyed, looking for an explanation on Leah’s face. But you can’t find anything and you can’t even determine the emotion in her eyes.

"Tell us when you're finished" Katie points.

Of course, you forgot about them. Everything that didn’t concern Leah directly had been completely zapped by your brain.

"Shut up. We haven’t even started"

Leah answers for both of you and you hardly swallow, not at all recovering from the emotions you felt. That you still feel. A second later, Leah grabs your face with both hands before kissing you. You don't lose a second before responding to her kiss, your lips moving together with an ease you have never felt before.

It's easy for you to get lost in this kiss, the sensations mixing so much that you completely lose the notion of things. Your hands slide over Leah’s hips and you find yourself sitting on her, your legs on either side of hers.

That doesn’t seem to bother her though, her tong easily finding access to yours. Your lips only separate for a few seconds, until you get enough air to start your dance again. And again.

You could have sincerely spent the rest of the evening - the night - kissing her, but one of them had to realize that you were going to get the attention of your teammates. It was Leah who put an end to the kiss first, snatching from your embrace as breathless as you. You don’t look away this time either when she looks at you, before gently pushing you away so that you find your original place on the couch.

You could have taken this as a gesture of reject, but the smile and wink she offers you when she gets up seems to be there only to reassure you that it’s not. You follow her with your eyes as she discreetly go behind the couch, leaning on her backrest, above where she was sitting until now.

"How is it possible that it lasts so long?" Alessia wines and you smile when you hear Leah's laugh.

The other girls open their eyes and the surprise appears on almost every face by discovering your positioning.

"Did you really think I was going to kiss someone to please you? Well everyone out now, I need my beauty sleep."

Rolling their eyes or grumbling, your teammates obeyed quickly. After exchanging greetings, you follow Alessia who promised to take you home. Still disturbed by these kisses, you can’t help but turn around while closing the front door hoping to meet Leah’s gaze.

You succeed, while she leaned against the central island of her kitchen. The same look as the one she used to look at you earlier appears on her face, but you can’t study it as long as you would like since you feel Alessia’s hand grab your arm, suddenly eager to find her bed.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine

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gabelew · 6 months

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The reunion of Big Bad Bazz Brigade (and Sidon) I wrote a few words about how each of them works in the group in this particular story. From Bazz's perspective though, so who's to say how truthful those observations are. Typed transcript of my scribbles under the cut:

Captain Bazz's very annoying friend group, as explained by Bazz. So no objectivity at all. Bazz: One sane man (or so he'd like to bielieve) Full of sufferig.

Rivan: Too pretty for his own good. Firmly holds the record of "most bad decisions taken in a lifetime". Direct cause of roughly 80% of Bazz's problems. No concept of personal space. The only truly good person at this table.

Gaddison: Firm believer in "violence is always the answer". Annoyingly observant but refusing to use this power for good. Stupidly strong. Stupidly gay. Sadly, -not- stupid.

Link: Chaos incarnate, no perception of long time consequences of his actions. Weirdly, the best person to turn to for some hones heart-to-heart. Both a teenager and a 120yo at the same time, with all the emotional pitfalls of it.

Sidon: Bazz's boss, Prince, adopted ypunger sibling (in a way) and old friend all at once. Maybe even more. It's complicated. Annoyingly confilict avoidant, desperate to keep everyone happy. Smitten.

Other people Bazz considers his friends, but aren't part of the gang: Kodah, Kayden, Jiahto ---

Of course I have so much more to say about every one of them, and the descriptions vary wildly, based on whose pov we choose to assume. They are all in some ways terrible and problematic, full of various traumas, but also friends who try to do their best. Such is life. There also is a story behind all of it, obviously. I don't know if I'll ever end up publishing the pages upon pages of comics I have about those guys, since it'd require loads of editing and rewrites, and i don't have this kind of time. But on the off chance I will, I want the personalities to be revealed in this way instead of big headcanon dumps. It's more fun this way.

#zora #sidon #big bad bazz brigade #bazz #botw #totk #loz #bazz botw #rivan #gaddison #link #i made them all terrible people in wildly different directions #but rivan is genuinly one good man in all of it #his penchant for making bad decisions makes it so he keeps being friends with them though #also i chose to showcase them at a party table instead of making a lineup to show off their characters a bit better. less boring this way

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dyns33 · 10 months

Text

Feeling rainy

Another Dream x female reader

“Honey, you look cloudy today. No, rainy."

"I confirm, he is very rainy at the moment."

"Matthew. Leave us."

"Right away, boss. But I'm sick of being wet all the time when I fly in the Dreaming, thank you very much."

It had taken a little time, but during their relationship, Y/N had acquired several certainties about Morpheus, especially about his mood.

The master of nightmares was not very good at expressing his feelings. Mainly because he didn't always know them himself. Partly because he was stupid and not very good with people.

His emotions were like a storm inside him. And therefore, a storm inside the Dreaming, especially when he was nervous, angry or sad.

Happy or neutral sentiments were preferable, with the sky remaining blue, the sun lighting up the whole realm, and the wind seeming to sing melodies.

Sometimes it was a little too hot, when he was in love and excited, but that was no big deal. Also, it never lasted very long.

Like the weather, Morpheus' mood was changing very quickly, and very easily.

And even though he was doing his best to hide his feelings behind a straight face, the Dreaming never left any doubt that something was bothering him.

"Is it because of last night ?" Y/N asked calmly.

"I don't wish to talk about it, love."

"Not even to please me ? I don't like it when you rain, especially because of me."

"... It's not because of you. I probably overreacted."

"Kind of like always, darling, but that doesn't mean your feelings aren't valid. Do you want a hug ?"

"... Maybe."

The tall, terrible prince of the stories certainly didn't like being seeing as weak, but when Dream was in Y/N's arms, he looked like a cat desperately trying not to purr with pleasure, totally at her mercy.

It wasn't a problem since they were alone, but dreams and nightmares guessed what was going on, as the clouds disappeared and a rainbow formed over their heads.

"She has to cuddle him all the time."

"Hush."

"Merv is right. I may be his more or less emotional raven, but he clearly needs her as an emotional human."

"Get out of my library."

All of this could have gone quite well, since Y/N had managed to decode the functioning of the Dreaming, and therefore of Dream, but sometimes he was visibly lost and upset by her emotions, not knowing how to help her, and beginning to feel them with her.

Which was not a good thing, for him, nor for his kingdom.

Y/N therefore asked for advice around her, knowing that it was useless to ask Morpheus directly. Morpheus never really answered questions. That being said, his subjects weren't necessarily better for it.

Lucienne, loyal intelligent Lucienne advised her to speak to the Lord, as communication was important, although she had to be careful how she wanted to express what she wanted to say, as the Lord could misunderstand things.

Merv and Matthew thought that they should say nothing and just cover him with kisses and compliments so that he would always be happy. Because everyone wanted him to be happy, and everyone loved rainbows.

The Corinthian had a different opinion.

"You have to do exactly like him." he declared with three huge smiles.

"What do you mean, like him ?"

"You want to help him by doing anything so that he doesn't get overwhelmed by emotions ? So don't show any emotion yourself. Keep them inside, act neutral, use a monotonous voice, express your love with ridiculously complicated little sentences, and it will be perfect."

Normally, it would have been strongly discouraged to listen to a nightmare. But despite their bickering, the Corinthian was arguably one of the creations that knew Morpheus best, so Y/N thought it wasn't a bad idea.

After all, Dream was a bit like a sponge. Absorbing all the dreamers' hopes, fears, desires, emotions, and though he was a separate being who felt distinctly, he couldn't completely cut himself off from the rest of the world.

So it seemed logical that he was sometimes troubled by others, and therefore by Y/N, with whom he spent the most time.

It didn't cost much to imitate him. It wasn't necessarily easy, but she could do it, for him, so it wouldn't be rainy or stormy too often.

So she trained in front of a mirror, doing her best to remain impassive as she thought about a joke, her deceased grandfather, an adorable kitten, her boss whom she wanted to strangle, and lots of things that never left her indifferent.

Part of her had thought Morpheus wouldn't notice. Another hoped he would see it, that he would be happy, and that she could smile to herself.

While they were watching her favorite movie together, a funny scene played out and she didn't react. Then another, and another, until Y/N felt that Dream's attention was no longer on the screen, but on her.

"My love, you seem distant."

"Not at all. I'm enjoying a pleasant evening, with you." she said with a neutral tone.

"... You didn't laugh. Would you like to see another movie ?"

"No, I like this movie. You weren't laughing either, do you want to change ?"

"I never laugh."

"Because you're too melancholic to find aything funny ?"

"... No. My laughter... I was informed that my laughter could be frightening."

Y/N then turned to him, and at that moment, she almost smiled, finding the revelation ridiculous and adorable, wanting to hear that laughter that her lover was so ashamed of, out of curiosity, but above all to reassure him.

Except that for that, she would have to show emotions, and make him feel emotions, and the goal was to remain as neutral as possible, so Y/N forced herself to remain neutral, looking at him straight in the eyes so that he knew that she was serious, while looking for the right wording.

"I'm sure your laugh is sweet." was the best thing that came to her, patting Morpheus' hand, before watching the movie again.

There were many other moments like this, at the New Inn, at the park, in the Dreaming, and Y/N really thought that everything was fine, that she was doing a good job. The weather seemed calm, with a few distant clouds, but no storms in sight.

Still, there was something in Morpheus' eyes when he looked at her. Curiosity mixed with fear. She didn't dare tell him about it, thinking it was nothing, and he didn't tell her either.

Until Matthew came to visit her as she was getting ready to go to sleep.

"I don't know if I should ask you to go to bed quickly, or advise you to stay awake."

"Why ? What's going on ? Morpheus is in trouble ?!"

"Uh... That depends. Is everything okay between you two ?"

"Yes, perfectly fine. Why ?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"I don't know. It's foggy at the moment. We've had a few rains, a few tornadoes, but Lucienne managed to calm it down. Except that... Hmm... I don't know if I should say it."

"Matthew."

"He thinks you don't love him anymore." sighed the raven, lowering his head.

The news hit Y/N straight to the heart. For a moment, she wondered how Dream could have come to such a conclusion. Then she remembered how Dream was, his difficulties in understanding people, emotions, and even if he himself didn't often show what he felt, he clearly needed others to show him.

For a month, Y/N thought to make him happy. For a month, Morpheus thought she wanted to leave him.

"... This is a terrible misunderstanding."

"Glad to hear that. Can you tell him, please ?"

Falling asleep when stressed might take a while, but Y/N needed to see Morpheus quickly, so she closed her eyes thinking hard about him, and she arrived on the balcony of his palace.

It was raining.

Obviously, Matthew had come to see her before Lucienne went to speak to her master.

Dream stood in the rain, motionless, watching his realm. He didn't move when she came close to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I love you, you know that ?" she asked shyly.

"I hope so."

"In wanting to please you, I made a mistake. Your mood changes so easily, you can be so fragile, so sensitive."

"I'm not fragile." he muttered, continuing to stare into the distance.

"You are, but that's neither an insult nor the question. I thought... The Corinthian told me that if I don't show my emotions, I won't upset you with them and that you I would be happy. I wanted to help, really. Since you know that I love you, I imagined that it wouldn't change anything. It would be inside, like for you. Sorry."

Finally, Dream turned to her, looking surprised and solemn. He stared at her for a long time, before taking a deep breath.

"I see. So you made several mistakes, indeed."

"Dream..."

"You listened to the Corinthian, a nightmare."

"I know."

"You thought it would be good for you to keep your emotions inside, like me. Knowing that my emotions are never really inside, but entirely outside, in the Dreaming, while you should keep your storms in your little heart."

"I get it, I..."

"And you believed that I would like you to deprive me of your smile. Of your laughter. That you hide your sadness from me, which I could erase with kisses. Your anger, which I could appease with poems. Your love, which I carry in my chest. All this to make me happy ?"

So Morpheus did something that Y/N hadn't imagined.

He laughed.

And like he said, his laugh was a little scary. Inhuman. A sound that mortals weren't supposed to hear, that no one was supposed to hear. But he was laughing, and he was smiling, and he came over to kiss her, and Y/N thought she liked that sound a lot.

"My love, your emotions, all your emotions, are my joy. Do not hide them from me."

"Okay. But promise me you'll tell me when it's rainy, and why."

"Very well."

"And I was right, your laugh is very sweet."

"Yeah, I guess love makes you blind and deaf."

"Matthew. Leave us."

"Yes, boss. Glad it's not raining anymore."

Indeed, the sun had returned as he spoke, a bright sun, and even if the weather could never be perfect, like their relationship, Y/N would do everything to make Morpheus as bright as possible.

#The Sandman #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus fanfiction

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thefallennightmare · 4 months

Text

Just Pretend-nineteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: I realized today that Sarah and I have been working on this story for almost TWO MONTHS. Holy shit. Talk about a slow burn! I don't think it's ever taken me this long to write an active story. Also, there are a few sentences in Greek and Italian in this chapter. You can find the translations at the end of the chapter.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic

NOAH

My knee bounced in a tangent along with the clock on the wall behind Dr. Poulos as she tilted her head towards me, waiting for my answer.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” I blinked slowly.

She gave me a small smile, tapping her pen on her notebook; something I’ve realized she did when she was ready to ask me a hard-hitting question.

“How have the panic attacks been?” Dr. Poulos wondered.

“Uh,” I rubbed my jaw. “It’s been better, I suppose. I still feel them starting every once in a while but my friends have been great at helping me through them.”

“That’s great,” she smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it was a problem for you from our first session.”

“Yeah, I’ve come to realize there were a few aspects of my life that hindered me more than helped me.”

Dr. Poulos’ brows raised. “Like what?”

“Up until recently, I would drink; a lot. And smoke weed every so often. People say it’s the lesser of the drugs but it affected me in such a way that I didn’t like the man I saw in the mirror. Same with the alcohol. So, I’ve decided to become sober.”

That spread a wider smile on her face. “I’m proud of you, Noah. It’s not an easy thing to overcome but to see how determined you are makes me very happy.”

I ran my hands over my thighs while standing up straighter on the couch; her positive praise made my heart beat a bit faster.

“I just want to be the healthiest I can be. Your body is a temple, ya know? It’s only been a few weeks but I can already tell a difference in the way I sing.”

“That’s exceptional, Noah. I’m happy to hear that. It’ll help the course of your life. But I must ask, do you feel it’ll leave a part of you open and willing to accept the love you think you deserve?”

I pursed my lips. “What do you mean?”

“Well, as you mentioned previously, it sounds like Y/N has had some complicated relations with a man who was in a state of addiction. Do you feel that maybe, a part of your being sober can help you leave that part finally open? Allow you to see that you can be loved.”

When I remained silent, letting her words rest in my mind, Dr. Poulos shut her notebook and set it on the table between us; next to one of those sand zen garden things.

“What you're doing with Bailey and hiding your true feelings for Y/N doesn't seem to be helping, right?”

I shook my head with a long sigh. “I never meant for things to go this far.”

Dr. Poulos leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, stippling her fingers.

“Has Y/N ever given you a reason to doubt the things you say to her?”

“No. Never,” I answered without missing a beat.

“Then what’s stopping you from telling her how you feel?” She brushed a strand of brown-graying hair from her eyes.

With Dr. Poulos’ words replaying in my mind, I sat down on the steps of her office while clicking on Bailey’s contact name on my phone. As it rang, I tapped my fingers on my knee to drum a random beat.

“Hey, it’s Bailey. Leave me a message!’

Cursing to myself, I wished that she had answered because I didn’t want to do this with her voicemail but I had no other option. This needed to be done.

“Bailey, it’s me- Noah,” I sighed while pinching my eyes shut. “Listen, I didn’t want to do this over text or on your voicemail. But I thought it best you hear me say this. I wanted to discuss it with you the other day but shit came up.”

My eyes watched as a few people walked past on the sidewalk in front of me.

“Look, I never wanted to hurt you, you’re a nice girl but this-us-isn’t working for me. I’m-I’m sorry if this hurts you. Truly. I’m not good at words all the time but I will say that I wish you the best and I hope you have a nice life.”

After hanging up, I could physically feel the weight lift off my shoulders and heart. Breathing was easier and lighter, so with this newfound feeling, I quickly dialed Y/N’s number.

“Mochi!”

I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Hi, angel. Are you busy?” I asked while rising from the steps to walk a few steps to my car that was parked in the street.

“I’m walking into an appointment right now. Can I call you later?”

Ignoring the way my heart dropped, I started my car and sat there for a moment.

“Of course. I’ll be in the studio but I’ll always answer for you.” My hand ran over the steering wheel.

“So sweet,” Y/N chuckled and my stomach fluttered. “There’s a reason why I gave you that nickname.”

We quickly said our goodbyes and my mind was filled with the heavy conversation I needed to have with Y/N. I didn’t even realize the familiar figure bounding up the steps of the same office I left mere minutes ago, her yellow sundress flowing in the wind.

READER

My eyes were trained on the small sand zen garden on Dr. Poulos’ table as she tapped her pen against the notebook in her lap. The clock ticked annoyingly loudly behind her, almost mocking me as I continued to leave her question unanswered.

“Y/N,” Dr. Poulos’s voice was firm, breaking me from my trance. “You mentioned your mother contacted you the other day?”

I played with the hem of my yellow sundress. “Uh, yeah. She doesn't do it often but when she does, she really lets her feelings known.”

“And what are those feelings?”

“The same bullshit. My mom doesn’t agree with the lifestyle I’ve chosen. She thinks it's a waste of time,” I shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s who she is. Being Greek, I was raised to have large but realistic dreams. My father on the other hand wanted and still wants me to follow my heart, he wants me to go after what I want, what I need. There’s a line between both of them.”

“You know,” Dr. Poulos tucked a strand of her brown-graying hair behind her ear. “There’s a study that says insecure attachment styles can develop as a result of poor parenting. Research indicates that attachment in childhood affects the development of familial, social, and romantic relationships later in life. Do you feel this has deeply affected or influenced your relationships?

I pursed my lips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve had a pattern of falling for men who aren't good for you yet believing they are real love when you know subconsciously you deserve better.”

“Maybe,” the word trailed off my lips, uncertainty weighing heavy on my heart.

Dr. Poulos hummed, crossing one leg over the other. “It sounds that way, doesn’t it? Are you running from Noah because you’re afraid you’ll disappoint him? Afraid he’ll do what your mother often does? You’ve seen the way your parent's marriage was like growing up, that has to be a hindering factor, doesn't it?

My jaw ticked. “My mother was unfair to my father. I’d never do that or treat anyone that way.”

“I know you won’t, Y/N. You know it yourself, deep down in your heart,” she patted a hand over her own heart. “Because from what you told me about Noah, I don’t believe that he would act the way your mother has. You won’t disappoint him. And he doesn’t want to do that to you either.”

I shook my head widely. “He’s with someone else so it doesn't even matter.”

A small smile lifted at the corner of her lips. “Quite the contrary, Y/N. You said it earlier you wanted to tell him the truth. He isn’t your mother and again, from what you’ve told me it sounds like you both may want the same things. You’re just not trusting yourself. You’re relying on your trauma and issues with your mother to get in the way.”

“Wow, nice observation,” I snorted. “How am I supposed to fix that?”

Dr. Poulos ignored my snarky attitude. “If your mother has been unreliable, then you may need to lean on other people who are for support. Socializing with friends and learning to be vulnerable with others can help increase emotional connection.”

“Malcolm and Chase are reliable,” I stated.

“It sounds like it, from what you’ve told me,” she nodded. “There’s also Noah. His support can take some time to develop but having stable relationships with others can be part of healing. And most of all, self-care.”

I left therapy with a hopeful heart and bright smile. Dr. Poulos always knew what I needed to hear as much as I tried to fight it. Peaking down at my phone, my pulse quickened when I noticed a missed text from Noah.

Mochi 🍡: New episode of Attack on Titan dropped. I can pick up lunch. Your place or mine?

Giggling, I typed out my response, not letting anything ruin this euphoric high I felt.

NOAH

I stood outside Y/N’s front door, shaking out the nerves, and knocked on it. I had a bag of take-out food in my hand, something she requested from her favorite burrito place.

“Hi,” she smiled while letting me in. “Did you remember the Dr. Pepper?”

I chuckled while holding up the cup. “Light ice.”

As we set out the food on the table in their dining room, I motioned towards the various easels and splattered pain on the carpet. “Studio?”

“Yeah,” Y/N gave a sheepish smile. The lighting in here is better than my bedroom; although not by much.”

I took in the various paintings of abstract lines and colors, some of random landscapes, and one of Salem.

“These are really good, angel.”

“I’m glad I decided to do this. Painting has been a great way to escape from reality, even for a little bit,” she took a bite of her burrito. “Oh, extra guac? How’d you know?”

I shrugged. “I just do.”

We ate in silence for the next few long moments and as much as I tried to quiet the loud voices in my mind that screamed at me to tell Y/N the truth right now, it was extremely difficult.

My eyes took in the glimmer of her bracelet as she reached for the chips and I couldn't stop the smile that spread wide to my lips. Y/N was still wearing the jewelry I bought her and it made me feel proud.

“Where’s Chase and Malcolm?” I asked, noticing the quiet.

Y/N took a large drink of her soda, reveling in the taste. “Hiking. They left earlier this morning and typically don’t come back till later. So I have the place to myself.”

Just as I was about to speak, a persistent knock sounded on the front door, and she turned towards it with a confused stare.

“Expecting anyone?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Probably someone selling Girl Scout cookies.”

“If they have Thin Mints, I’ll take four boxes,” I called after Y/N.

Her laugh echoed throughout the room but soon seized when she opened the door. I noticed the way her body went rigid and I slowly rose in time to see a tall but petite brunette all but push her way inside.

“Hi, koukla. I would have texted or called but it seems like you have an issue with checking your phone,” the lady peered around the space, a sour look on her lips.

“Mo-mom? What are you doing here?”

Shit.

I knew there was a history with Y/N’s mom but never knew how deep it ran.

“I was in town and thought to surprise you. Since you never talk to me anymore,” her mom tsked.

Finally, her eyes landed on me, standing in the threshold of the living room and dining room; gaze hardening.

“Who’s this?” She asked Y/N.

Internally I snorted at how she asked Y/N rather than asking me.

“I’m Noah,” I introduced myself while brushing away the strands from my face.

Her mom hummed before nodding towards the back end of the house. “Give me and my daughter some privacy.”

“Mom!” Y/N seethed.

Noticing how the tension shifted, I gave Y/N a soft smile. “It’s alright. I’ll go say hi to Salem.”

With my back to them, I walked down the hall and heard her mom mutter something in Greek.

“Giatí échei makriá malliá?”

“Eísai apísteftos,” Y/N responded in a stern voice.

Sitting in the Y/N’s bedroom with Salem perched on my lap, I left the door wide open so I could listen in on the conversation. It may have been wrong to eavesdrop but something deep inside of me told me to be on edge, just in case.

“You should have called, Mom,” Y/N said.

“You never return my calls.”

“Gee, I wonder why. You exactly haven’t been that peachy the last few times we’ve talked.” I could hear the slight edge in Y/N’s voice.

“I thought I’d told you I don’t appreciate the way you speak to me.”

“It’s a two-way street, Mom. You get what you give.”

Salem purred loudly in my lap and I continued to scratch him in the spot I knew he loved; between his ears.

“I’ve always hated when your father used that line,” her mother sighed.

Someone was pacing, their footsteps echoing loudly down the hall, and I peered down at Salem.

“Your mom seems pretty upset right now,” I frowned at the feline.

His bright green eyes stared back at me, simply demanding one thing silently; more pets to which I obliged.

“Have you been to the doctor lately?”

“Since when do you care, Mom? You never ask how I’m doing.”

Salem jumped off of me when I slowly rose to my feet, deciding that I needed to be closer to Y/N, just in case.

“I know how bad Endometriosis affects you, Y/N. I’m simply wondering.”

I could almost hear Y/N roll her eyes as I neared the end of the hallway, out of sight but could still see just enough. Y/N stood with her hands on her hips while her mom sat comfortably on the couch.

“I’m fine.” Y/N kept her answers short.

Her mother pursed her lips. “And how’s the career?”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at the way she said career.

Y/N snorted. “Please, like you give a shit.”

“Watch your language!”

“You’ve never supported me with my music. Hell, with any of my dreams. So don’t start acting like you give a shit now.

Her mom rose to her feet, narrowing her gaze. “That’s not true. I only want what’s best for you, Y/N. You don’t want to end up like your father and be stuck.”

“He wasn’t stuck,” Y/N scoffed while clenching her fists.

Her mother clicked her tongue while brushing away Y/N’s hair from her face. “Yes, sweetie, he was. And I’m telling you, no man will want to deal with someone that’s always on the road. What man is going to wait around or understand this lifestyle? What future are you gonna have?”

My jaw clenched at hearing those words because I knew it wasn’t true. There was a man who wanted Y/N; me. I would wait for years if I had to. Whenever she was ready, I’d be here.

But hearing how her mom talked to her made me realize that there was a reason why Y/N never spoke of her and why she was so apprehensive of any future relationship.

“We’re not talking about this,” Y/N stepped away from her mom to stand on the other end of the couch, giving more space between them.

“Once again, you’re avoiding a tough subject. I didn’t raise you this way,” her mother chastised.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Raised me? Are you fucking kidding me? You barely were home, too busy focusing on your career leaving Dad home to raise me!”

I smirked at hearing Y/N mock her mother in how she said career moments before.

“Your father was always your favorite. But it was me you stayed with after the divorce!” Her mother's voice was raised.

Fearing this would end in such a bad way, I pulled my phone to send a text to Chase.

Me: Y/N’s mom is here and I’m afraid shit is about to hit the fan. What should I do?

His response came almost immediately.

Chase: Fuck. Whatever you do, Noah. Don’t leave. Stay until we get there. Every time her mom either contacts her or shows up, Y/N goes into a dark place. Malcolm and I are leaving right now and should be back in an hour.

I swallowed thickly as my stomach dropped. If the guys were worried about Y/N’s mom being here, it could only mean one thing.

Disaster.

“I stayed with you because you made me feel guilty!” Y/N choked on a sob. “For years I wondered why I didn’t feel a connection with you so I thought staying with you would bring us closer. But instead, you dropped the you’re adopted bomb on me; on my birthday!”

Her mother had the audacity to shrug.

“You probably would have found out eventually. I simply sped up the process.”

Y/N shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Because I tell the truth? You think people are going to stay with you with the lifestyle you’ve chosen?”

“Oh, gods, we’re back on this again?” Y/N ran a hand through her hair. “I have a lot of people that support me.”

“Who? Your friend?” Her mom pointed a firm finger towards the hallway where I was still hiding around the corner. “Do you think he is going to wait around?”

For years if I have to.

“No. No one will, Y/N. You’re like your father with these pipe dreams.”

“Pipe dreams? I didn’t realize wanting a family was a pipe dream,” Y/N spat.

Her mother gave her a somber smile, clicking her teeth. “Kouklamou, I thought we talked about this. You can’t have a family, not the traditional way anyway. You need to realize that no man is going to want to go through all that trouble to have a child. It’s not worth it.”

Y/N and I both flinched at the same time, those words almost verbatim with what Trey used to say to her. There I stood, my fists clenched by my sides, I rolled my shoulders back, glaring towards the petite brunette with dark eyes.

I was feeling triggered while I observed this entire thing; it felt intrusive at first but now feels like I’m behind fifty feet of glass.

It made sense now, why this loving bond between Y/N and I was inaccessible. In this mode, I had to take great care not to damage these bonds of love, this relationship, this friendship, and this woman in front of me, who very early on became everything to my heart and soul. For in time, the glass disappeared and my love returned stronger.

I understood.

From my corner, I could see how the kitchen table had seen every emotion, from the sweet silent happiness of family times, when the only sound is contented enjoyment, to the rage that bursts out in the hard times; I understood.

I refused to stand there and let it sour, not to her. Never to her.

Sobs played like a sad tune and I noticed Y/N was crying, hastily whipping away the tears.

“I can’t believe I continue to let you in my life, knowing how you’ll treat me. Girls are supposed to look up to their mothers as idols, to learn from them how to be mothers. But you’ve shown me how not to treat my kids in the future.”

“We’ve talked about this, Y/N. The chances of you becoming a mother are not in the cards for you. Neither is this musical career. You need to face reality.”

Fuck this.

As I stepped into view of them, Y/N pointed to the front door. “I don’t need you to come in here and tell me how to run my life, I’m done with this.”

“Y/n-.”

“You heard her,” I spoke while standing next to Y/N, immediately wrapping my arm around her shoulder to pull her into my chest.

My heart broke at how quickly she grasped onto my shirt, not wanting me to let her go.

“Excuse me? This is a private matter between my daughter and me. This doesn't concern you,” her mom’s eyes sliced into me.

“It does. Because it’s Y/N.”

Her mom’s gaze bounced between the two of us, almost waiting for Y/N to object to my words, but instead, she stood firm, sniffing away her tears.

“You need to leave.”

With one final glare, Y/N’s mom snatched her purse off the couch while muttering something Greek under her breath before she slammed the door behind her; all the negative energy leaving in waves.

“Y/N,” I tried to make her look at me but she kept her head cast down.

“I can’t, Noah,” she cried.

I lifted her chin with a firm finger and sucked in a breath as broken, bloodshot eyes stared back at me.

“Don’t ever hide from me, angel. You know that.”

Y/N kept her gaze firm on my face. “She does this every time. I don’t know why I continue to let her. I’m just a girl who wants her mother's love, is that so wrong?”

“Angel,” I murmured while pulling her into my embrace, brushing a kiss across her forehead.

NOAH

My fingers drummed against the marble counter in front of me while Davis set out various ingredients. We were currently streaming the two of us cooking BLTs, something for the fans to enjoy and watch. I was reading some of the comments, smiling at a few then cringing at some others.

Davis handed me a block of cheese. “Cut this up for me, would ya?”

With it in one hand, I playfully spit on my hand before giving it a nice smack.

“Hm, imagining that someone's ass?” He smirked under his breath.

I gave him a light shove. “Fuck off.”

We spent the next long while goofing off and having fun for the stream. It was nice to let my mind focus on something else besides Y/N and her mom. I spent the rest of the night at her place, holding her in my arms as she cried herself to sleep. The familiar scent of her lingered on me as I tucked her softly in her bed. Before I walked out of her house, I ran into Chase and Malcolm, whose parting words stuck with me all day.

“She needs you more than she’ll admit. It may not seem like it but she does.”

Y/N texted me this morning to thank me for being there for her and say that if she went M.I.A for a while today, it’s only because Hollow Souls were in the studio recording. I didn't ask how she was feeling after the surprise visit from her mom. Y/N would tell me, if she wanted to, when she was ready.

“Alright, let’s read some comments,” Davis suggested as we finished up the cook-off; me winning.

He held Max in his hands, every so often giving him kisses. As I read a few comments out loud and responded, the dog practically begged me for attention when a familiar username appeared on the screen.

Y/NHollowSouls: Noah Sebastian, I swear to Hades himself. You kiss Max right now or I’ll come over there and kick your ass.

I laughed while shaking my head. “Alright, Max. Come here! Let me give you some love.”

I scratched the dog's ear while leaving a soft kiss on his nose then looked back to the computer screen to see Y/N leave another comment.

Y/NHollowSouls: Good, that’s better. Now I need to taste this famous BLT that won.

“Then get your ass over here. Bring some coconut water because Noah drank the last one,” Davis said once he read the comment.

My heart began to beat widely in my chest at the thought of seeing Y/N again.

Y/NHollowSouls: fuck yes. Noah, have that sandwich ready for me.

We ended the stream shortly after that but my eyes lingered on the black screen for a long moment. Davis immediately picked up on my quiet mood and knocked on the countertop.

“Noah?”

My name was white noise, still staring at zoning out in front of me.

“Earth to Noah! Come in Herc! Come in Herc!”

“What?” My eyes snapped over to Davis, finally breaking out of my trance.

“What I thought.” He smirks before getting serious. “Are you alright?”

I gave a weak smile towards Davis. “Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He motioned towards the laptop. “I know you’re not actually fine right now but-.”

I ran a hand over my face, doing my best to keep my breathing calm and even. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It just fucking hurts.”

Davis shifted on his feet, hesitation clear on his face. “Why? No disrespect to Y/N at all, you know I love her-we all do. But why did you choose to stay in touch? After all the hurt you’ve gone through.”

My vision was direct with his. “Because I’d rather have her from afar to make sure she’s alright than to not have her in my life at all. Besides, she’s going through a lot of shit, something no one should go through alone. I won’t let her.”

A grin spread across his face and he nodded. “I knew it. I just wanted to hear you admit it. But you need to end this shit with Bailey.”

“I already did.”

“Fuck,” Davis’ eyes widened. “Finally. How did she take it?”

I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. “That’s the thing, she didn’t answer. I left her a voicemail.”

“A voicemail? Damn, do you think she got the message?” Davis wondered while be began cleaning up the mess.

I, instead, began making another sandwich for Y/N, knowing she’d be here soon. “I fucking hope so. If not, then she’s probably testing me to see if I’d change my mind.”

“But you won't, right?”

I snorted. “Fat chance.”

Davis turned towards me, drying his hands on a towel. “So you broke up with Bailey. What’s the next step with Y/N?”

“I need to talk to her first. There’s a lot we need to talk about,” I said while pulling out a cold can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge.

“Hey, that’s the last one,” he exclaimed.

I merely shrugged while setting a place at the kitchen table for Y/N. “It’s for Y/N.”

Davis, as much as he tried to be upset, chuckled. “In all seriousness, Noah, you know we’re here to support you. We have your back.”

I smiled at one of my best friends. “I know.”

Just then a knock sounded on the front door and before Davis could answer it, I quickly closed the short distance and opened it with a smile; only for it to drop seeing Y/N standing on the other side with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” I questioned while allowing her to step inside and led her to Davis’ kitchen.

“Chase’s birthday is on Friday and the venue I booked for it just canceled on me. Something about a pipe bursting and the room is flooded,” she exasperated while falling into the chair at the table.

“What are you going to do?” I questioned while sitting across from her.

Davis joined us at the table, taking the coconut water from Y/N with a small smile.

“Thankfully since they have to cancel, I get my deposit back but Malcolm is freaking out,” she waved her phone around. “We have two days to figure out somewhere new for this surprise party.”

“You can have it at my place,” I suggested.

Y/N took a long drink of her soda. “Are you sure? Don’t you think you should talk with the rest of the guys first?”

I snatched a chip off her plate and shrugged. “They won’t mind.”

“Sei un tesoro, mochi,” she patted my cheek.

Davis choked on his drink and my eyes snapped over to him. “I don’t want to hear it!”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Y/N smirked before taking the first bite of her sandwich and groaned. “Oh shit, this is good. No wonder you won, Noah.”

With a prideful smirk, I motioned to the rest of her plate. “Finish up. I’ll call the guys and have them meet here and we can plan Chase’s party.”

At one point, Davis left to take Max for a walk, leaving Y/N and I alone. We sat silently and enjoyed the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seemed only the old could sit next to one another, not say anything, and still feel content. The young, brash, and impatient, must always break the silence. It’s a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox.

“Oh, I never noticed the great view Davis has,” Y/N mused while pushing away her empty plate.

Realizing it was almost time for the sun to set, I quickly cleaned up for her and motioned towards the back door.

“Let’s go sit outside for a bit, yeah?” I suggested.

READER

Noah and I sat comfortably on the patio bench, a blanket draped over both of our legs as we stared out at the vast greens of Davis’ backyard. The sky was painted in bright oranges with hints of pink and purple. Silently, I thought to myself that I should have brought my art supplies, noting this would be a beautiful experience to paint.

The silence between Noah and I was comforting, something you don’t find all that often. People always needed to talk rather than just listen to the world around them. The way the birds chirped, the faint noises of evening traffic, or the sound of the wind as it blew a chilly breeze.

“Angel?”

I hummed while looking over towards Noah.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is there-I don’t know-anything you really want besides music right now?”

“I want a studio, with giant canvas’, paint; just an art studio galore! I’ve gotten into the hobby and love it,” I answered with a bright smile. “I was even thinking of using some of my art for the album artwork. Just playing with ideas.”

Noah’s smile matched mine as he let his hair loose from the hair tie, letting it fall to his shoulders in waves. “I love that you found something else you’re so passionate about, angel.”

“I love painting. I really do,” I leaned farther back against the couch and rested my head against it.

“So paint. You should do whatever your heart desires, Y/N.”

“Thank you, mochi” I nudged him.

Noah rested his head against the couch, inches away from mine as another thought came to mind.

“You know,” I started with a long sigh. “When I was a kid, I would have given anything to be exactly like everybody else”

“You wanted to be petty and dishonest?“ He joked.

“Not everyone is like that,” I defended with a shake of my head.

“Yes they are,” Noah retorted back. “But not you. You’re not like that.”

This had me sitting up straighter, Noah following me. “How do you know what I’m like?”

“I see you,” He shifted closer to me, hand brushing across my knee over the blanket. “I’ve seen you for a long time. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met”.

My heart beat widely in my chest, the noise deafening in my ears and I cleared my throat.

“I think you are too. If I’m being honest, I think I’ve always sorta known that,” I admitted.

“You know,” Noah’s hand rested on my knee. “With me bouncing between homes and couches growing up, I always thought I’d be alone. I’d never expected to have such an amazing group of friends.”

“Sometimes maybe it’s better to be alone,” I shrugged while looking past his shoulder to an older couple watching in the neighborhood.

“Why do you say that?”

I still kept my gaze off Noah, voice dropping low. “Nobody can hurt you.”

“Y/N,” Noah sighed and lifted my chin so I could meet his intense gaze. “I would never, ever hurt you.”

Those eyes. I’ve dreamed of those eyes almost every night since our first meeting so long ago. I won’t say I’m in love, not out loud, but I am. I came to terms with that a while ago.

“I know, mochi,” I finally whispered.

Noah’s thumb traced over my jawline. “I understand why it’s hard for you, Y/N. But know that when I’m with you, I don’t feel alone.”

That magnetic pull that always seemed to connect us with that invisible string made me lean closer to him needing his warmth to envelop me.

“I’ve never had this instant connection with anyone. I know you understand it too,” he continued.

With my continued silence, Noah sat up straighter but kept his grip on my chin. “Are you freaked out? Because not hearing you say anything kind of-.”

“Noah- no,” I rested my hands on his chest. “I feel it too.”

His hand grasped the back of my neck now, tilting my head up towards him, as we began to lead in closer, and when his warm breath fanned over my lips, I let my eyes flutter shut.

“Hey guys-oh shit.”

Quickly pushing away from Noah, I peered over my shoulder to see Malcolm leaning against the back door.

“We’re all inside ready to talk about the party. Whenever you two decide to grace us,” Malcolm winked before slipping back inside.

Clearing my throat, I let the realization sink in what Noah and I were about to do. He’s with Bailey and I was ready to kiss him. I’m not this kind of person but yet here I was again being caught between him and my conscious. Bailey, as intrusive as she was, didn’t deserve this.

Noah tried to bring me back to him but I quickly stood up, giving us more space.

“We can’t do this. Not again,” my hair shook widely around my shoulders. “It’s not fair to Bailey.”

“I ended it.”

I blinked. “Wha-Oh? You did?”

As ecstatic as I was hearing this, I did my best to hide it. I didn’t want Noah to know inside I was jumping for fucking joy; like a kid on Christmas that received the toy they’d been wanting.

Noah stood from the couch now, standing in front of me. “I think Bailey saw me as Noah on the big screen, not me the person and after everything at that dinner I just knew it was time.”

“I’m-I’m sorry,” I stammered, not knowing what else to say.

His brows furrowed. “Why? It wasn’t serious. There wasn’t that connection; like the one we have.”

As my lips parted, it was Jesse now who interrupted us, taking a bite of the apple in his hand. “Are you guys coming or what?”

Noah cursed while running a hand through his hair and I shakily pointed over his shoulder.

“We should head inside. Talk about this party.”

Not wanting to spend another second out here, afraid to finally give in to the thoughts that were screaming at me, I gently brushed past him to return inside.

GREEK TRANSLATIONS:

Koukla-doll

Kouklamou- my doll

“Giatí échei makriá malliá?”- Why does he have long hair?

"Eísai apísteftos"-you're unbelievable

ITALIAN TRANSLATIONS:

Sei un tesoro-you're a sweetheart.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 9 months

Text

Nimona headcanons plus a little bonus at the end

Whenever the trio gets home it's like a switch is flipped off inside their brains and all they want to do is be lazy and relax

They’ve got very busy and stressful lives and a pretty small home so it’s not uncommon for them to yell when they’re asking a question instead of just getting up

And if they can’t hear each other they’ll just call the other person

One time Ambrosius was yelling asking them what wanted for dinner and was interrupted by Nimona calling him

He answered the phone and all they said was “What’d you say I couldn't hear you” he didn’t even question it he just kept talking

Nimona brings dead animals home

I have this small headcanon that the first time she shifted into her human form was when she met Gloreth

So before that she was living mostly as different animals and she kind of learned their ways and those ways stuck with her

So there is a small part of her that sees Bal and Ambrosius as incompetent hunters (can you blame her)

The boys always thank her for her doing a good job and then they wait for her to leave the room before they freak out because MY GOD SHE BROUGHT A FUCKING DEAD RAT IN THE DAMN HOUSE

There have also been times when she’s brought live animals inside the house the trio spent half an hour trying to get a traumatized bird out of their living room

I just know for a fact that Bal has a crazy amount of brain damage

This man has used his head as a weapon and has been hit on the head more times than I can count

So I feel like he has a really hard time remembering the little details he gets really bad migraines and headaches pretty frequently his eyesight is absolute shit and he has to wear contacts or glasses and he gets really bad vertigo if he doesn’t take care of himself

This worries the shit out of Ambrosius and Nimona but there isn't much they can do except deal with the symptoms when they show up

So I was thinking about the fact that as far as we know Nimona never told Bal about what went down with Gloreth

But I know that the boys would try and heal the damage that Gloreths legacy left behind

And in the middle of everything Bal turned to Ambrosius and said “I just wish that fucking eyesore was gone”

He didn’t have to ask what he meant he knew it was the statue

So Ambrosius got to work trying to get it torn down

A lot of people including some distant relatives that he hasn’t heard from in years tried to argue that it was an important monument and that her story touched a lot of people

To which Ambrosius responded with “I’m her direct descendant if anyone gets to choose what happens to that statue it should be me”

It was a couple of months into Nimona’s return when the demolition was approved

The boys had asked him a while after he came back if it was something he wanted

And all he said was “As long as I get to help”

It was super therapeutic for both Nimona and Ambrosius

Like don’t get me wrong the damage she did to Nimona is still there

And Ambrosius will always have a complicated relationship with his lineage

But tearing down the “fucking eyesore” heals something inside them

It was supposed to be a month-long process but Nimona and Ambrosius kept going and it was completely gone after two weeks

When all was said and done they collapsed on the couch and went through just about every single emotion you can go through

A little bonus I made my mama watch Nimona with me and here are some of my favorite comments: Mind you when I first put the movie on this woman was acting like I was pulling teeth

“I like the queen she seems nice” (and then she freaked out when she died)

“So they’re nice to him 'cause he’s gold I would just steal the armor what does he have without that?” “Money Mama” “Ah”

“Why are they so mean to him he’s just a baby?” (talking about Bal)

“She’s just like you especially with those freaky eyes” (when Nimona met Bal)

“Oh, so she’s the rhino…. Makes sense”

“Awe she’s cute I can't hate her” (about Nimona again)

“Oh wait she isn’t cute that’s freaky” (when Nimona was the demon baby)

“That’s like you and your sister” (Bal and Nimona interrogating the squire)

“Hey, mama is arm chopping a love language?” “I’m worried that you would even ask me that”

“Oh he’s got issues huh?” (after Ambrosius’ internal freak out)

“Can he die a little quieter… and faster” (after the Director stabbed “Ambrosius”)

“Oh fuck that little blond girl”

We had to pause the movie right before Nimona started her rampage because we were getting tired and I woke up to her in front of the tv with it pulled up on Netflix and she turned to me and said “Can we finish it already?”

“If she sacrificed herself I will never forgive you”

“Do you watch anything with straight people?” “Mama you literally ship them” “That's not an answer” (this is right after Bal and Ambrosius kissed)

“Is there a next part?..... so when’s the next one coming out?”

Once the movie was over I told her some people thought Ambrosius and Bal were related and she looked me dead in the eyes and said

“You’re joking. No you have no be kidding… He literally said it in the movie!” “Said what Mama?” “oh I love him so much and I lost him whatever will I do”

And then she kept making fun of Ambrosius for the next three minutes

I asked her who her favorite was and she said Nimona I go “aweee you love me” she looks me dead in my eyes and says “don’t make it awkward”

#nimona 2023 #Nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #I love my mama so much #this woman is so judgy #watching the movie with her was hilarious #she bullies Ambrosius the whole time so I know she loves him

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thedreamlessnights · 5 months

Text

Someone to shed some light - pt. 5

Astarion x gn!reader (NSFW)

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: You and Astarion come across the camp, and its discovery adds a complication to the mix. The two of you share an intimate night together.

Warnings: 18+ - Blood drinking, mentions of past abuse. Explicit sexual content. Penetrative sex, fingering, first time sex.

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: As you can see, this chapter is an eventful one. I hope you'll all enjoy! This story is going to get wild, and we're going to start seeing some new (and perhaps familiar) faces 👀 Also, thank you so much to @aerynwrites for making the amazing header image and for looking over this chapter! I appreciate you so much ♥

The thick, awkward silence in the air follows you all the way to the stream - tailing along with you like it’s your shadow.

You’ve never been more grateful to see a body of water in your entire life, and it’s not due to the thirst slowly building in your mouth, or the grime on your skin itching to be cleaned off. It’s because you’re dying to do something that isn’t walking, dying to curb the silence, and dying to think of anything that isn’t Cazador.

How long have the two of you been traveling, now? How long since you’d come across Gandrel? The trees have been too dense to tell the time with any accuracy, but there’s a break of them over the water, and the sun is mid-sky when you glance at its position.

Hours, maybe.

Hours of thinking up a thousand different conversation topics. Trying to find something to fill the deadening quiet. None of them seemed appropriate, though; not in the aftermath of finding out that an evil vampire had enslaved Astarion for two centuries and is now relentlessly hunting him. What could you possibly say after that?

Nothing, you’d eventually decided. You’d say nothing. But that hadn’t made any of it any better.

The camp shouldn’t be far, now. But that can wait.

You sink to your knees on the bank, taking a handful of the mercifully cool water and splashing it over your face. It’s sweet when you bring it to your lips, blissful on your burning-hot skin, and you can’t help letting out a sigh of relief.

“I can’t wait to get out of these woods,” you say softly, more for yourself.

“They were your idea, my sweet,” Astarion replies, somewhere behind you.

“Freedom was my idea,” you combat defensively. “The woods just happened to be a temporary part of that.”

“If you’re planning to run from my mother, then it certainly won’t be temporary,” Astarion says. “I’d become very, very friendly with the woods if I were you.”

You drop your hands, shaking away the remaining water as you try - and fail - to bite away your frustration. “Why can’t she leave me alone? All I want is to go back to my home.”

“And I want to wake every morning with a virgin at my side,” he snipes, every word laced with melodramatic condescension, “but life doesn’t give us what we want.”

This time, your anger cuts through your chest like a knife as you shift to face him. “Well!” you exclaim. “Congratulations then, Astarion, because you do!”

He freezes, a glint in his eye, and you know you’ve made a grave error. “Do I, now?” he purrs. “Interesting.”

You ignore him, turning back to the stream, but your cheeks go hot. “Well?” you finally say. “Are you going to get cleaned up or not?”

To your surprise, he doesn’t respond.

You glance at him and find him staring at the water like it’s a poisonous bog. “Oh, come now, Your Highness. Don’t tell me the stream isn’t good enough for you?”

He scowls at you, but his gaze is quick to flit back to the stream as he speaks. “Running water used to burn like acid, dearest. I’ve never tested if it still does.”

Your mouth snaps shut. No more teasing him, you resolve. It’s only making you look like a complete ass. “Oh,” you finally say.

Astarion sinks down into a squat, hesitantly dipping his fingers into the water and giving a hum. “Well. I suppose that answers that question,” he says, shifting onto his knees.

He’s just as dirty as you feel. Gandrel’s blood is splattered all over him, and the grime of the woods has etched streaks of dirt onto his skin. Somehow, despite all of that, he’s still as beautiful as always. Maybe even more so, like this.

You feel a strange sense of disappointment when he starts rinsing the mess away.

It’s blazing hot out. It was easier to ignore earlier when you were under the shade, but the light is in full effect over the stream, and it’s unavoidable, now. You’re covered in sweat and dirt and the gods know what else. The itch to get clean is maddening.

At first, you try splashing water onto your skin and your filthy shirt, but all it ends up doing is drenching yourself - not cleaning anything at all. You’re left dirty, wet, and frustrated, and, well. Who knows when the next bathing spot will be. You’re already soaked…

You peel off your shoes and socks, get to your feet and take two steps back, then jump in.

The water is freezing cold, but it’s wonderful - euphoric under the pounding sun. It washes away the dirt and blood and sweat with ease, carrying them away as you kick around. The mild current feels like silk over your limbs. For a moment, you even float around on your back, enjoying the peaceful murmur of the water.

Then you remember that you aren’t alone, and you go upright. Astarion is watching you with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, distracted from his task. As soon as he sees you looking, he instantly goes back to trying to clean the stains out of his shirt - which is going about as well for him as it had been for you.

You watch his struggle for a moment before a string of words leave your lips. Words that wouldn’t have come out if you’d taken the time to think about it.

“You should join me!”

He glances at the water. It’s completely clear and a beautiful blue, but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. “Darling,” he says, letting out a haughty laugh, “you want me to jump in there? Only the gods know what’s in that water.”

“You’re using it to clean your shirt,” you point out, “which isn’t going very well, Your Highness. It’ll be the closest thing to a bath for miles.”

He simply scowls in response, and you shake your head.

“Alright,” you relent. “Stay up there in the heat, then, covered in blood and dirt. Just don’t start complaining to me when you start to feel dirty.”

His scowl deepens, but he gives up on the shirt and shifts until he’s sitting on the edge of the bank. “Fine,” he says sharply. He looks down and hesitates, tilting his head. Is he wondering how deep it is? If water used to burn, then he probably hasn’t gone swimming in…

Two centuries.

You let yourself stand, your toes sinking into the mud. The water isn’t much higher than your rib cage, and the crease between Astarion’s brows fades away. Following in your lead, he takes off his boots and socks, then lets himself slide into the water. He grimaces for a moment at the temperature, sinks under the surface, and comes up sopping, wiping water out of his eyes.

You almost feel bad, looking at that silvery mop of curls, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply pushes the mass of wet hair out of his face, then resumes his process of cleaning the blood out of his shirt. Or, trying to. It seems thoroughly fixed into the cream fabric.

For some reason, your attention on him feels like an invasion of a private moment, so you take to making sure you’re cleaned off, averting your gaze - especially when he takes off his shirt to scrub away the stains. The brief flash of porcelain skin you catch has your cheeks blooming with heat; it’s the most you’ve ever seen of him.

To distract yourself, you speak. “I’m surprised you actually got in.”

“Well,” he says. “Unfortunately, my warm baths have been conveniently misplaced. This will have to suffice.”

“Of course,” you mutter, paddling absentmindedly through the water. “For a moment there, I thought you might like something that’s remotely fun. My mistake.”

You’re still turned away, which is why the splash of water that hits you catches you by surprise. “Oh, you bastard,” you gasp, instantly sending another splash back at him.

He pauses, flashing you a wicked grin, and then you’re hit with another one, and another, and another. You’re splashing him back as much as you can and trying to swim away from the splash zone, and he’s splashing you, and you’re both breathless and calling taunts into the air. The sun is in your eyes, and water is in your lungs, and for a brief, blissful moment, it’s like all your worries have slipped away.

When the two of you are finally worn out, muscles aching, you push your way to the shore and lay on the grass, trying to catch your breath as your eyes flutter shut. The sun is golden and warm overhead, and with your now-drenched clothes, it feels wonderful.

A moment after you’ve gotten out, Astarion joins you. You hear the light thump of his wet shirt landing on the grass next to you, and then he’s sighing. “Gods - it’s hopeless,” he mutters. “Hopefully one of those Zhentarim knew something about fashion.”

His footsteps head back to his pack, but the feeling of warm sun on your skin is relaxing enough to keep you where you are as he digs around. When he stalls, you finally sit up, coughing some of the leftover water out of your lungs. Another joke is poised on your lips, but when you catch sight of his back, the words turn to ash on your tongue.

The soft pink lines seem like an intricate tattoo at first, but as your eyes continue to take it in, you realize that the skin is raised - far too much to ever be a tattoo. Scars. They’re scars.

You only see them for that brief moment before Astarion has found a new shirt and pulled it over himself, blocking out the sight of them, but even after they’re gone, the markings burn under your eyelids.

He turns to face you, and when he sees your face, the lightheartedness in his eyes immediately fades to something sharper. He knows you’ve seen.

“Your back,” you say softly. “It must have been painful.”

He looks away. “A gift from Cazador,” he says, his voice surprisingly soft. “A poem. He spent the night carving it into me.” He pauses, and pain flashes over his eyes. “He made a lot of adjustments as he went.”

You briefly think to yourself that - evil, powerful vampire or not - if you ever come face-to-face with Cazador Szarr, you’ll tear him to shreds with your bare hands.

Gods. You want to say that you’re sorry, but you already know Astarion won’t take it well. He clearly despises pity, and you’re not going to give it to him.

Instead, you get to your feet, ignoring the way your drenched clothes now stick to you, and head to your pack. “Why didn’t your mother kill him?”

He scoffs. “Believe me, she tried. Unfortunately, killing a vampire isn’t exactly easy. Rescuing me was the main priority, and, honestly? It was a miracle she even managed that.”

You nod, picking at a loose string on your sleeve. “Do you have any idea where he is now?”

“Baldur’s Gate, no doubt,” he replies stiffly. “In his ridiculous palace. He’s a Lord, you know.”

Ridiculous palace. It’s an ironic thing for him to say, but then you recall that Astarion probably doesn’t enjoy Erelin’s palace, either. Then, very much delayed, the reality of his words sinks in. “Hold on. You mean to say that there’s an evil vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate, and no one knows?”

“Oh, some do; they just don’t care,” he says, tilting his head. “You see - it’s all about power. He has a fair amount, and people will do anything to get even a taste of it. You should see his servants. They come to the door, begging for his eternal gift, and they’re stupid enough to think he’ll give it to them if they work hard enough.”

The concept of that is sickening. You fear nothing more than being thrown back into your personal prison, and here people are, volunteering to be in one - and one that’s far, far worse than yours, at that. All for what? Immortality? It doesn’t even remotely appeal to you.

From the look on his face, Astarion feels the same way.

Gods. You can’t even imagine what he’s experienced; not even half of it. Everything you’ve been through pales in drastic comparison to his two centuries of torture. Shame sweeps deep through your gut, dark and oozing, and it’s all you can do to not despise yourself.

Still - he complains about the petty things more than you do. And he hadn’t faulted you for wanting to run. He’d just told you not to bother, because you’d be caught.

“I don’t understand them,” you remark quietly, gathering up your things. “I can’t… imagine wanting something so much I’d give up my freedom for it.”

He shakes his head, and something reproachful paints itself into his expression. “Power is addictive, dearest. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

You sling your pack over your shoulder once more, and Astarion follows in your lead. “Well,” you say, “I suppose we’d better see what that camp is all about.”

You smell the camp before you see it.

The smoke you’d seen yesterday has faded in the air, but the smell of it is present: a distant, hazy odor that lingers in the forest. You and Astarion squat down to be safe, observing from behind the treeline, and it becomes immediately clear what it is.

Banners of silver and blue - those are Calthirian colors. This is your kingdom. What’s left of it, at least.

You’d been right. This rebellion is a prominent force, from the looks of it. No wonder Erelin had married you off instead of fighting. Still, it makes you wary to go waltzing straight into the place, expecting everything to turn out right. A level of paranoia lays over your skin like sweat, making it hard to think clearly. What if someone recognizes you? Do they know what you look like?

“Well,” Astarion remarks, “I suppose we’ve received our answer. And now that we have, we should be on our merry way.”

“Unfortunately,” you murmur in agreement. “You don’t think they’d give us directions to the nearest village?” It’s a long shot, and mostly a joke, but having traveled all this way to leave no better off is a sinking disappointment.

“They’d sooner recruit us,” Astarion answers. “Or kill us.”

You stare for a moment longer, then shake your head. “All right - new plan, then. We get the hells away from here. I’ll scale another tree and see if I can see anything.”

Astarion frowns, but doesn’t seem to have any better ideas. He follows silently as you creep through the woods, watching out for any nearby scouts.

You don’t like this place. It feels ominous, in a way.

Your breathing doesn’t return to normal until you’re a decent amount away, and you can’t help feeling like you’ve narrowly avoided something awful. Astarion stays on the ground while you climb another tree, and this time, the forest provides something very useful to you.

A city. Your city.

Baldur’s Gate, in all her glory, lies in the distance. It’ll take days, maybe even a week, to get there - but gods, is the sight of her a relief. Warm beds. Familiar faces. These days, there’s not many people you trust, but the ones you do are all in Baldur’s Gate. If you’re ever going to find any true escape, it’s there.

And, you think, your stomach sinking, there’ll be Ancunín outposts for Astarion to get back to his mother.

Astarion is pacing along the base of the tree when you hop down again, and his eyes brighten when he looks at you. “Gods. You saw something, didn’t you?”

“Baldur’s Gate,” you tell him, unable to mask the smile that spreads over your lips. “It’s a few days away, but it’s there.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Astarion sighs. “I couldn’t take much more of this.”

But you know what he’s really saying. He’ll finally get back to safety.

The two of you will have to have a talk sooner or later. You aren’t sure if he’s expecting you to return with him, and you’re not keen on arguing with him. You don’t want to leave him, but if it comes down to it - you can’t go back to Erelin.

Can’t, not won’t. It’s not even a choice. Every part of you rejects the suggestion like an unsuccessful transplant; every inch of you viscerally objects to returning to that palace. You’d bring him with you if you could, but you know that he’d never feel safe. Not while Cazador is out there, hunting for him.

The realization sombers the air as the two of you continue, skirting your way around the camp and in the direction of the city. You do a bit more hunting, and so does Astarion. Your food cooks in silence as the sun starts to set, and he seems to be lost in thought - just like you are.

When the crunch of a nearby branch sounds, the two of you leap two your feet without a second thought, reaching for your weapons. When you see who it is, your knife tumbles out of your hand.

“Cal?”

He looks more worn down than you’ve ever seen him, but it’s undeniably him. Chestnut hair. Grey eyes. A full, trim beard. He’s dressed in Calthirian colors, and his eyes widen in recognition as he stares at you, looking like he can’t believe you’re real.

“By the gods, is that really you?” he asks. “How? When? Last I heard, you’d returned to the queen’s palace - we’ve been trying to find a way to get you out, but - well, it doesn’t matter. You’re here! You’re really here!��

He glances behind you, and when he sees Astarion, he pauses. His eyes trail over the wedding rings you both wear, and the blood drains out of his face. “Oh no,” he says softly, taking a step back. His expression hardens, and his hand flits toward the sword at his belt. “No, no, no. Tell me that is not who I think it is.”

“Oh, him?” you say quickly. “This is Lirien. He helped me escape.”

“Of course it is,” Cal replies flatly. “Instead of Astarion Ancunín.” He shakes his head. “You think I can’t tell when you’re lying? I raised you! Gods - why? Why in the hells would you bring him? Do you have any idea what people will do when they find out?”

Astarion scowls. “I can hear you, you know,” he says.

Cal ignores him. “What am I going to tell them?” he mutters to himself, pacing, looking like he might topple over. “What am I going to do?”

“Nothing,” you say adamantly. “Cal? They’re not going to hear about it. Not about me, and not about him. Alright? We’re leaving.”

But Cal, instead of softening for you like he usually does, simply clenches his jaw. “You can’t be serious. This camp has been searching for a way to get you out for the last month,” he says. “We’ve lost… hundreds of men. They’re planning to mount a rescue mission for you, two days from now! Of course I’m going to tell them you’re here!”

“Well, I got myself out before they did,” you tell him, even though that isn’t really true. “And now, I’m going.”

Cal stares at you, incredulous. “What the hells did they do to you?” he asks. “Brainwashing? Torture?” He shakes his head in disbelief, then steps closer. “I won’t hide you. You were born to rule, understand? I raised you better than this.”

He mutters something under his breath before you can respond, and your and Astarion’s weapons fly toward him, falling neatly at his feet. You start forward, but Cal has snatched them up before you can make a grab for them. You have another knife in your bag, but - gods, do you really have it in you to kill him? Even now?

Before you can decide, he’s reciting another incantation. Warmth blooms on your skin, and something electric fills the air, hazing the air and tickling the inside of your lungs.

“What was that?” you ask, flinching at the sensation. “What did you do?”

“A tracking spell - over the both of you. It’ll tell us where you are even if you run. Don’t go trying anything. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”

This side of him is something you don’t know, not even a little, and it breaks you. Betrayal cuts through you like a knife, etching permanently into a sharp, painful spot between your ribs. Something sours on your tongue.

You’re a pawn. You always have been, even to him. Erelin had been bad enough, but this? Cal cares more about your position than he does you. It hurts so much that you think something in you might actually rip apart and spill out of your gut, seeping into the grass below.

You have to swallow down the nausea to speak, but the slime of this situation coats your throat and your words when you talk. “Wait until tomorrow,” you request. “Give me one more night away from them. Please.”

He sighs. “I don’t have much of a choice in that. Aris won’t be back until morning anyhow. Come on, you two - I’ll get you situated.”

He starts off toward the camp, but neither you nor Astarion follow after him. Your mind is flying over thoughts at a thousand miles per minute, trying to think of what to do. Gods, what in the hells are you going to do?

“If I have to get the guards to drag you, I will,” Cal calls. “You’ll spend the night in chains. Come willingly, and you’ll get a tent. It’s your choice.”

You start walking. Your hands are shaking like a leaf. You look to Astarion, whose expression has tightened, who looks even more pale than usual. He’s scared, and you are, too. You have no idea what the hells these people want from you. Cal may have taken your weapons, but there’s still the other knife in your bag. Astarion has his teeth, and there’s two of you…

Astarion meets your eyes curiously, and his gaze flits over to Cal, raising his brows. His intention is clear, and it's the same thing you’ve been thinking to yourself. After a moment of torturous internal debate, you nod.

What had you once thought to yourself? That you were willing to do anything for freedom? Gods. Apparently, you are.

You’re just bracing yourself for a fight when the flicker of torches passes through the trees, and you hear the chatter of voices. More men, and from the look of it, they’re all armed. “Cal, is that you?” one calls, lifting his torch higher in the approaching dark so he can see. “New recruits?”

All hope left in you dies at the sight of them. Astarion tenses at your side, his hands clenching into fists. Shit, you think. Shit, shit, shit. They’re going to take you both, and you’re completely fucking helpless to stop it.

“Yes. Another round,” Cal says casually. It occurs to you that he probably doesn’t want to announce your identity right off the bat, and you can’t decide whether or not you’re grateful for it.

“Aris will be happy to hear that,” the guard replies. “With the siege, we need everyone we can get. You’re sure they can be trusted?”

Cal glances back at you, smiling grimly. “Positive.”

“Good.”

The two of you are escorted all the way to the camp, and the guards trail away when you reach the outskirts. “This way,” Cal says, leading the two of you to one of the empty tents. “There’s room for both of you, since you seem so fond of each other.”

You stare at the tent, wanting nothing more than to tear through it like a rabid animal.

“Don’t be like that,” Cal implores. “Whatever they did to you, we’ll reverse it. We’ll get you back as you were, hm?” He waits for you to respond, but you don’t. If you do, you think you might actually lose your mind.

“Alright,” he finally sighs. “Feel free to explore camp, get something to eat, but don’t go past the outer torches. If I wake tomorrow and don’t find you here, the whole of this camp will come after you. Understand?”

You swallow hard, your nails piercing into your palms. “Fuck you, Cal.”

He shakes his head and turns away - but as he moves past you, you catch a flash of movement by his pack. You say nothing, and he’s gone before he’s noticed. You and Astarion are left in front of the tent, alone.

Well. Here you are.

The tent is larger than you’d expected when you retreat into it, Astarion following after you and sheathing the dagger he’d stolen. There are two bedrolls, some blankets and pillows, and a large amount of space to the side. No amount of blankets and pillows can make any of this better.

Silence falls, sour and agonizing. You want to throw up. You want to drink yourself to death. You want to cry. And you really, really want to punch something.

“So…” Astarion says slowly. “I suppose we’ve met each other’s parents, now.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s bitter. “And what lovely introductions we’ve had.”

His brows pinch in feigned offense. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

You try to smile, but it falls flat. You’re so angry it feels like fire is bursting from your chest. Pressing your face into your hands, you try to breathe, wanting this not to be real - please, gods, don’t be real - but it is. You can smell the torches burning in the distance and feel the soft breeze that’s pressing through the partially-open flap of the tent.

Astarion sighs, then pushes the flap to the side and crawls through.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“To find something to make this situation bearable,” he says, and then he’s gone.

You don’t think he’s foolish enough to fight against the tracking spell with nothing but a dagger, but it doesn’t stop anxiety from fluttering in your gut.

You can’t stand sitting still, so you leave, too - not following after him, just restless. Drifting.

For a long while, you wander aimlessly around the camp, trailing from place to place with no destination. A person or two gives you an odd look, but you really don’t give a damn. Your problems are much larger than some strangers and their opinions. All of it will turn irrelevant come morning.

Is it fury you feel, seeping so darkly through you? Has your anger turned ice-cold? It’s as if your life has all been an illusion, some kind of cruel trick. Was any of it real? Did Cal ever really care about you, or were you simply a means to an end?

You often try not to think about your parents, but you allow yourself to do so now. Would they approve of this? Would they have wanted this for you, if they were here? Or would you be nothing more than a pawn to them, too?

You don’t know. You’re starting to wonder if there’s anyone who’s ever really cared for you.

The approach of velvet-blue sky brings you wandering back to your assigned tent. It’s different than it had been before - but you can’t recognize quite how. Not until you get inside, at least.

Astarion has set up a meal: candles and wine and much fancier food than was in your packs or at the ration stations. You stall at the opening, and he nods for you to come in. You take a seat across from him, admiring his work. With the tent closed, it almost feels private. You can almost forget the camp out there, even for just a moment.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

He hands you a goblet, and you take it without another thought. “Well, darling,” he says softly, “I thought we should enjoy our last night of freedom. Who knows where we’ll be come morning.”

You press the glass to your lips and drink, finding a dark, heady wine on your tongue. “We didn’t have wine,” you recall to yourself. “Where the hells did you get this?”

“Oh, you know,” Astarion sighs, waving a dismissive hand. “Around.”

This time, it’s a real smile that overtakes you. “Just like that dagger?”

“Of course,” he says, tilting his head. A mirroring smile plays on his lips, and he takes a sip of his wine. “If he didn’t want it taken, he shouldn’t have had it out in the open. Besides,” he adds, rolling a shoulder, “I was only returning it to its rightful owner.”

You shake your head. “I still can’t believe he did that. I never thought he was capable of… anything even similar to that. I thought he - cared. About me.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Astarion replies, but there’s a quiet sympathy on his face. “Especially if they intend for you to rule, which they almost certainly do.”

“Of course.” Your throat tightens, and you take another sip of wine. You feel drawn so incredibly tight. It’s like a part of you is waiting to burst.

“So,” Astarion muses, swirling the glass around, “our last night of freedom. Any idea what you want to do with it, my sweet?”

You let out a huff, staring down at your wine. “Aside from blowing this entire gods damned camp up?” You let out a shaky exhale. “No idea.”

“No?” he asks. “No lifelong list? Something you’ve always wanted to try?”

There must be a thousand things you want to do while you still can, but none of them are coming to mind. You’re wound as tight as a rope, fuming, and would give absolutely anything to stop thinking.

When you shake your head, Astarion leans forward, setting down his glass. “Nothing comes to mind?”

“I - I don’t know. All I can think about is how… angry I am. I don’t know what I want.”

“Then allow me to make a suggestion, darling,” he says, taking the wine out of your hand, neatly setting it on the chest he’s using as a makeshift table. He leans forward, trailing his thumb along your cheek, and something in your stomach jumps. “We’re here, aren’t we? We might as well take the opportunity to distract ourselves.”

“Astarion-”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice low and honeyed. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’ve felt those little… trembles of excitement when my teeth are in your neck.” He pauses, tilting his head, and another smile plays on the corners of his lips. “No need to be coy,” he purrs. “Your body has already given you away.”

And you do want it. You want it so badly that you can hardly stand it. “And what about you?”

“What?” he asks, frowning. “What about me?”

“What do you want?”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Gods. Isn’t that obvious?” he asks, “I want you.”

You’re caught between the ever-growing want now steadily coursing through you and - something else. Something you don’t recognize. “If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure,” he insists, frustration bleeding into his voice as he pulls back to look at you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You give him a half-hearted smile. “Well, for one, I’ve never done this before. Remember?”

The frustration bleeds out of his face, and the line that’s been creased between his brows disappears. “Please,” he says incredulously. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Haven’t you heard of vampires preferring virgins?”

Something flutters in your gut at his words, at the heated way he’s taking you in. “Alright, then, vampire,” you say, before your fears can suck you in. “Do what you will with me.”

His eyes darken. “Oh, I most certainly will,” he murmurs.

He leans in, and his lips meet yours, fragrant with honeyed wine, ardent and sweet. Gentle at first, but that quickly becomes a haze of need - his hand tightening on your cheek, your hand tightening on his shirt.

Gods, you think. Kissing Astarion is like hearing a new melody and knowing that it will never leave your mind. The kiss you’d shared at the wedding has already haunted your mind plenty, but this? This is incomparable. Electric. He coaxes your mouth open with ease, and arousal shoots down your back like a bolt of lightning. When his tongue brushes against yours, every muscle in your body goes slack.

In the midst of everything, you’re still inexperienced. Your hands don’t know what to do or where to go. One settles on his shoulder, the other keeps itself clutched in his shirt. You can’t tell if it’s right, but if it’s wrong, Astarion doesn’t say.

He places his free hand at your side, using it to stabilize himself as he crawls over you, still kissing you, straddling your legs with his hips. Then that hand is at your waist, and his lips are at your neck, and you’re letting out a soft, wanting noise.

He huffs, kissing up your jaw, gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your earlobe. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?” he hums.

And what the hells are you supposed to say to that? Of course you’re eager. You’ve been wanting him for ages. The building need between your legs says that more than enough. You’re viciously turned on, and the smugness of his voice isn’t helping, but there’s still an awkwardness to the situation.

You have no idea what you’re doing. You can’t tell if anything you want is remotely right. In between the pleasure and passion, there’s a building anxiety that’s becoming more and more prominent. It’s distracting you from what he’s doing, which is leaving you nothing but frustrated.

“You’re thinking too much. Relax, darling,” Astarion murmurs, pulling away. “Close your eyes for me.”

And you do. You take one last look at him, so impossibly beautiful in the warm candlelight. His curls have dried tousled from the river, his eyes are half-lidded and dark, and there’s a certain amount of expectancy laced in his gaze that makes you shiver. Then, satisfied that you’ve enclosed the image to memory, you shut your eyes. The darkness helps, you think. A little.

“Good,” Astarion praises, and his lips return to your neck. He takes your hands and places them at his waist, and you’re more than happy to keep them there as he kisses down your jaw. In the darkness of your closed eyes, every touch becomes intensified. Every thought begins to slip away in favor of the feeling of him.

Sharp teeth, grazing along sensitive skin. The icy touch of his skin, sating the scorch of the arousal that shudders through your veins. The soft, almost ticklish brush of his curls against your neck as he kisses along your clavicle. The moment his hands stall at your top, your breath hitches, and your body flinches - an automatic defense you’ve ingrained over the years.

But you want him to touch you. You want this. So you take in a steadying breath and compel your muscles to relax, and he continues - not teasingly slow, but not rushed, either. Taking his time with you.

You’d thought he was beautiful when you first met, but you have to admit: you’re glad that your first time with him, as horrible as the outside circumstances are, is happening here, and not on your wedding night, when you were so hesitant of him. You wouldn’t have enjoyed it, then, even if he’d been the exact same with you. But now?

Gods, you’re enjoying it. And, judging by the growing hardness between his legs, he’s enjoying it too.

You’d like to think you’re a patient person, but you really aren’t. The more your want grows, the more your impatience does as well. Your breathing has turned heavy, and as his hands, slowly taking on your warmth, grasp lightly over your ribs, the rhythm of your lungs turns shaky - your entire body singing in want for something you’ve never even experienced.

Just as you’re truly getting desperate, he pulls away again, his hands trailing along your abdomen as he nips at your ear. “You poor thing,” he says, his voice light and teasing. “How did you stand it all this time, alone with me?”

You open his eyes and find him staring down at you, observing the sight of you. You shake your head, failing to bite away the smile that’s threatening to show itself. “Sex wasn’t exactly my priority in the middle of the woods, Astarion. The circumstances were awful.”

“True,” he remarks, tilting his head. His fingers graze over your thigh, still clothed with fabric, but you almost can pretend you don’t know better. “Still,” he says softly, his hands stalling at your lower navel, “here’s hoping we’ll get more time to enjoy this.”

Before he continues undressing you, he pauses, and that crease between his brows forms again. “Just to be clear,” he says, “you do want this?”

Your response is immediate, albeit breathy with want. “I do.”

He flashes you a grin, suddenly wicked. “Good.”

To your dismay, he crawls off of you, but it’s immediately remedied when he places his hands on your shoulder and eases you to the soft floor of the tent, coaxing your legs apart with his knee.

Any clothes you’re still wearing are quickly disposed of, and needless to say, being so naked while he’s still fully clothed leaves you feeling entirely too vulnerable. “Planning to take me with your clothes on?” you ask, and he pauses, blinking - shaking his head, as if shaking away a stray thought. “Of course not,” he says, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. “Simply admiring the view, darling.”

His shirt comes off, first, tugged over his head. All silky-smooth skin that you want to trail your hands over, admire inch by inch. Gods, he’s beautiful, shadows reflecting over lithe muscle, supple skin and unearthly beauty you shouldn’t be able to touch. But you are. You gently lift a hand to him, running your fingers over his forearm, and he smiles, undoing his trousers.

Your entire body tenses in anticipation of him, but your gaze can’t stay in place. It meets his for a moment, taking in the dark ruby color of his eyes. It flickers over his nimble fingers, studies the tendons in his hands, dances over his chest and abdomen. Something stirs in you, something that aches well beyond the temporary arousal, something that cuts deeper. It’s something that, selfishly, wants him to stay. Wants him to curl next to you in the nights, wants him to leave his mother behind and continue on with you.

An impossible want, but it’s still there. After this, where will it leave the two of you?

You aren’t sure - but if this is the only chance you’re going to get at it, you’re damn well going to take it. Astarion leans over you, kissing you softly, and then his talented fingers are going to work between your thighs. They work a smooth, blissful friction that you’ve never been able to achieve by yourself - and, though the anxious rooting inside of you wants to shut your eyes, you don’t. You hold his gaze.

For just a moment, he looks almost distant, but his eyes clear - and something darkens in his gaze as he looks at you. He props over you, watching you as you squirm in pleasure, his lips slightly parted.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and you nearly come apart right there. You don’t, though. He pulls his hand away and you’re left shuddering, panting and aching. Then, he moves closer, places a hand on your thigh to coax your legs apart, and works a finger into you.

His hands are warm by now, but - gods. The feeling of him, compared to your feeble attempts, is nearly shameful. He takes his time with this - goes slow, watching your face intently. He doesn’t want to hurt you, you realize.

Your impatience is less now, as he increases it to two, then three; the stretch, despite his best efforts, is bordering on painful. The almost-pain fades the further he goes on, bleeding into something else that’s so intensely pleasurable you want to beg him to just take you.

When he finally stops, he tilts his head. “Oh, you’re ready for me, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice silky and low.

“Please,” comes your response.

“Darling, no need to beg,” he says. “I won’t keep you waiting.”

And he doesn’t. He props himself over you, lowering himself to kiss you, and your leg hitches around his waist. His skin is warm from touching yours, but it’s cold where your arms move to wrap around his neck. You’re mindful of his scars, because you doubt he likes them touched, and he brushes his nose against your cheek as he pushes into you. Slowly, again, but you’re not going to complain. There’s that wash of pain again, and then - oh, gods. Pleasure. Delicious, blissful friction. Your chest heaves and your mouth lets out a loud, needy sound.

Only then do you remember you’re in the middle of camp, but honestly? You’re so removed at this point that you don’t even care. If all of Calthir hears you getting fucked to the heavens by their enemy prince, so be it. Cal’s probably fucked off to somewhere else anyway, no doubt burdened by guilt. He has to feel some sort of guilt, doesn’t he?

“Gods,” Astarion pants, drawing you back to the present as he slowly deepens his thrusts. You swallow hard, watching the crease of pleasure form between his brows, studying the flash of fangs between his lips. You’re drunk on pleasure, the feel of him, the tiny solitude in this tent that separates you from the rest of the world. He kisses you again, and this time it’s heated, desperate, messy.

His tongue molds against yours, his fangs graze your lip. Gods, his pace is picking up. Your muscles are starting to tense - the flushed warmth that’s building under your skin is growing. He lets out a soft moan and grips your shoulder, and you instinctively tilt your head for him, giving him access to your neck.

He studies your expression for a moment, as if he’s confirming what you’re offering, and then - gods. He sinks his fangs into your neck.

If you’d thought the practice was intimate before, it’s so much more now. You barely even feel the pain of the piercing skin - all you feel is him tasting you, groaning into your skin, his hips still rolling evenly.

He only takes a little, but when he pulls away, there’s that rosy flush to his cheeks. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on him, metallic iron. His movements are less graceful, now. His gaze is dark and intense, and his grip on you is stronger when he takes your shoulder again, thrusting harder - enough to have you tensing, the both of you panting.

When the pleasure finally takes you, it’s so intense it’s almost painful. It starts somewhere deep within, working its way through you, singing through your veins until the world blurs at the edges. Blinding, white-hot waves of it ebb and flow through you, taking you away from every sensation but that of Astarion, skin balmy against yours - floating somewhere in the depths of your mind until you finally come down.

Astarion shudders through his climax just after you, letting out a sudden, wanting noise - as if it’s been punched out of him. As if it had surprised him, just the way it had surprised you. You want to memorize it. You want to take that sound and remember it forever.

When it’s all passed, you’re left covered in sweat, sated, and very, very vulnerable. The arousal that had drifted away your insecurities is waning, and you’re left wanting to hide - to crawl away. But Astarion gently kisses you, carefully pulling out of you, and exhaustion takes over instead.

The Gur. Finding out about Cazador. Cal’s betrayal. All of that in one day, and it’s taking its toll. Your eyes feel heavy. Your muscles feel achy and worn out. Your thoughts are clouded over, too intertwined and complicated to drag apart when you’re like this.

You sit up and grab a stray rag, intending to clean yourself, but Astarion tugs it out of your fingers. “No, darling, let me,” he says.

And you do.

He confuses you - that he can be so vicious and so tender. He’d killed Gandrel without hesitation, without remorse - though, admittedly, you’d let him. Let him. As if you had some control over him. As if you could have stopped him. It should scare you, perhaps - that callous, venomous side of him - but it doesn’t. The rough edges of him you keep finding only make you want him more. The details don’t sate you. You always want more.

And now, you suppose you’ll find out what comes next.

The tent is silent. You fumble through your pack and find your sleeping clothes, and Astarion does the same. You’re hesitant, not wanting to push too far. You know very well sex doesn’t mean anything more - however much you might want more - and you know for certain that Astarion had not offered you anything aside from that. Still, the thought of curling up alone tonight has your chest aching.

When you finish dressing, you find that Astarion has pulled the two bedrolls together, fluffed up by the pillows and blankets. He raises a brow and pats the spot next to him, and it’s really very childish, the way your chest fills with a delirious sort of joy. You make your way next to him, and he folds you into his arms.

His skin is cool again. The little sounds of him are relaxing - the movements of his ribs when he breathes, the bob of his throat when he swallows, the light sigh he lets out when his head meets the pillow. It almost makes up for the silence in his chest. The void of sound where a beating heart should be.

For just a moment, before sleep pulls you away, you wonder if he remembers how it felt - to have something alive, thrumming in his chest.

tags: @amica-aenigmata-naboo @sadslasher13 @peachy-possum @the-lonely-abyss @maddiedrmr @starved-kitten @catching-fire-in-the-wind @aoirohi @g0retash

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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kamaluhkhan · 8 months

Text

we were wild and fluorescent (come home to my heart)

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: nostalgia + fluff + a bit of a *steamy* ending ; mentions of sex; swearing; conrad and reader drink alcohol; reader is a competitive swimmer + deals with a lot of pressure; complicated family dynamics (reader has two younger siblings + is eldest daughter); pop culture references (it book/movie, percy jackson series), this chapter is very long + ending is a little cheesy !!

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije, @drikawinchester, @maybankslover, @junnniiieee07, @elcpsstuff, @fangirl-kimora, @redbierd, @starkeylover, @serrendiipty, @jackierose902109, @lonelywitchv2, @c4rpediem-s, @teensyflowur, @peteronesgf, @percysaidnever

a/n: i literally cannot express how much it means to me that people are reading + enjoying my work!! thank you endlessly for following this story. this chapter is mostly fluff with a lot of banter between the reader and conrad + nostalgia. i'm thinking this will be the last part (....unless?) so i hope you enjoy it :)

part one | part two | part three

on a summer afternoon / i get to thinkin' 'bout the hazy days / under august shade that i used to spend with you (khai dreams, “sunkissed”)

now — summer age 18

you’re already frustrated when you walk over to the beck house, and when the person you least want to answer the door opens it, your mood goes from bad to worse.

"hey. is jere home?" you ask, peering behind conrad to see if someone else, anyone else is there. this is the first time since your argument that you and he were alone together, and you really don't want to look him in the eye. he doesn't look too thrilled to see you standing on his porch, either. he looks at you with tired eyes, wearing a black, short-sleeved rashguard and hair dripping wet.

"no, sorry."

"how about steven?"

conrad shakes his head and droplets of water go flying. he says something about prep for the debutante ball.

you exhale sharply, upset that your backup plan just fell through. "okay, bye."

you start walking away, but conrad calls your name.

"everything okay?"

you're surprised by his follow-up question — suspicious, even. given the harsh words you'd exchanged the last time you were together, you assumed that conrad didn't very much care to prolong a conversation with you, much less whether or not you were okay. whatever his intentions are, you don't really have time to go down this road.

"everything's fine," you answer loudly, still forging ahead.

"come on, y/n. i know you."

your hands clench into fists at his words and you finally stop in your tracks.

"conrad," you huff, turning around to face him. "i really don't have time for this."

"look, i'm not…." conrad sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. "i'm not trying to start anything. you seem a little stressed, and if there's anything i can do….just, let me be there for you."

conrad used to always be there for you in situations like these, and you ignored the sharp pain in your heart earlier when you decided he couldn't be this time. you really, really, really want to stay mad at him — you certainly have enough reasons to be for several lifetimes — but the gentleness of conrad's tone calms you down as much as it throws you off. instinctively, you feel your hands unclench, your heartbeat slow down.

“so, what’s wrong?”

you sigh. your siblings had planned an overnight trip with their friends at a campground about 3 hours away. they were meant to leave this afternoon, but the chaperones just cancelled — one had car trouble and the other a work emergency. now, they didn’t have a ride or adult supervision, which left you to come up with an alternative, lest you want to spend the rest of your summer drying your siblings’ tears and dealing with a lengthy guilt trip from your mother (who, conveniently, has plans this weekend and can’t reschedule). you left that last part out of your story to conrad, explaining only the basic components of your dilemma.

“but, it’s fine. i’ll sort something out.” as you wait for conrad to respond, you’re already running through a few other alternatives in your mind. you’re just in the middle of estimating the amount of money you would spend on gas when conrad says:

"well, i can come with you."

you quirk your eyebrow at him. “yeah, you don’t need —”

“you’ll need two cars — and two drivers — to get them there, right? i'm not doing anything right now, or tomorrow.”

“it’s not your problem, conrad. i’ll figure something out —”

“look, you have three options," he interrupts, tilting his head at you. "one, you take two trips yourself to get them all there, which means you’d spend around 10 hours driving each way and waste a ton of money on gas.”

you stiffen.

you hate that he knows exactly how your brain works….

“two, the twins have to cancel their trip, and you spend the rest of the summer with your siblings upset at you and your mom suggesting that you’re a bad sister, which is not true.”

you hate that he understands exactly the situation you’re in….

“three, you let me help you.”

….and you hate that he always insists on being helpful.

that was the real reason that you didn’t want to ask conrad — because you suspected that he might offer to help regardless of the tension between you two. the conrad you remember was always concerned with doing the right thing, no matter what, and despite how different he’s acting this summer, you knew that caring boy was still there, deep down.

sometimes, you hate being right — it can get a bit tedious.

conrad waits for you to answer, but he obviously knows you well enough to guess your decision. you don’t find the prospect of camping with conrad particularly appealing, but you’re desperate.

you tell conrad to be ready to leave in an hour, before walking back to your place to tell your siblings the good news.

a little over an hour later, your siblings, their friends — devi, khadija, kai, and leo — and all the camping supplies are split in between your and conrad’s cars. you decided to divide the group into threes: you’d drive your sister, khadija and leo; and conrad would drive your brother, devi, and kai. once everyone’s buckled in, you and conrad close the trunk of your respective cars and turn to each other.

“so, we’ve got a spot booked at stardust falls, but the plan is to stop halfway —”

“at sophie’s for a bite to eat,” conrad finishes, a smile creeping on his face. “i know the drill.”

you bite back a smile yourself before nodding at him and getting in the driver's seat.

as your sister cues up a playlist — you had just made her watch lemonade mouth so she was currently obsessed with hayley kiyoko and her music — you get lost in memories of summers past.

it was a tradition, many years ago: your siblings were too young to join, so for one weekend in late august it was you, conrad, jeremiah, belly, and steven with susannah and laurel, the seven of you piled into a minivan for an overnight camping trip. you spent the drive blasting music and singing along, playing ‘i spy’ while gorging on goldfish crackers and sunny d. about halfway through, there would be a pit stop to refill the gas tank, stock up on snacks, and get something to eat from the nearby diner. you would always get waffles with extra whipped cream and conrad would get chocolate chip pancakes, and you’d always split the food between you. once you got to stardust falls, you’d spend the afternoon swimming and sunbathing, and the night roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, stargazing and whispering until sunrise.

as much as you loved laurel and susannah, you and conrad would dream of getting your driver’s licence and being able to continue the tradition with just the kids. you never got the chance; it was only five years ago, when you were the same age as your siblings now, that you had gone on your last camping trip to the same location.

it seems your dreams were finally coming true — just not in the way you expected.

when you get to sophie’s diner, you’re relieved to have a chance to stretch your legs. the eight of you get a familiar booth in the right corner and you find yourself squeezed between devi and the window. the waiter distributes menus to everyone, and it isn’t until you look down that you see it: your initials next to ‘CF’. last time you were here, the five of you all carved your initials onto the table when the moms weren’t looking. you forgot that you’d placed yours right next to conrad’s; to be fair, you were always sitting next to each other. now he’s at the other end of the table on the opposite side, examining the menu carefully even after being here so many times.

this time, you just get a coffee and steal some bacon from your brother; conrad doesn’t get anything, claiming he isn’t hungry, until your sister offers him the rest of her french toast, which he practically inhales. after, you and conrad fill up on gas while your siblings and their friends go into the store for some snacks.

“hey, can you get me some sour patch kids?” you ask your brother, handing him a $5 bill. your brother nods and starts walking away; you glance at conrad, then add: “and some m&m’s, too!” to which your brother offers a thumbs up.

“thanks,” conrad says. he removes the nozzle and sticks it into the gas tank; you do the same, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but silence between you.

“does listening to the lightning thief musical on repeat make your brother a theatre kid?”

you turn to face conrad, who’s already looking at you with a lopsided smile.

“i think it makes him more of a percy jackson kid,” you decide.

“well, he has good taste. i didn’t even know there was a percy jackson musical,” conrad adds.

“i know, right?” you gush. “my brother and kai went to see it off broadway, and of course i had to chaperone, but i’m so glad i did because how, in the name of all the gods, did we not know this existed?”

conrad laughs. “we would have been obsessed,” he agrees.

you smile, feeling yourself hit by another wave of nostalgia.

when you were younger, you, conrad, jeremiah, steven, and belly loved the percy jackson series, rotating the books between the five of you until everyone had read them, the covers well-worn and sand stuck between the pages. so, for belly’s 9th birthday, laurel wrote out a prophecy with an elaborate quest for the five of you to go on - something about searching for poseidon's missing trident - while susannah used the time to fashion the backyard into your very own camp half-blood. you each got ‘assigned’ a godly parent: apollo for jeremiah, ever the sunshine boy; hermes for steven, the trickster of the group; aphrodite for belly, who looked at the world with rose coloured glasses; poseidon for you, because you loved the water; and athena for conrad, wise beyond his years.

yes, your heart did skip a beat, because of what a perfect coincidence — that conrad was essentially the annabeth to your percy. when would the two of you share the best underwater kiss of all time?

after a fun-filled afternoon, you each took home a necklace filled with clay beads, as was tradition at the fictional camp half-blood. even after summer ended, you would always wear yours in between swim competitions and practice. somewhere along the way, you misplaced it; it was probably left on the chlorine soaked floor of a locker room. you wondered if the others still had theirs, if conrad even remembered.

he’s looking at you now with such wistfulness, you have a feeling he does. when he looks at you like that, it’s easy to forget that you’re mad at him and he broke your heart. scratch that: you’re mad at him because he broke your heart.

and, not that it solves everything between you, but he’s here and didn’t have to be, and that maybe possibly heals something inside you.

before you can continue the conversation, a sudden click indicates that the gas tanks are full, just in time for your siblings and their friends to exit the convenience store, carrying a significant haul of snacks and drinks.

your brother hands you the sour patch kids and m&m’s, and you toss the bag of m&m’s at conrad, which he catches effortlessly. you rip open the package with your teeth and stuff a few of the sour candies in your mouth as everyone piles back into their respective cars.

you open the door to get in the driver’s seat, but the passenger side is empty. that’s when you notice that your sister and devi were still walking back from the store, taking their time. your sister laughs a little louder than usual, her smile a bit brighter when devi bends down to steal a sip of her drink. she’s wearing a jacket that you’ve never seen and probably belongs to devi, and your sister’s pair of sunglasses now rests on devi’s head. technically the sunglasses were yours, before you passed them down to your sister, but still — it’s adorable. devi winks at your sister before slipping into the backseat of conrad's car. your sister sighs contently before freezing at the realisation that you witnessed the moment between them.

"what?" she asks, a little flustered.

something makes you glance over your shoulder at conrad, who you now realise had seen the interaction between your sister and devi as well. beside him, the door to the driver’s side is also open, but he doesn’t get in. instead, conrad raises his eyebrows at you and smiles knowingly.

“nothing,” you say, smiling back at conrad, then at your sister. “but hurry up, if you want to make it to the falls before sundown.”

your sister mumbles something and gets in the car, while you check the route one more time. you tell conrad which one has the least amount of traffic, and soon enough, you’re on the road again.

conrad follows closely behind you, never allowing more than a car between before catching up. you glance in the rearview mirror and see your brother belting the words to what you assume is the percy jackson musical, and conrad is even bopping his head along. in your car, your sister is busy reading the song of achilles while the others in the back are relatively quiet.

“so what’s going on with you and discount james dean?” your sister suddenly asks. she puts her book down, reaches over into the cupholder to grab a few sour patch kids.

you laugh at the nickname, even if the answer disappoints you, just a bit.

“nothing.”

out of the corner of your eye, you can glimpse your sister roll her eyes.

“that seems to be your favourite word today,” she notes.

“fine, how about this for a change of pace….there was definitely something earlier between you and devi.”

your sister’s jaw drops and she turns around to see if her friends heard, but khadija is asleep and leo has his headphones on, looking down at his phone.

“y/n!”

“what!” you mock her incredulous tone. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

“i’m not…we’re not…” your sister stumbles over her words, turning her head sharply to face out the window. she plays with the sleeve of devi’s jacket, which she’s still wearing despite it almost being 85 degrees. the same music as before fills the space, and hayley kiyoko sings about girls liking girls as you wait for your sister to answer.

she finally sighs when the song ends. “i like her, okay? but we’re just friends.”

at her words, you’re overwhelmed by an eerie sense of deja vu. if you could have done things differently, maybe you would have. and maybe, just maybe, you can help your sister have a better outcome — whatever that means for her.

“look, kid, i know it feels like the end of the world, but you have options,” you promise. “one, you tell her and she doesn’t feel the same way; your relationship is forever ruined and your other friends have to choose sides —”

“y/n! seriously?”

“i’m just preparing you for the worst case scenario,” you defend, exiting the highway. “the best case scenario is that you tell her how you feel, or she feels the same way and beats you to it, and it all works out. and there is, of course, the secret third option.”

“what’s that?”

you shrug. “easy. you never cross that line.” you follow the signs that lead you to your destination.

“and bottle up my feelings forever,” your sister grumbles. “is that what you and conrad did?”

you make a right into the campground and put the car in park; conrad’s car pulls up next to you a few seconds later. you turn off the engine.

“not exactly.”

_________________________________________

you and conrad unpack the trunks as your siblings and their friends set up their tents. you hear their giddy banter as they plan how to spend the rest of the afternoon, as well as the sleeping arrangements. you smile to yourself when you hear devi suggest that she and your sister share a tent. the cars are pretty much empty except for some food to keep away animals, but you notice that not everything made the trip.

you double check your car, then conrad’s, before calling over your brother.

“yo, what happened to my bag?” you ask him.

“i thought it was your swim stuff, so i took it out of the trunk,” he explains. “did you need it?”

“oh no, no. it just had all my clothes, my sleeping bag and my tent,” you say sarcastically. “no big deal.”

your brother gives you a thumbs up, clearly not getting the message. he seems more interested in kai, who's currently unpacking his guitar.

“cool,” he says before walking back to his friends.

you huff and close your trunk. at least there is some balance in the universe: the mosquito repellant was in your bag, and your brother is usually their favourite meal. you always have afterbite, or you would have, if you had your stuff with you.

thankfully, you had your bathing suit underneath your clothes, and you could sleep in the backseat, even if it wasn’t the most comfortable…

“everything okay?” conrad sneaks up behind you.

“turns out none of my stuff is here.” you shrug. “but it’s fine.”

“i mean, we could share my stuff,” conrad offers, lifting up his bag. knowing him, he’s probably overprepared and carefully packed, even with only an hour’s notice.

you look at him for a second.

“let’s sort that out later, yeah?” you decide, ignoring how the prospect of wearing his clothes, sharing a tent with him, makes your heart beat faster. “i’m itching to go for a swim.”

taking advantage of the late afternoon sun, you all slather on sunscreen, throw on colourful swimsuits with sunglasses, and relax near the water. it’s only a short walk away from where you’d set up camp, and all your tents (well, except yours) are still in view. your brother, leo, and khadija are sitting down on their towels while playing cards. kai has borrowed your sister’s copy of the song of achilles to read. your sister and devi are, splashing each other in the water. conrad is reading a worn of stephen king’s it, a bottle of lemonade resting next to him.

khadija brought her wireless speaker, and out of all your siblings’ friends, you’re thankful that she has the best taste in music. “this is the day” by the the plays in the background of everyone’s laughter and playful banter. you swim idly in the water, let your skin absorb the sunlight, and take it all in.

as much as you were stressed this morning, you’re practically floating with joy now. you feel like a kid again — and it finally feels like summer.

your eyes land on conrad once more. he sits in the shade and you’re craving a sip of his drink, so you get out of the water and settle down next to him like it’s the most natural thing for you to do. you’re dripping on his towel, but he doesn’t seem to care; he hands you the bottle of lemonade without a word. you take a sip, surprised that it’s slightly bitter.

“does this have vodka in it?” you cough.

“yeah,” conrad answers, putting his book down. he takes off his sunglasses and rests them on his head. “i can get you something else, if you want.”

you shake your head and take another sip. “it’s fine. just don’t let the kids drink any alcohol, okay?”

“i won’t.” he offer you a wry smile. “but you know they’re not kids, right? they’re teenagers.”

“it feels weird calling them teenagers,” you say. he’s sitting up with his knees bent, and you lay down next to him, but not before stealing his sunglasses to shield your eyes. the sun moved slightly, and starts to peek through the leaves of the tree that was providing shade.

“just because we grew up, doesn’t mean they have to," you add once you're comfortable.

conrad hums. you tilt your head to look at him and notice his eyes lingering on the tattoo below the band of your lime green bikini top. you smile — he blushes, then looks away. conrad takes the lemonade bottle back from you and swallows a mouthful. you close your eyes, let the sun wash over you.

“my mom told me you got into stanford,” he says suddenly. “that’s really cool that you get to go to california. just like you wanted, right?”

“i thought you hated horror,” you say, referencing the book you saw him reading earlier. you desperately want to change the subject — your father is still pushing princeton because of their swim team rankings, and your mother is too busy spending her free time in bars to really care. needless to say, where you’re going to college isn’t a topic you want to discuss, unless you’re looking to ruin this perfect sunny afternoon.

conrad just looks at you for a second before playing along.

“i usually do, but this guy on my football team wouldn’t shut up about stephen king, so i thought i’d give it a try. you’ve read it?”

“no, but i saw the movies. i cried so much in it: chapter two, like i was practically choking on tears in the middle of this dark theatre. my ex had no idea why i was crying so much.”

“why did you cry so much?”

you open your eyes. it takes you a beat to respond, because you never really thought about it that deeply. by now, the song has changed to david bowie’s ‘heroes,’ and watching your siblings and their friends goof off in the middle of summer makes you feel like a background character in a coming of age movie, when five years ago you would have been one of the main characters. you miss those days, almost as much as you miss what you had with the boy next to you.

“because it reminded me of this,” you admit.

conrad lets out a small chuckle. “did i miss the summer where we fought a killer clown?”

“no, smart ass,” you shove his leg playfully. “but there were other things that were just as intimidating. like, parents who were jerks with soul-crushing expectations, and younger siblings who needed to be taken care of. drinking problems, cancer diagnoses, divorces. just…everything, you know? it was summer, we were kids, and things were just scary sometimes, but we always faced it together. and, then…”

“we grew up,” conrad finishes.

“yeah,” you muse. you lift the sunglasses off your face to look at conrad, and he’s already gazing down at you. if you closed your eyes again, you could imagine laurel and susannah sitting by the water and gossiping, steven and jeremiah diving underwater to try and catch a fish with their bare hands, and belly laying in the sun while reading a romance novel she's probably too young to read. but all you see now is conrad, smiling at you softly with the golden sunlight shining behind him, and it makes your heart ache.

belly mentioned that they hadn't been back here since you stopped coming to cousins. because it wasn't the same.

your voice drops to a whisper. “i'm sorry i ruined it."

"don't give yourself so much credit." his smile at you sadly. "we both made things messy; i should be sorry, too."

"are you?"

he hesitates, finishes off the bottle of lemonade.

"yeah," he finally says. "i'm sorry."

and it doesn’t feel like enough, but instead of worrying about what would happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after, you just focus on today. you relax back down on the towel next to conrad, and let the sunshine and sounds of summer fun wash over you.

the afternoon fades into the evening, and once everyone's dry, you get started on dinner, then dessert.

it's so familiar: the warm glow of the campfire, the smell of burnt marshmallows, the slight itch on your skin from where a mosquito must have bitten you, the pressure of conrad's knee pressed against yours.

you get up for more graham crackers, and your sister follows you.

"so, i hear you and conrad are sharing a tent," she teases. "you're welcome."

"why would i thank you?" you wonder, biting into a graham cracker.

a wicked smile appears on your sister's face. "well, i was the one who told our dear brother that you wouldn't need your bag. i figured your boyfriend would have everything you need."

"conrad's not my boyfriend," you remind her, a little annoyed. you and conrad made nice earlier, but the peace between you is precarious. you aren't particularly thrilled to be in a situation where you're confined to close quarters together — much less now that you know it's been fabricated by your own sister.

"so then why are you and conrad sleeping together in a one person tent?" she challenges, crossing her arms.

"do you want me to sleep outside and get eaten by werewolves?"

your sister rolls her eyes, but you notice how she shudders just a little bit.

"those don't exist," she declares, her voice a little shaky. your sister is old enough to know that monsters aren't real, but you still get a kick out of scaring her - especially when she's done something to frustrate you.

"oh, sure they do," you reply easily. conrad arrives at the table next to you just in time, probably to check on those graham crackers you'd promised to get. "stardust falls is crawling with werewolves, right con?"

"no," he answers. your sister sighs with relief too soon, because conrad continues. "only on the full moon…." he makes a big show of pulling down his sleeve and checking his watch. "which is tonight, if i remember correctly."

"but, don't worry," you wink at your sister. "devi will protect you."

there's a moment of silence between the three of you, before you and conrad burst out laughing.

"you guys are the worst!" your sister groans. you and conrad are still laughing as she grabs an unopened bag of marshmallows and snatches the pack of graham crackers from you before storming away.

"thanks,” you say once you’ve both calmed down.

he grins at you, reaching over to grab an orange. “my pleasure.”

you smile back at him before walking back to the campfire, already feeling warmth spread through your chest.

_________________________________________

when the night is at its darkest, everyone decides that it’s probably time for bed. you triple check to make sure the fire is out and all the food is away, and then everyone goes into their tent — with you as the exception.

you and conrad never circled back to whether or not you’d be staying in the tent with him, so you end up staying out by the water.

there’s still some rustling and whispers from the tents behind you, but mostly you’re left with the soft trill of crickets, and what sounds like an owl in the distance. you’re still wearing your bikini top and cutoff shorts, even though there’s a cool breeze near the water, because you didn’t really have another option. conrad was right earlier — it’s a full moon, and you’re thankful that it provides some light. the sky is clear enough that you can also see the stars. you’re so lost in looking for constellations that you’re startled by the sudden appearance of shadow right next to you.

“shit, conrad. you gave me a heart attack!” you exclaim, just loud enough for conrad to hear and quiet enough to not wake the others.

“sorry,” he whispers back, sitting down next to you with a lantern. “i couldn’t sleep.” conrad tilts his head up. “but, i come bearing gifts.”

conrad hands you one of the mugs he’s holding — not the usual thermos you’d bring for camping, but ones that you’d find in the kitchen back at the beach house.

in the dim light, you see that it’s your favorite mug, the same mug you’d dropped during your argument a few weeks ago. the cracked porcelain is so carefully repaired, you wouldn’t have known it was broken.

“thanks,” you whisper. you take a sip of the lukewarm hot chocolate, but the warmth that spreads through your body is from conrad’s gesture more than anything.

conrad nods and points up at the stars. “find anything good?”

you launch into a detailed explanation of what constellations you’ve found so far — and, when that’s over, you continue making up stories like you’re david attenborough narrating a nature documentary. sure, it’s ridiculous to use a very serious british accent to suggest that king kong and godzilla are immortalised in the night sky, but it makes conrad chuckle, and you decide that’s worth all the stars in the universe.

in between stories, conrad asks: "are you cold?"

conrad already knows the answer, because he passes you a light jacket without you saying a word. you shrug it on, and practically sink into the familiar fabric.

"so you're the one who had my varsity jacket," you realize. it smells like him now: lemon and sandalwood.

conrad smiles sheepishly and shrugs. "it's a good jacket — what was i supposed to do, not wear it? you left it last summer."

last summer.

the words hang heavy between you.

“y/n —”

“con —”

you both stop, waiting for the other to continue. there have been enough moments this summer where you’ve cut your heart open and conrad just watched you bleed. a part of you wanted him to do the same, even though you know how much it hurts.

“why did you come back that night?” he asks. conrad is usually confident, sturdy, reliable; right now, though, he’s the most timid you’ve ever seen him.

“i needed to.”

“why?” he presses.

you bite the inside of your cheek, remembering yourself a year ago and all the pressure you felt, from your parents and coaches. you used to love swimming, and you realized too late how much competing took over your life. things weren’t perfect at home, either, but you were trying your best to guard that truth from your siblings. ironically, that was part of the reason you had distanced yourself from conrad in the months prior: you knew he would worry, and you didn't want to burden him.

you tell bits and pieces of this to conrad, cutting yourself open once more.

“i felt like i was drowning,” you admit. “i tried so hard to hide it — just keep swimming, right? but it got to be too much. so last summer, when i had a meet nearby, i just had to see you, because i knew that you were the one person in the world who would jump in and save me.”

“i didn’t know.” is all conrad says for a moment. you don’t add anything, because you find yourself in the same position as always: vulnerable, pouring your heart out.

“what you said on the fourth — you were right,” conrad sighs. “when you came last summer, i was already mad at you for not coming back to cousins for so long, and then you were leaving again and i was hurt. and - it’s fucked up, but i wanted to hurt you, too.”

“mission accomplished,” you laugh sadly.

“i shouldn’t have said what i said that morning last summer, and i shouldn’t have ignored you after.”

“you shouldn’t have ignored me this summer, either” you add. you can’t help calling him out for his shitty behaviour lately as well.

“hey, you ignored me, too,” he points out. “and, yeah, maybe i deserved it. there’s just a lot going on and….” conrad trails off, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, where a sliver of golden sunlight peeks through the horizon. you and conrad must have been talking for hours because morning is now just around the corner. “i know i was a jerk. just please know how sorry i am — for everything.”

you’re about to say something, but you can’t seem to find the right words. i'm sorry too didn't feel like enough. instead, you reach out and grab conrad’s hand. it’s cold in yours, but you don’t care.

“i can’t lose you,” conrad whispers, almost choking on the words. he squeezes your hand. “i can’t lose you, too.”

“i’m here, connie,” you whisper back. with your other hand, you brush some hair out of his eyes before using your thumb to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. “and i’m really glad you’re here, too.”

throughout the entire conversation, you and conrad had moved closer together — now, your shoulders are touching and your left leg is bent over his right one.

“did you mean what you said on the fourth?” conrad asks, his eyes searching yours. “do you regret that night?”

“i’m guessing you mean the us-having-sex part?” you reply, a gentle smirk on your face.

conrad nods. he’s blinking faster than usual, and you can tell he’s anxious to hear your answer.

“if it ruined things between us, then i would,” you admit. you realize then that your hand is still on his cheek; you remove it, but keep the other intertwined with his. “tell me it didn’t ruin things between us, and maybe i’ll change my mind. i mean, do you regret it?”

conrad smiles at you, his shoulders relaxing. “no. that’s one thing i don’t think i’ll ever regret. that’s another thing you were right about — that night meant something to me. it meant everything.”

your heart skips a beat at the way he looks at you, tenderly, waiting for you to say something.

"yeah, me too. or, me neither. i mean, i’m sorry -” now, it’s your turn to stumble over your words, nerves getting the better of you - you take a deep breath to calm yourself. “i’m sorry for not being here; i’m sorry for hurting you; and i’m sorry for making you feel like i didn’t care, because that’s further from the truth.”

“i appreciate it,” conrad replies sincerely. “but i think we’ve apologized to each other enough for one night.”

you laugh. “yeah, i guess you’re right about that one. have any alternatives, fisher?”

conrad reaches up to caress your cheek, a gentle gesture that contrasts the mischievous smirk on his face. his eyes fall to your lips, then back to yours. “i can think of a few —”

you kiss him before he finishes his sentence.

maybe you'd never shared an underwater kiss, but kissing conrad feels as dynamic and unpredictable as the ocean.

when you kissed last summer, it was like a wave breaking onto the shore: the built up anticipation finally coming to fruition.

earlier this summer, at nicole’s party, kissing him felt dangerous, like swimming out into the turbulent water and realizing you’re in too deep.

right now, his lips on yours feel like floating in water on a warm summer day.

conrad slips his hand underneath your jacket, and you shiver when he touches your bare skin, right under the band of your bikini top where your tattoo is. you shift ever so slightly and suddenly you're tangled in his lap, feeling him strong and sturdy beneath you. one of your hands is on his thigh, while the other tangles into his hair. you tug the strands just the way you remember him liking it; he groans and kisses you with more intensity, a calm sea gradually becoming more rough.

once you’ve run out of air, you pull apart ever-so-slightly, appreciating his swollen lips, pink cheeks, and tousled hair in the early morning sunlight. you could do this for hours — drowning in him — and you're about to do it again, too, before you’re shocked back into reality.

“i knew it!” you hear your sister yell in the distance. she then adds something about your brother owing her ten dollars. you make a mental note to get them back later for betting on your love life.

conrad laughs against your lips, then pulls away. you get up and offer him your hand, which he accepts with a smile.

“you might wanna…” you gesture towards his messy hair, and he blushes even more despite how much he enjoyed it earlier.

“right.” he clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair to tame it.

“i’m gonna go get started on breakfast,” you say before walking a few steps closer to the campsite.

you turn back around to conrad, who was frozen in place, looking at you carefully. his posture is stiffer than before, and it takes you a second to realize why: he’d been here before. he’d watched you leave one too many times.

not this time, though. this time, you reach out your hand — a peace offering, a promise.

summer will end soon, and maybe you aren’t quite sure what the future holds once it does.

“so, are you coming with me or not?”

but you do know this: when you get back to the beach house, you’ll go surfing with the fisher boys, watch movies and eat sour candy with belly, play video games with steven and jere. you’ll sneak out to meet conrad, then watch the sunrise together. the five of you will have bonfires on the beach, maybe even inviting your siblings and their friends, and roast marshmallows. susannah will host another pool party and you’ll feel conrad’s arm wrapped around your waist; he’ll kiss your cheek, sitting on the edge of the pool, and you'll jump in the water, bringing him under with you, before kissing him back.

you'll spend one particular night in conrad's bedroom, hands and lips all over each other, trying to keep quiet, and when you search his drawers for a condom, you'll find the same necklace that you, jeremiah, steven, and belly were gifted. it holds faded clay beads painted with various symbols - a turquoise trident, a crashing wave, a rainbow, a starfish. you'll think back to how the tradition started at belly's percy jackson themed birthday, when you and conrad were 11, and susannah would give one to each of you at the end of each summer. there will be a sharp pain in your heart when you notice that some beads are missing, the years don't add up, but you'll realize, prompted by conrad's deep voice calling you back to bed, that you might be able to make up for lost time.

you'll soak up as much sunshine as you can. you’ll squeeze out every ounce of summer, and then some. you'll dust off old traditions, and make some new ones, too. you'll fill those necklaces with more clay beads.

and you'll always - always - come back home.

#i had to include percy jackson references im not sorry #please enjoy :))#the summer i turned pretty fic #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x fem!reader #tsitp fanfic #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #saf writes

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 month

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Review Two, Electric Boogaloo: Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

This is my second review for Eureka, as the document has been majorly updated, and the designers are gearing up to fund it on Kickstarter from April 10 to May 10.

This game is an investigative game meant for mysteries that incorporate a large amount of action and horror. I’m going to break down some of the interesting things Eureka does, and talk about who I think would be a good audience for it.

Graded Success

Eureka uses 2d6 for pretty much every roll, with the possibility of ending up with a failure, a partial success, or a full success. You can add modifiers from various different places, such as your skills, your fear, and your player Truth. The breadth of this game and the game philosophy behind it means that it is not a Powered by the Apocalypse style game - Eureka is its own beast.

Investigation

There are two kinds of rolls in Eureka - investigative and non-investigative. When you are not investigating, success and failure will mostly be determined by what makes sense in the fiction. For investigative rolls, regardless of success or failure, your character will receive investigation points.

I really like this mechanic because even if you fail, your character makes progress - and in fact, since you gain more investigation points when you fail, this plays as if your character is able to use their failures to arrive at a conclusion later in the story.

This is a great time to talk about the Investigation Bar, which is the central focus of the game. When you fill the Investigation Bar, you get a Eureka! This could be a chance to get a vital piece of information, or to tip the narrative scales into your character’s favor.

Precious Information - Secretive Play

Secrets are important in Eureka. The Narrator has secrets of course - the answers to the mystery, the motives of the NPCs, the supernatural that is hiding around the corner - but the players do to. If you are a vampire, a werewolf, a psychic, etc., you are encouraged to wait until a dramatically appropriate moment in the game to reveal this information.

This presents a very specific style of play. Eureka is an ideal game for folks who want to procedurally uncover information, and game masters who like using pre-determined, pre-written mysteries, with motives, clues and events mapped out. How these mysteries are solved still depends on what happens in play, but as a GM, you’ll have plenty of sources to draw on when the characters ask questions.

Eureka also prepares players for messy relationships between their characters. If you want your characters to misunderstand each-other, compete with each-other, or even betray each-other, that is an option in this game. These complicated relationships might even give birth to a secondary plot line for the characters to follow as they try to solve the mystery, especially if they want to find the answers for different reasons. I think it has the potential to make Eureka a multi-layered storytelling experience.

Procedurals

This multi-layered experience is possible only if you have one or more members of the group who are dedicated to taking notes. Because the information being relayed to the characters is so important, it’s crucial that the players remember that information.

In some ways, this reminds me of games where players are expected to get inventive with the tools they have. Players are given pieces of information, and then asked to put the pieces together while in character. The handing out of this information is similar to what I’ve heard described in GUMSHOE - obvious clues will not require a roll - but what is done with that information is up to the players.

I think this might be why playing in longer games or campaigns might be a really good format for Eureka, because it allows characters to piece together a big mystery over a long period of time. This is a game that requires a large amount of investment from both players and game-master alike; this is procedural play in which the narrative emerges from the procedure.

Horror

Eureka thrives with horror, and while the game is meant to be compatible with adventures with various systems, that doesn’t mean that it is genre-agnostic. There are dark things in the corners of this world, whatever it may be, and those things will scare and stress out your characters. There are a number of mechanics that tie Eureka to horror really well.

First is Composure, which is a replacement for sanity mechanics of games like Call of Cthulhu. Your character can only take so much emotional stress before it starts to inhibit their ability to perform certain tasks. If you lose enough Composure, you’ll find yourself hindered in the amount of positive modifiers you can apply to any given action. I like how this replicates how stressors can inhibit it personal performance - and the fact that Composure can be regained means that you can moderate how gruelling the gameplay is.

There’s also character Truths, which aren’t necessarily horrific, but can give you a reason to take the less-than-optimal path in any given situation. Similar to Vice in World of Darkness, you can gain a modifier to a situation in which your character chooses to act in a way that is in line with their Truth, even if there is another option available. This is a mechanical reward for playing true to your character, flaws and all.

The game also asks you to personalize the fears associated with your character. These fears may trigger Composure Rolls, or apply modifiers to them to make them harder to pass. These fears may also be cues to give to your Narrator, indicating what kinds of things you want to inhibit your character, and what kinds of things you want your character to be able to face with little difficulty.

Toolbox

There are elements of Eureka that are optional, which are there to help tailor your game experience. For example, you can include a Ticking Clock to give your players a dead-line or heighten the suspense, which can focus the game and also make it feel more like a thriller.

You can also tailor the skills to make the game fit a certain setting, such as prioritizing horseback riding or driving cars - or perhaps increasing the medical skills to make this a mystery much more focused on biology and medical practises.

The game also has many nods to various forms of detective fiction, as well as supernatural mysteries, action pulp films, and film noir. You can see this primarily in character abilities, which come as a big list of things you can pick and choose and pair together for a unique character.

All in all, if you want a game where Columbo, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Indiana Jones can all be in the same adventuring party, you might want to check out Eureka.

You can find a free download version of Eureka here, and keep an eye out for the Kickstarter here!

#mint reviews #eureka #indie ttrpgs #tabletop games #dnd

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photo1030 · 2 years

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 5: No Offense

Summary: You unintentionally offend Arthur while out in town.

Warnings: Swearing & language; angst with some fluffy stuff

*Full disclosure, the line in the story “not everyone’s cup of tea” is taken from a meme that I saw. I tried to rework it so it is not blatant plagiarism

*This image belongs to @lady-of-blackwater

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Arthur stands outside of his tent, sipping his morning coffee. This is his third cup already. He taps his finger on the side of the tin cup after each sip, his attention acutely focused on something off in the middle of camp. He's observing you sitting with Lenny, caught up in some sort of deep conversation. A million thoughts are running through Arthur's head right now as he shuffles his weight from hip to hip, the thumb of his other hand absentmindedly tucked into his gun belt. Does he go over there, does he not?

After you were offered that job last week, the ensuing events caused Arthur to stop and confront the internal sentiments that have been bubbling under the surface for awhile now. He's been hoping that whatever fondness he has for you is the same that everyone else in camp has, as they all seem to have taken a real shine to you right from the start. Or, its simply due to the nature of your friendship. You and Arthur have connected pretty fast, but then again, that could be because of how you met. Either way, it seems that things are becoming more complicated for Arthur now. After everything he's been through, and everything that he still does, he's resigned himself to the notion that he's better off keeping a distance from personal relationships. But coming back to the issue at hand, fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how one looks at it, you declined that job offer, a great opportunity, prompting you to stay with the Van Der Linde gang for now. But the idea that you could abruptly leave at any time has left a very unsettled feeling within Arthur, one that he himself didn't realize was creeping there within.

He finally decides to quit being a chicken-shit and just walk over. If he wants to talk to you, he should just go over and do it, damn it. No one else seems to have an issue with talking to you, why should he? Tossing the remnants of his coffee out, he sets his cup just inside his tent. Taking a quick, deep breath, he wipes his hands on the side of his pants as he heads over to the table. He admittedly is self conscious as he gets closer to the two of you, as he quickly overhears that you and Lenny are talking about books and literature.

"What's goin' on over here?" Arthur asks, trying to act casual as he sets himself down at the table next to Lenny, promptly lighting a cigarette between his lips.

“Hey, there, Arthur," a smile automatically dancing across your own lips as you greet him. "We were just discussing the book “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde. Ever read it?" you ask him.

"Pffttt," Lenny interrupts with a waive of his hand before Arthur can even answer. "Only thing he's ever read is a wanted poster, (Y/N)." Arthur turns his face to Lenny, brows furrowed with a disgruntled look.

"Stop it." You swat at Lenny's arm. "Arthur is probably too busy working all the time and providing for everyone here to ever sit still long enough to relax, let alone read a book."

Lenny shakes his head at you. "(Y/N), why are you so nice to the meanest one here?" he asks exasperated. The question posed causes Arthur's interest to peak just a bit more, keen on hearing your answer as his gaze shifts from an annoying scowl at Lenny to eyebrows arched in interest at you.

"Oh, he’s not so bad," you smirk as you reach over and ruffle your fingers under Arthur's chin like you'd scratch a dog behind the ear. He just quietly stares back at you, blowing cigarette smoke out his nose, making you giggle at his understated playfulness.

"Seriously (Y/N), why is Arthur always your favorite around here?" Lenny pushes again.

"He just is", you shrug with a grin, looking at Arthur as he slowly mirrors the same grin back to you. "Actually," as you stop and think, "you want to know why? He brings me coffee." You smartly point your finger at Lenny, as if you have just made a profound realization.

"That’s it? He brings you coffee?", the doubt evident in Lenny's voice. He looks over at Arthur, who just shrugs as well, accepting the compliment as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

"Oh, there’s other things for sure, but yeah, that’s what does it." You answer is so simple and matter-of-fact that it leaves Lenny speechless for a moment.

"Well, hell I could do that!" Lenny finally says incredulously, waiving his hand a bit again in emphasis.

"You could...but you don’t...so you’re not," you sweetly remind Lenny and your mischievous grin effectively decides and ends the argument. "Anyway, what do you have going on today, Arthur?" moving your attention on to other things.

"Hosea needs me to run into town for him, get some things he needs. Wanna come?" Arthur asks you, bringing his cigarette up to his mouth again. There is a slight pull on the corner of his mouth that could pass as a small smile, a tinge of hopefulness in his voice. "Could get you outta here for a bit," he adds to sweeten the deal. "Sure, but what about Susan?" you ask warily. And speak of the devil you hear Ms. Grimshaw off somewhere in the camp. She's already in a mood and raring to go for the day, hollering at Uncle by the sounds of it. Arthur motions with his head for you to follow him as he quickly gets up to head towards the hitching posts on the edge of camp. You promptly follow his lead, a huge, excited smile on your lips. "We were never here," he says to Lenny as he flicks his cigarette butt to the ground and steers you away from the table. Arthur puts his massive hands on your shoulders, keeping you in front of him to shield you from Ms Grimshaw's vision as you walk, and quickly points you towards the horses. "C'mon, it’s now or never!" he says impishly, leaning over to whisper the plan in your ear. Your stifled giggle makes a full-fledged smile suddenly erupt onto his lips.

As the two of you sneak past, Arthur calls over to Javier who is sitting off the side of his tent tuning his guitar, letting him know that you are borrowing his horse, Boaz, to which the man just tips his head to you with a smile.

The ride into the town of Silverton is pleasant and the two of you enjoy each other's company greatly. You chit-chat about everything and nothing, as you two are prone to do. The town is busy today, with people bustling all over. The mildly warm weather has drawn out a lot of the townsfolk for trade and commerce. Somewhere off in distance, you can faintly hear music being played. All in all, an enjoyable atmosphere. Today's errand consists of a quick trip to the general store for cigarettes and a newspaper for Hosea. Admittedly, its nothing very urgent, but the idea gave Arthur an opportunity to be alone with you and admittedly, he'll look for any excuse to do so. While there, Arthur also grabs a bottle of brandy for his old friend. Its not something on Hosea's list, but Arthur knows its something that the old man will greatly appreciate.

You are packing up your wares into the saddlebags as you and Arthur stand with the horses where they are tethered outside the general store. At the last minute, you remember that Mary-Beth is in need of some buttons for a new shawl that she is knitting. "Oh, you know what, before I forget, I need to stop at the seamstress shop for Mary-Beth. Do you mind?" you ask Arthur as you tighten down a strap on Boaz's saddlebag.

"Not at all," Arthur gives you a slight shake of his head. "You go on ahead. I think the shop is down the strip here a little ways," and he points down the street over your shoulder. "I'll wait here by the horses for you."

"OK, great. I'll only be a moment," you promise with a twinkle in your eye. Arthur says nothing, just nods in return, a smile of his own on his face. He watches as you turn to head in the direction he indicated a moment ago. Your hair flips about on your shoulders with the motion, a happy bounce in your step as you walk away and down the busy street. A feeling of ease begins to settle over Arthur as he sighs softly, observing how you turn your head about to watch the people you pass, and then turn to look into the store windows as you stroll by them. You have such a curiosity and wonder about the world around you that it makes Arthur think back to see if he can remember when he lost that spark in himself, and wonders if you will ever lose it as well.

Inside the seamstress shop, it doesn't take you long to grab the buttons that Mary-Beth will need. The shop isn't too large, and its neatly organized. All of the items for purchase are kept on the one side in beautiful wooden boxes along the many shelves that line the wall. The other sides to the room display the fabrics and patterns, with the open corner for fittings. You even grab another ball of yarn so that Mary-Beth can add to her project if needed. Honestly, you are in a hurry to finish your shopping here, because the sooner you are done, the sooner you can get back to Arthur. He is looking quite handsome today in his red button-down shirt. The thought makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter a bit. You don't get to be alone with Arthur very often, so you always want to be sure to make the most of it when you do.

As you come out of the seamstress shop, you are fiddling with the small package in your hands, when you accidentally catch the shoulder of a man passing you on the busy street. "Oh!" you startle. "I'm so sorry!" you apologize quickly with an embarrassed smile. "Hey, watch it, you stupid cunt!" the man snaps at you, throwing you a harsh look as if he'd strike you as soon as look at you before he turns in a huff.

You freeze in place with a shocked look upon your face, as you certainly don't think your actions warranted that kind of reaction. "Asshole", you mutter under her breath as you are about to continue on your way.

"What did you just say?!" he snaps back, halting in his step to spin back on you.

"Oh, you heard me, alright," the indignant tone just dripping in your voice as your eyes meet his glare, immediately go dark and piercing.

"You better watch that mouth of yours, woman!" the man threatens, creeping closer to you menacingly. He is not overly huge, but his demeanor is intimidating. He's clearly a bit rough around the edges, not a lot of refinement there to be seen at first glance.

"You best step back and be on your way, mister," you warn as he gets closer to you. He is only about a foot from your face now, but you hold your ground defiantly.

"Maybe someone needs to take you down a peg or two, missy," he threatens you again, this time his voice a quiet rumble.

“Is there a problem here?” Arthur's voice booms over the sound of both you and this idiot, as Arthur seems to come out of nowhere, jaw clenched tight and his eyes intense.

"You see my friend here?" you hiss out at the man as you move to step closer to Arthur. "He’ll squash your skull like a piece of fruit if you don’t get outta here!" you say as you wave the man off dismissively.

The man eyes up Arthur suspiciously. "Is that right?"

"Yeah, that’s right!" you snap at him sharply. "He’ll do it for sure 'cause I’ve seen him do it before." Arthur glances from the man to you as you rant, his eye brows pulling ever so slightly in concern. "He swats men like you away like flies!," you go on. You are not going to put up with this cretin's shit, and certainly not with Arthur here. In fact, with Arthur standing next to you, you are even more cocky, because you know you are safe with him. Always.

Arthur doesn't say a word, eyes shifting back again and burning into the man. You watch as his shoulders pull back, chest puffing out, making him appear even more massive than he already is. For a brief moment, you panic that this catalyst will spark too great an anger in Arthur, worrying if you've just unleashed more than you can contain. But, what you do not realize is that it is not just this asshole that's spurring his anger. Arthur is actually angry with you as well. You've just made him feel like a dog on a chain, like he's some implement to be manipulated as you see fit. Is this what you think of him? Arthur has no illusions of his nature or his place in the world. But he was really hoping to have a fresh start with you. Like a fool, he actually believed that you see the man behind the outlaw. But apparently not.

"You heard the lady, mister," Arthur growls at the man, his voice low, a snarl on his lips. "You best move on and keep your comments to yourself before I break that jaw of yours and you can't say anything else!"

The man shrinks back, now fully comprehending the wrath that he is about to undertake should he continue this exchange. He looks from Arthur to you, then back to Arthur again. You can tell he's arrogant enough to want to say something smart back to Arthur or to you, but thinks twice about it. He eventually says nothing, but turns his head to spit, before looking you up and down again disdainfully and finally walking away.

"What an ass," you say to Arthur as your eyes follow the man as he heads across the street and into the waiting saloon. When Arthur doesn't give you a response back, you turn to look at him, but his face is still twisted up in a scowl. You assume it is because the man, though. "Time to go," he says curtly and abruptly heads back to the where the horses are hitched, leaving you standing there by yourself. You pause for a moment, blinking your eyes in slight confusion at his demeanor before you hurry after him, struggling a bit to keep pace with his long strides.

Arthur reaches the horses first and is already slinging himself up into the saddle before you can even reach for your horse's reins. This catches your attention, as Arthur usually makes sure you are up and saddled before he would even mount his own horse. In fact, he is already turning Buck back towards the west-end of town where you both came in from before you can even get a leg up on Javier's horse. You know something is definitely wrong at this point, but decide to say nothing for now, figuring it best to wait until you are out of Silverton and heading back to camp.

The journey back to camp is quiet, and Arthur is sullen the whole ride. You shift uneasily in Boaz's saddle as you watch Arthur from behind, for he is riding out in front of you as if he doesn't even want to be next to you. "Did you want to stop anywhere else before we head back to camp?" you ask. "We could head over to that farmer's place we passed and see if he has any of those tomatoes left? I could fry some up for us when we get back?" you try to entice him into answering you, but all that you get is a "Gotta head back" without so much as a glance over his shoulder at you. "Are you really that mad at that fool in town?" you ask tentatively, not sure if you should even bring it up. Your only answer back is more silence. At this point, you are truly concerned at how Arthur is still brooding, yet won’t tell you what is wrong.

"This is ridiculous," you mutter to yourself. Finally, you halt Boaz dead in the middle of the path, waiting for Arthur to notice and stop as well. When he doesn't hear the clop of your horse's hooves, it makes him stop his own horse also. And finally, he looks back at you.

"What the hell you stoppin' for? Quit screwin' around," he snaps at you.

"Are you going to tell me why you’re being such a crab-ass?" you counter, eyebrows raised slightly.

"What’s the problem? I’m always like this," Arthur replies sarcastically with a slight head tilt. You give him a side-eye glance, trying to figure out what he’s talking about.

"Not with me, you’re not," you shoot back. Then suddenly your face softens, as you break and concern finally takes over. "Arthur, come on. Talk to me," your voice carrying the same concern as your expression. When he sits quietly, still sulking, you sigh softly and climb down off your horse and obstinately stand next to it, arms folded over your chest as you look at Arthur expectantly. You're not going to be moving until he tells you what's going on in that stubborn head of his.

Arthur hangs his head a moment in resignation before he too finally dismounts and walks over until he is standing in front of you. He stands there and looks at you for a brief moment, weighing whether he should even get into this right now, but he feels you probably won't get back in that damn saddle unless he does. "Everyone else sees me as a brute, why wouldn’t you?" he blurts out, his hands firmly planted on his hips. Now it’s his turn to look to you for answers. You stand there in silence, confused as to what he’s even talking about. And then it hits you.

"Oh….Oh Arthur, I'm...I am so, so sorry," your voice soft and apologetic. "I didn’t mean to offend you. That’s not what I meant by all that back there," you stammer, quickly trying to do damage control.

"What the hell else would you mean by that?" Arthur bites back at you, clearly angry still. You are a little taken aback by his harsh tone, but you suppose that you can't really blame him.

"Only that you’re strong and protective," you try to offer as an explanation. "I can’t hide you, you know," trying to crack a small smile on your lips to ease the tension, but it's not working. "Listen, I feel the safest when you’re around, and I’m happy to have you with me wherever I go." You reach out and lay your hand on his wrist in emphasis as you tell him this. Your eyes look up at him imploringly, praying that your getting through to him, but he’s just not having it.

"I wish you would embrace what you are, rather than curse it," you say sadly when he has no reply to your statements, slowly withdrawing your hand from his.

"What I am is what other people hate, (Y/N)," Arthur says bitterly. "People see me as ugly, mean, and heartless…as a monster," his eyes blink a few times as he drops that last bit on you, a clear indication of the profound effect that it has on his mind and his heart.

“What?!” you whisper, flabbergasted and eyes wide. "None of those things are true, Arthur! None of them!" You pause a moment to gauge where his thoughts are at, but his face is a rock, hardened and jaded from the years of abuse that he's not only endured, but given out because of it. "So you're not everyone’s cup of tea. You drink coffee anyway, so what does it matter? To hell with everyone else!" you tell him. Arthur just looks at you with a blank stare before silently shaking his head and rolling his eyes, like you're talking nonsense.

Stepping even closer, you reach out again with your hand, this time laying it on top of his gun as it sits in its holster on his hip and look up onto his face. "This is what you do, not who you are. If you hate what you’re doing, Arthur, then stop." He thinks on that for a moment. But then his eyes go hard, his face twisting up in anger again. He is still so angry right now, his emotions all over the place. But honestly, you didn't mean anything by any of this. In fact, you thought he'd be happy that you actually acknowledge and accept who he is. But for whatever reason, he just doesn't see it that way. For to him, you are the one person who seemed to look past his brutality and see the potential, what little he has left, beyond the gun.

"Don’t misunderstand me, Arthur," you say, fearing you've angered him even more now with your suggestion, because you know its not as simple as that for him. He has commitments and obligations that run deep. "I’m not trying to change you. I don’t want to interfere with your family dynamic. You’ve been together forever. But don’t let them make you into a monster. Because that is certainly not what you are." Arthur turns away from you slightly as he fidgets anxiously, not able to look you in the eye as you say these honey-sweet things to him. He really doesn't want to talk about this subject with you.

"Hey, listen to me, now" You reach across his chest to put your hand along the opposite side of his face and neck to turn him back so that he has to look at you. "You are one of my most favorite people." And you give him a beautifully warm smile.

"Yeah? What about Charles? You seem to fancy him a lot," Arthur mutters stubbornly, a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

"Well, of course I do, he’s amazing," you joke, trying to lighten the mood and get him to smile back at you. "But he’s no 'Arthur Morgan'".

"Good thing for him," he huffs in annoyance.

"Depends on who you ask," you say with a grin before reaching up on your toes and pulling him down to you to kiss his cheek. This act causes Arthur's self-loathing thoughts to halt in his mind, if even for a brief moment, which is what you were hoping to do. Arthur feels that with you, he has finally found something in his life that is pure and good. He stares into your eyes, searching for the doubt that he believes has to be there somewhere. But while he knows that you do, in fact, see him differently than the others do, it is also painfully obvious to Arthur that you clearly see his violent tendencies, whether you admit it or not. He honestly wants nothing more than to wrap his palms around your soft face right now and kiss your sweet lips. He'd love to show you that he’s more than a hammer; he has softness and vulnerability. He knows this because he's become all too aware of it since he's met you. He'd simply love to hold you so tightly to him that you’d never go. But he can’t. That's not fair. To you…or to him, for that matter.

Arthur reaches up and holds your hand that is still on his face for a moment before slowly pulling it away with a sigh and dropping it, his eyes lowered and fixated on your shoes. The anger that had welled up in him has passed at this point, and is now replaced with simple disappointment. "C’mon, let’s go," he says so softly that you almost don't hear it.

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

Back at camp, you feel just awful. You know how sensitive Arthur is. Ironically, he comes across as the meanest one in the gang, yet he’s probably the most sensitive one out of all of them. His self-doubt is almost equivalent to his physical size, being all-consuming of him. But once you say something, you can't unsay it, now can you? You wanted Arthur to feel like he always at least has you on his side. But now, you may have alienated yourself to be just like everyone else. And it’s a feeling that you do not like. You like being special to Arthur. Because he has become so very special to you.

Its been two days since you and Arthur went into town and he hasn't spoken to you since the ride back. This morning Mr. Pearson had asked for someone to go out hunting for more meat and Arthur jumped at the chance to get out of the camp. Currently, you are at one of the tables in the shade, sewing up a tear in one of Javier's jackets. Its one his favorites and he asked if you could try to save it for him. Off to the side, Micah is outside of his tent, watching you with great interest before he saunters over to you where you sit working, seeing an opportunity to approach you with Arthur out of the way.

"What’s a-matter, my little Princess? You and Morgan have a spat?" Micah asks you with condescending concern.

Rolling your eyes, you huff out "I am not your 'princess'. What do you want, Micah?"

"Nothin’, just happen to notice that you and Morgan are usually fawning all over each other and now it seems he can’t stand to be around you. Troubles?" he cocks his head to the side a little as his eyes rake over your frame. "'Cause if you need a shoulder to cry on, (Y/N), I’m always here for you," as he exaggeratedly places his hand over his heart.

"Micah Bell, there is a time and a place for your mouth. And just so you know, it’s never and nowhere," you answer his advances flatly, barely looking up from your stitching as you address him.

Your sarcasm makes the smug smile under his mustache droop a little in annoyance. "You think you’re so smart 'cause you have that dumb-ass Morgan wrapped around your finger, don't you?" he retorts.

"No, I was smart before I met him. But thanks for noticing," you say with a mocking smile, finally looking Micah square in the face. "I’d love to continue this conversation, Micah, but, and I really can’t stress this enough, I really don’t want to." And with that, you gather up your things and stand to walk away from the weaselly man.

"One of these days you’ll realize I ain’t all that bad, Miss (Y/L/N)," he calls after you.

"Won't that be the day!" You reply over your shoulder as you head over to where Hosea is sitting across the camp. You know that Micah won't follow you if you are with Hosea, as opposed to sitting with the other women in group. Micah sucks his front teeth before spitting into the grass at his feet, watching you walk away, his eyes fixated on the slight hypnotic sway of your hips.

"The man giving you grief?" Hosea asks, nodding towards Micah when he sees you approaching. "No more than usual," you answer tiredly as you sit down next to him. "It'll be fine," you dismiss the interaction, but yet Micah's comments still ring in your ears, making you think about what you are going to do now. Micah has a point. You don’t want to let it happen, but your heart is quickly being lost to Arthur. You know that now. There are reasons why you can’t be together, and you're trying to come to terms with that. But either way, you still don't like the distance between you and Arthur at the moment. So you decide to do something about it. After about twenty minutes of weighing your options, you stand again and nod to Hosea as you head over to Javier to ask him to take you back into town for an errand.

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

It is late in the afternoon when you and Javier get back and you hurry to get the horses hitched and find Arthur. Fortunately, he is back from hunting with Charles by now and is sitting in his tent. You can see him set upon on his cot, cleaning his rifle from its use this morning.

You approach his tent with a bounce in your step, eager to talk to him, and wrack your knuckles as a knock on the wooden frame of a crate that sits just outside his living space. "Can I come in and talk to you a sec?" you ask Arthur, peering your face inside the shadowy space to see him.

"I’m not really in the mood," he grunts out, not even looking up at you as he continues to work his rag over the chamber of the rifle.

"Too bad," you smirk as you float inside the tent and sit down next to him on the cot. "Oh, well by all means come on in and sit, then," he huffs irritably finally taking his eyes off the gun and looking at you, annoyance clearly displayed in his expression. You sit with your hands behind your back, a huge guilty grin on your face.

"I got you something," you smile as you pull your hands forward and present him with a package. Its wrapped in brown paper with a simple twine string around it and tied in a bow with a small bundle of delicate yellow buttercups tucked into it. Arthur hesitantly takes the bundle of brown paper from your hands as you eagerly thrust it towards his lap. You watch him intensely, hardly able to contain your anticipation. Sighing, he guardedly unwraps the object to see a beautiful leather journal underneath the paper. You hold your hands up to your mouth, letting out a slight squeal like an excited child as you watch his reaction. The book is a smooth milky brown leather with the edges woven with a dark cord. His initials have been burned into the cover. Arthur sits stunned before he slowly runs his calloused hands over the soft material, his fingertips lingering over the letters, tracing the lines.

His jaw gapes slightly. "What’s this for?" he asks you, his voice soft and quiet.

"Do you like it?" you pose back. "I noticed that you seem to be at the end of the journal you have now, so it must be getting full. You’ll need a new one soon, yeah?" Arthur lifts his face, tearing his eyes from the journal and just stares at you in disbelief. The idea that you have been paying that close of attention to him is beyond him, let alone that you would present him with such a gift as this.

"You seem to be the most at peace when you’re buried in those pages of yours," you explain. "So if you’re worried about losing your humanity with this life, Arthur, then I want you to be able to easily find it again." He looks back to the journal in his hands and simply nods to you to acknowledge the understanding of your statement.

"I don’t think you’re as cruel as you say, Arthur. I really don’t," you continue, your excitement ebbing now into a more calm tone.

"I know you don’t, (Y/N). And I want you to know that I appreciate that. But you didn’t have to bring me this to prove it," says Arthur, his voice laden with a slight guilt to it.

"I know. But I wanted to," you reassure him. After a brief moment, you proceed, needing to get something off your chest. "Arthur, you need to understand, I am not perfect," your tone becoming a bit more serious now. "I say and do the wrong things all the time and I’m sorry for that." You put your hands over one of his large ones that is still holding the book as a way to confirm your heartfelt apology. "Come on," you say suddenly to change the subject to something more cheerful. "Let’s go get something to eat," and you nudge your head towards the tables and the crowd starting to gather there for dinner.

"Give me a minute, would ya? I’ll meet you over there," Arthur says to you, finally smiling at you.

"OK sure," you answer, standing up, relieved to be on speaking terms again.

"(Y/N)? Did you mean what you said the other day?" His question stops you just as you are about to exit the tent, and you look at him confused as to what he means. "About me being your favorite?" You can hear the hesitation in his voice, even as he vocalizes it. Arthur's fingers drum subconsciously on the leather book in his lap, waiting for your answer.

"Sure did," you beam back at him. You watch happily as his shoulders settle with your response, his face relaxing into almost a boyish grin. "Don’t take too long in here," you point your finger at him scoldingly, changing the subject yet again. "I don’t want Micah sitting next to me and taking your spot." "No, Ma'am", he replies resolutely. When you are sure he means it, you turn and head out and over to the tables to join everyone else.

A smile widens across Arthur's face as he watches you go. Eventually his eyes cast down to his lap again as he mulls over your gift. He reaches over to his small table next to his cot and picks up the pencil sitting there and opens up the book cover. A soft sigh escapes over his sun-chapped lips as he runs his rough hand over the crisp pristine-white paper before he starts to scratch the graphite tip of his pencil over it.

The first thing Arthur writes in his new journal is about how you gave him this book. He writes the date in the corner of his entry and begins to spill forth onto the white plane the words from his mind that he can't vocalize. For whatever reason, Arthur may have a hard time articulating his thoughts to a person, but he has always been able to write them out effortlessly. He considers this one of his true gifts and fortunately Hosea was quick to focus on it when Arthur was young. He doesn't know where he'd be if he didn't have this outlet for himself.

'The damnedest thing just happened. (Y/N) and I have been at odds over the last few days, probably my fault if I have to admit. In town the other day she made a scene about how rough and tough I am. It should have made me proud, I guess. But to be honest, I was hoping she'd see me as a real man, not some tool to be used. Its silly, I know. Considering what we do and what she's seen, I can't say that I blame her. Yet, I know its different with her anyways. In fact it must be. She just brought me this new book for my journaling as a peace offering. She didn't have to do that. I would've forgiven her, either way. No way I can ever stay mad at (Y/N). But she seemed right upset about the whole thing, so I accepted her gift without fighting about it. Its odd, as I can't even remember the last time someone made such a fuss over my worthless hide. I almost feel special. Imagine that. Things seem OK now, which I'm happy for. I have no idea what I did to deserve her good graces, but I am thankful for it. Maybe there’s hope for me yet.'

Arthur looks up from the last sentence, gazing out across the camp and he can see you sitting at the table, already laughing with Karen and Tilly. Beneath the new journal entry, he begins to sketch a portrait of you as he sees you currently, but just of your face, which is sitting in the palm of your hand at the moment. Arthur's pencil almost glides of its own accord across the paper, quickly reproducing the big smile and twinkling eyes that he could draw from memory at this point. This is certainly not the first sketch of you he has done. Your image in various states is scattered about within the pages of his previous journal. And it most certainly will not be the last, either.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader fluff

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madixkiwi · 11 months

Text

Pressure (Chapter 3)

Miguel O'Hara x Reader (fem)

Word Count: 2.8k

Description: Miguel and Y/N are in an established relationship. As the events of "Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse" gradually unfold, conflict arises between the couple. Miguel is a complicated man with the fate of the multiverse riding on his shoulders. Y/N is a Spider-Society technician with a big heart and strong morals.

______________________________________________________________

“Yo, this place is wild!” Miles said as he took in the incredible sight before him. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she watched him look around in awe, approaching the dock he and his friends arrived in with brisk steps. Jess waved at Y/N and led the others towards her.

“Hey, guys, what have you all been up to?” Y/N asked once she was close enough to the group.

“Nothin’ much,” Hobie answered.

“Oh, you know…” Gwen laughed awkwardly, avoiding a conversation about what happened in Pavitr’s universe a few minutes ago.

Jess glanced at Y/N with a knowing look. “It’s a long story, you’ll hear all about it soon enough.”

“Oh, alright,” Y/N chuckled and faced the new kid. “Hi, new guy! What’s your name?”

“Uh, Miles,” he responded.

“Alright, Miles, I’m Y/N,” the group stopped walking forward when they reached the end of the dock. Y/N gestured to the expanse of the building that was crawling with other Spider-People. “Welcome to Spider-Society!”

Miles’ jaw dropped. Thousands of Spiders occupied the floors, walls, and ceiling; it was truly a sight to behold.

“Come on, guys. Miguel wants to see you,” Jess began walking in step with Y/N, who nodded in agreement with her friend.

“It’s actually my job to take you to him. Follow me, everyone.” It wasn’t very often that Y/N had the opportunity to walk through the magnificent building, for she and Margo were always cooped up in the control room. Almost every face was familiar to her, and she received a plethora of greetings from everyone she passed.

As the small group walked together, Miles began to glitch out. Jess stopped in her tracks and rolled her eyes, fishing for a wristband in her pocket. “Here,” she said, tossing the band in Miles’ direction. He caught it with ease.

“Woah, my own watch!” He gasped.

“It’s a day pass,” Y/N clarified.

“It’ll keep you from-” Jess was cut off by the sound of Miles glitching again. He slid his band onto his wrist and the glitching stopped. “-doing that.”

They ran into Peter Parkedcar shortly after that, and Jess instructed him to deal with a “spot mess”.

“I wouldn't call it a mess, more like a success in progress,” Miles suggested.

Y/N looked at Jess for some elaboration. “What are you guys talking about?”

“You mean Miguel hasn’t told you?” Jess seemed genuinely surprised.

“Nope, nothing.”

Jess almost told Y/N everything, but she got distracted upon seeing Ben Reilly in the hallway. “One sec, Y/N. Ben, I need-”

“Sorry, I can’t talk right now,” Ben began dramatically. “I’m thinking about my past.”

“Actually, we need you here for some reason.”

Ben groaned and threw himself onto the nearest structure. Jess and Y/N remained unphased by the action, but the kids behind them were a little thrown off. The group continued their walk across HQ, and Lyla joined them when they made it to the room containing all of the captured anomalies. Y/N tried coaxing any information out of Jess that she could, but something always prevented her from telling the full story.

Y/N said “hi” to Margo and let her take on the role of explaining the Go Home Machine to Miles. “Jess, please, I’m dying here,” she pleaded with her friend.

Jess looked at Lyla, and they shared a look that Y/N couldn’t read properly. “Look, Y/N, you know I love you.”

“Yeahhh?”

“Which is why it’s been so hard to keep this from you. But Miguel specifically said not to tell you about this.”

Y/N’s expression dropped. “Oh, so Miguel put you up to this. He doesn’t want me to know what’s going on?”

“Y/N, come on-”

“Hey, don’t worry. I know it’s not your fault… It’s just frustrating.”

“I can only imagine.” Jess’ sympathy was written all over her face.

The conversation concluded when Miles, Hobie, and Gwen started walking back towards the grown ups. Lyla disappeared for a second and then came back with a smirk on her face. “Miguel sounds hungry,” she declared.

“He likes those empanadas from the cafeteria,” Jess added.

Normally, Y/N would have specified the details of Miguel’s food order, but the thought of him stung too much to dwell on. She clenched her jaw and stared at the floor as the group made a detour to order an empanada, a sort of peace offering for Miles to give Miguel.

Meanwhile, Miguel watched all of them from one of his monitors, paying close attention to Y/N’s behavior. He frowned before collecting a vile of the solution that gave him his powers, inserting it into a unique syringe and injecting himself with the green liquid. Videos of the life he shared with his daughter flashed on the other screens surrounding him, reminding him of the past and worsening his mood. The life he desperately wanted for himself taunted him with its unattainability; although, he would have never met Y/N if that universe never collapsed.

***

The door to his room opened abruptly. Miguel started moving his platform downwards towards the floor. He knew that Hobie, Miles and Gwen stood waiting for him in the doorway. He didn’t expect Y/N to be standing next to them, though, protecting the kids from the full extent of his temper. Jess had sent her in with them to act as a cushion.

“Te traje una empanada,” Miles held up the food he had picked up for Miguel from the cafeteria.

Miguel shot his webs at the container, slinging the box directly into his hand. “Que maravilla,” he responded. His voice was emotionless. He looked over at Y/N for a split second, taking note of the sadness in her expression.

“Listen,” Miles continued. “I’m really excited to get going-”

“Oh, great.”

“I have some fresh new ideas on how to catch the Spot.” Y/N’s interest was piqued when the “spot” was brought up.

Miguel didn’t allow his demeanor to falter, but he internally panicked when Miles mentioned the secret that he had kept hidden from Y/N. He knew Y/N would inevitably find out about everything, and she was going to kill him for hiding it from her. Miguel took out his anger regarding the predicament on Miles, throwing a table at his head. Even though his spider senses allowed for him to dodge the projectile, it was still a low blow in Y/N’s opinion. “He’s worried about Spot,” Miguel mumbled. Then his voice grew increasingly louder. “I’ll worry about Spot!”

“What did I do?”

“Miguel!” Y/N yelled at him disapprovingly.

Gwen stood in front of Miles. “It’s not his fault.”

“You blew another hole in the multiverse!” Miguel snarled.

“He doesn’t know any better!”

Y/N jumped in to support Gwen. “Calm down, Miguel! He’s just a kid!”

“Stay out of this,” Miguel snapped. Y/N felt shivers run down her spine. He had never spoken to her like that before. Something about the red glow in his eyes and the venom in his voice scared her.

Miguel turned back to Gwen. “You knew better, Gwen. And you-” He turned to address Hobie, who couldn’t have cared less about what Miguel was saying. “I was gonna try to ignore you, but I just can’t.”

Miles looked from Gwen, to Y/N, to Hobie, to Miguel. “What’s happening?” He asked.

“Hey, Miguel, go easy on the kid. He had a terrible teacher,” Peter B’s voice entered the conversation like a saving grace. Y/N whipped around in excitement; Peter was one of her closest friends, and she absolutely adored his daughter.

“Peter?”

“Peter-”

“Peter!”

“Oh boy, humbling reality Spider-Man has arrived.”

Miles ran up to his mentor and gave him a hug.

“Don’t be afraid of my friend Miguel,” Peter began. “He just looks scary, he’s got no bite.”

“You sure about that?” Y/N questioned playfully.

Peter’s grin grew wider when he saw her. “Hey, there’s my favorite normie!”

Miguel turned his back to the group, jealous of Y/N’s enthusiasm for Peter. “Peter,” He spat under his breath.

“Wow, everyone’s here, this is great!”

“Hey, Peter, what’s that?” Miles pointed at the vacant baby carrier that was strapped over Peter’s shoulders. Mayday’s joyous screams answered Miles’ inquiry. She swung through the room with her webs, climbing on the walls in true Peter B. Parker fashion.

“You have a baby?” Miles watched as she happily explored the room. Peter chased after her, and Miguel rubbed his forehead in annoyance. He mumbled incoherent sounds to himself in an attempt to remain collected. His moment was interrupted by Mayday climbing onto his shoulders. Peter swung next to Miguel and showed him some of her baby pictures.

“I’m trying to hold a serious adult conversation,” Miguel dismissed Peter’s antics.

“You know, you’re the only Spider-Man that isn’t funny. We’re supposed to be funny,” Peter reminded him.

“The fate of the multiverse-”

“You always lose me with that. You say, ‘The fate of the multiverse,’ and my brain dies.”

Mayday fell into Miguel’s arms, and he handed her off to her father.

Miguel took a deep breath and returned to the original topic of conversation. “Miles, you disrupted a canon event.” Y/N noticed that the bags under his eyes were darker than usual.

“Canon event?” Miles repeated.

Peter chimed back in, “The kid wasn’t thinking. That’s not how he works.”

Miles frowned. “That’s insulting. Wait,” he faced Miguel. “What are you so upset about? I saved those people.”

Miguel jumped down from his platform. “And that’s the problem. Lyla, do the thing.”

Lyla appeared next to him. “Huh, what thing?” She teased.

“What do you mean ‘what thing’? The information explainy thing.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

Suddenly the entire room was covered in a holographic projection. Miguel looked over at Y/N once more, but she was too busy admiring Lyla’s work to notice. Miguel then went on to explain how the multiverse worked to Miles. He covered the importance of canon events, and he detailed why Miles’ shouldn’t have saved inspector Singh’s life back in Pavitr’s universe. According to Miguel, Pavitr’s dimension was currently unraveling, and it was Miles’ fault.

“That’s what happens when you break the canon,” Miguel stated.

“How do you know?” Miles’ question caused Miguel to pause. Y/N stared at him, concerned about how he would react to such a sensitive subject.

Miguel looked at Miles with a somber expression. “Because I broke it once myself.” He went on to detail the truth that he happened to learn about the hard way. Lyla replayed the footage of Miguel’s last moments with his daughter. He was frantically trying to run away from the destruction that chased him as the little girl clung to his suit. She eventually glitched into nothingness while Miguel helplessly watched. Y/N almost started crying when she saw Miguel’s reaction to the loss of his child. She looked over at her partner and noticed that he wasn’t watching the replay.

“You break enough canon and save enough captains, and we could lose everything,” Miguel told Miles.

Miles took a moment to process Miguel’s words. “My dad is about to be captain,” he said. Suddenly he began to stagger and pull on his hair. “Spot does it… he kills him. When does it happen?”

Miguel avoided Miles’ gaze.

“When does it happen?” He demanded.

“In two days. When he’s sworn in.” Miguel claims.

Lyla popped up next to Miguel for support. “That’s what the model says.”

“I’m sorry Miles.”

Miles’ breathing is staggered. “Send me home.”

Miguel sighs. “I can’t do that. Not now.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let him die?”

Miguel gives him a look that says, “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

Miles turns around and faces Gwen. “What about your dad? He’s a captain, right?”

“Yeah,” is all Gwen responds with.

“And that’s it? You just aren’t going to do anything about it?” The whole room is silent. “Okay, what about Uncle Ben? Would that have been okay if you knew and you just let it play out?”

Peter reached out and rested a hand on Miles’ arm. “If not for Uncle Ben, most of us wouldn’t be here, Miles. And all the good we did, it wouldn’t have been done.”

“So we’re just supposed to let people die because some algorithm says that that’s supposed to happen? You realize how messed up that sounds, right?”

Y/N understood where Miles was coming from. Suddenly, every piece of information that had been deliberately hidden from her was fitting together like matching puzzle pieces. The Spot was the anomaly that Miguel was concerned about, and Miles had somehow gotten entangled in his mess. They ended up in Pavitr’s universe, where Miles disrupted the canon. Y/N was well aware of how the canon worked, and she knew it was unfair. It had been cruel to every Spider-Person.

Currently, she was on Miles’ side. No one could realistically expect him to let his father die when his death could easily be prevented. The containment teams didn’t always manage to save unraveling dimensions, but sometimes they did. If it were up to her, then every Spider in the building would work hard at finding a way to save Miles’ father and his universe. Unfortunately, Miguel was the one who called the shots, and he was inherently narrow minded.

“You have a choice between saving one person and saving an entire world- every world.” Miguel said.

Miles shook his head. “I can do both! Spider-Man always-”

“Not always.” Peter looked heartbroken as hundreds of Spiders gathered around the group. They all came to support Miguel, and to remind Miles that he wasn’t alone.

“Miles,” Miguel continued. “We all want to live the life we wished we had. Believe me, I’ve tried. And the harder I tried, the more damage I did.” His eyes finally met with Y/N’s again. They briefly shared an expression of immense grief. ”Being Spider-Man is a sacrifice. That’s the job. That’s what you signed up for.”

Miles looked around at the people that surrounded him. “What is this?” His voice trembled. “Is this an intervention or something? You can’t ask me not to save my father.”

“I’m not asking.” Miguel slid a device on the floor that imprisoned Miles in a projection of red light.

“Miguel!” Y/N had had enough of standing in the background. She ran over to Miguel and grabbed his arm. “Let him go, Miguel. He’s too young to understand!” She didn’t really believe that, but she wanted Miguel to let him off easy.

“Stop it!” Gwen yelled. Peter tried persuading Miguel to let Miles go as well.

Miguel closed his eyes. “If we let him leave, then he’ll only do more damage. You all know that.”

“This can’t be the only way,” Y/N concluded. She tugged at Miguel’s arm desperately. “Don’t do this, Miguel, he’s a child. Please, don’t do this.”

He ignored Y/N’s pleas. “I just need to hold you for a few days,” he told Miles.

Hobie looked at Y/N from across the room, and then he looked at Miles. He started walking over to him, and Y/N had an idea of what he was planning. “Don’t ignore me!” She tried her best to distract Miguel. “That’s all you ever do nowadays. You don’t even care about me anymore, do you?”

Y/N hadn’t intended to say something so harsh, but it managed to successfully distract Miguel for a moment. “Is that what you really think?” The hurt in his voice was extremely apparent. Y/N instantly regretted what she said. She moved her hands from his arm to cover her mouth.

“Miguel, I-” A wave of electricity swept across the room with a static jolt. Miguel instinctively grabbed Y/N and pulled her towards him, shielding her with his body. When everyone looked back towards the center of the room, they saw Miles free from the containment chamber. Without wasting any time Miles bolted out the door. Miguel immediately chased after him, leaping forward with intensity. He left Y/N behind without a second thought, leaving her on the cold floor. All of the other people in the room began to chase after Miles as well.

A few moments later, Y/N heard Miguel’s voice over the overhead speakers again. “All stations, stop what you’re doing and stop Spider-Man.” Confused conversation buzzed throughout the building. “Ay, coño, Miles! Miles Morales! He’s entering sector 4!”

Y/N picked herself up and rushed over towards the control room. If Miles wanted to go home, then he would have to use the Go Home Machine. As she ran through the empty halls, she silently hoped that Miles would make it back where he belonged, and she prayed that Miguel would forgive her for what she said.

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strawberryblue-blog · 11 months

Text

Say that again. Part 2. —Mason Mount

warning: a little of angst, curses.

words: +3k

#sexynote: thank you sm for the support <3 More is coming soon ;) xoxo

8 months later.

Returning to London was a difficult decision to make. Especially when you had left everything behind, with thousands of doubts and uncertainty, not knowing what would happen.

It was no secret that what hurt you the most was leaving Mason, after that night of your goodbye, you never saw him again. And you could still feel your skin crawl at the memory of his confession and his wish for you not to leave. But it was your decision and you were as eager as anyone to leave England to start a new life in Norway.

Every day that passed, you were convinced that you had already forgotten Mason and after so many months, he would have forgotten you too. It was obvious that his was a whim, as it had always been.

The flight home was pretty smooth and quick, excited to see your friends again. Sophia would be waiting for you at the airport and the anxiousness made you shiver as you walked through the gate carrying your things, expecting to see your best friend on the other side and just as you imagined, there she was. You ran to her and grabbed her in a big hug when she opened her hands to receive you, wrapping you in a big, warm embrace.

"I missed you so much," she squealed happily, still turning in her embrace.

"Me too, darling" you kissed her cheek softly.

"What about me?" you heard someone's manly voice speak. Of course he had come. He never let his girlfriend go anywhere alone.

"Mr. Havertz"you greeted with a laugh, jumping into his arms.

"Hi, little bug" you whispered, slipping into his embrace. "I almost didn't recognize you".

"It's only been eight months, Kai," you tapped his shoulder gently.

"It's been a long time since you left, bug". You smiled a little, nodding.

"Well, we're leaving now," your friend took your hand, leading you to the exit. Her boyfriend snorted at having to be the one to take all your stuff, and don't lie, it was kind of funny.

You arrived at his house after a trip full of questions and answers from both of you, especially Sophia, who wanted to know everything about your trip and your new life. You were very excited to see your friends and your parents again, who you missed like nobody else.

"Tomorrow is the game, will you come," asked Kai when they were having dinner. "I'll see my parents," you said, denying. "Maybe I'll see you later"

Sophia gave you a glimpse of complicity. Kai didn't know what had happened with Mason, you never told him and you really hoped Mason hadn't told him anything. You knew Kai was protective, he wouldn't choose you or Mason, but putting the pressure on him to know what happened between you wasn't something you wanted for their relationship, as Kai and Mason were good friends and work colleagues.

After dinner, Kai went upstairs to take a shower while you and Sophia stayed after dinner, drinking a last glass of wine.

Your friend didn't broach the subject and you were grateful she was so empathetic to you because coming back home had already upset your stomach and talking about Mason would make everything worse.

So you stayed up late chatting, trying to hide the urge to ask about him that you had. You'd only seen a couple of news stories about the club and that he was dating a famous girl, but you never inquired because you didn't want to go back to your past.

(...)

The next morning you woke up and had breakfast with your friends, still talking about so many things that had happened since you had returned. You were waiting for your mother's message that she would pick you up, but after a while, you were still waiting.

"We're leaving now," Sophia announced from the door of your room.

"See you later," you waved. "Try to score a goal for me," you squealed to Kai when he stuck his head out.

"I will," he said proudly, making you smile. -See you later, right?

You nodded, raising your hand to dismiss him. You went back to lie in bed waiting for news from your mother, so after a while you decided to call him.

"Honey!" she squealed happily.

"Hi mom, I'm here waiting for you for lunch" you said quickly.

"Oh, honey" she said somewhat disappointed. "Your father had forgotten we had a golf game and I didn't let you know."

"Really, Mom?" you snorted.

"Honey, we talked on video call yesterday and you'll be staying for almost two months. We'll have time to catch up and cuddle a lot" I commented amused.

You smiled as you heard your father's call from afar.

"It's okay, Mom" you agreed. "Call me when they're done."

"Peter, honey, T/n on the phone!" she shrieked towards your father. "He's about to play, see you honey!"

You laughed with a laugh as you heard your dad say something to your mom that you couldn't understand. You really missed your parents and it was true, you still had a lot of time to catch up. Going back to London had really made your head a mess, full of nostalgia.

You snorted, dropping the phone as you stared at the ceiling. Now what would you do? You closed your eyes trying to think.

I need you. I've always liked you.

Mason's words echoed in your head and the memories of that day came back to your mind.

You brought your hand to your chest as your heart began to pound. Don't think so hard, your subconscious said.

And just as you thought, you got up and grabbed your bag quickly, heading out to the street. You called for a cab and it didn't take you long to get to the city party. The streets were decorated in that tone blue you liked so much, people walking in them wearing club shirts, you could even read a few with your name on them.

Everything was just as you remembered.

You called Sophia and told her what had happened, so she quickly came for you at the entrance of the stadium.

You didn't even know why you had come. You just wanted to feel again what you had felt a long time ago. Your ears filled with the chorus of the stands at full volume, while the screams could be heard for miles. Your skin crawled as your eyes focused on the field, trying to find the one person you had come for.

That's when your eyes found him.

Number 19 in the center of the field.

You sighed settling into your seat as Sophia's hand took yours squeezing it, as your friend could see how you were somewhat distant from the new feeling.

The match was quite intense for both, hopefully the match would end with a victory for the blues. Your eyes hadn't stopped following number 19 since you had arrived, trying to meet his gaze but you knew he wouldn't look at you. He didn't even know you were back in London, not even that you were in the same stadium as him.

When the referee blew the final whistle, you stood up from your place, ready to go to the car to wait for your friends. Among the people you tried to walk, when a premonition echoed in your chest. Out of the corner of your eye you turned your head slightly, meeting those eyes for the first time.

Those deep black eyes staring back at you from the center of the court, recognizing you in the crowd. Mason stood static for a few moments and though you did too, you lowered your head to keep walking. The heart in your chest was beginning to pound as the urge to cry came over you.

You ended up in the aisles of the stadium on the verge of tachycardia for remembering what had happened that night. His lips on yours, his words, his touch. You hadn't felt anything like that since you left and you were sure you'd never feel it again, but you couldn't let him win this fight.

The hustle and bustle of the crowd began to die down as you moved deeper into the corridors, you picked up the phone to call your friend, trying to find your way out, you had forgotten how to escape this place. A jolt to your body made you stop, someone else had bumped into you as you were trying to read the exit signs.

"I'm sorry" apologized the other person.

And suddenly, you stopped breathing.

There it was. The one person who was capable of taking your breath away. The person you were most afraid to meet. Was the universe against you?

Why didn't you stop, why didn't you apologize and act like a normal person, why didn't your body seem to connect with your mind, why didn't your body seem to connect with your mind?

"Y/n..." he whispered.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Slowly you began to turn around, seeing him standing there in front of you. He was still wearing his team outfit, his hair damp and his face somewhat exhausted.

He looked so gorgeous.

"Hello, Mason" you greeted simply. You waited for a response but he didn't say anything else, he just stood static as he had a few moments ago.

"I have to go, it was nice to see you again" you forced yourself to smile a little, masking the ache in your chest.

All this time you thought you were over him but deep in your heart you knew, you could never forget Mason. Every day that passed you tried to move on, but leaving him that night hadn't been easy. And seeing him again wasn't either.

You turned away from your spot again, starting to walk slowly away from Mason. You were surprised to hear nothing more from him.

Why wasn't he saying anything? Wasn't he going to stop you? Had he given up on love?

Had he given up on you? Your heart shattered.

Maybe Mason had forgotten you, maybe he had found that person. He didn't love you anymore. Maybe he never had.

You had come back just for him.

You wanted to stop lying to yourself and your friends or family. You had come back to London just for Mason.

You wanted him back. But you lost him.

You were tired of running away from him and you wanted to tell him everything... but it was too late. Mason had forgotten you.

He had moved on.

You quickly turned to see him and your eyes filled with tears as you saw his back receding down the hallway.

Now it was he who was running away from you.

"Mason!" you screamed at the top of your lungs.

Please stop. You wanted to scream for him.

A tear spilled down your cheek when he wouldn't stop.

"Stop, Mason!" you begged again. "Please"

And when you least expected it, he stopped.

Your steps were giant as you walked toward him, charged in courage and bravery.

You weren't going to run away again. Head held high and heart pounding, you weren't going to let him go.

You reached Mason in a matter of seconds, who still had his back turned but as you sensed behind him, he gently spun around. His face was uneasy, his gaze dull, a sad grimace in his expression

"You won't say anything?" you asked.

Mason lifted his shoulders dejectedly.

"All right, I'll do the talking."

You didn't mind standing in the middle of the hallway cause you had so much to say. You wouldn't stand another minute with so much on your chest.

"I'm sorry" you started. "I never wanted to leave, Mason. But I had to" you said sure. "I couldn't stay when I didn't know what I felt or wanted but I know I hurt you and maybe you hate me and that's okay."

You sighed to find more courage than you already had.

"I should have called or even said something but I didn't know if what you had said that night was true, we were drunk and you had always played with me, I was scared..."

You loved Mason. You love Mason. More then anyone.

You had realized that since you had run away from him that day. While you were taking the flight, when you met your new friends, when you went to your new college, even when you were with other men. You had always loved him.

"I love you, Mason" you confessed to his bright gaze. "I know it's late, but i don't want to leave without telling you."

The words had come like a song from your mouth and now you felt the emptiness in your chest. But the pain was still there.

Mason hadn't said a word other than to look at you with his lost gaze and droopy eyes.

It's okay. You thought holding back tears, you didn't want a show in the middle of the halls of state.

You deserve it. You thought again.

Determined, you turned to, this time, leave the place for good.

But you couldn't.

The gentle touch of his warm hand stopped you by the forearm and memories took you back to that night.

That night that had changed everything.

You even went ahead of him and desperately your lips impacted with his, joining us in a perfect kiss. His lips felt just as you had imagined a million times when you were far away.

Soft, warm and delicious like the first time you had kissed them.

His large hands settled on your waist pulling you as close to his body as possible while yours embraced his muscular back, squeezing it as you felt the comfort of being in his arms again.

The rhythm of the kiss had gained intensity as the minutes passed, your lips seeking no rest as they needed each other more and more after so long. It was as if their bodies had become glued together from the electricity that coursed through them in their reconciliation kiss.

"Say that again" you asked as he did that night. "Say you can't let me go, Mason and i won't leave" you begged in a whisper remembering his words.

"I can't let you go, Y/n" he said against your lips. His forehead resting against yours as his nose nuzzled yours.

Because you didn't plan on leaving again. You knew the moment you saw Mason Mount again, you couldn't leave him.

And you were sure that this time, you would stay by his side.

PD: 2:30 in the morning and here i am writing for you. I hope you enjoy it, thanks for your support!!!!!

More imagines are coming soon, stay tuned <3

#mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount #football imagines #football one shot #chelsea football club #christian pulisic #kai havertz #imagine #joao felix x reader

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evilwickedme · 1 year

Note

Hi there!! Just saw your post ranking interpretations of spiderman based on how jewish they are. (Great post 10/10 btw.) At one point you say Spiderman's ethos and values are very Jewish -- as non-Jewish person who doesnt know that much about Jewish culture, I was curious what you were refering to more specifically! Thats potentially a long post so you don't have to answer if that's too complicated haha but I'd love to learn more :))

Hey thank you so much for asking (and for liking my post)! You're right in thinking this is a complicated topic but I love answering complicated questions so you're good :D

That said I'm not going to detail every part of Spider-Man's Jewishness, just because... Honestly, there's a lot. Recently I posted a TikTok on an aspect of his Jewishness I won't even be lightly touching on in this answer. But just because I can't and won't cover everything doesn't mean you can't learn anything at all, so let's focus on the Big One -

Responsibility.

Responsibility is a big part of Peter Parker's story, and by extension and as a result nearly every Spider Person has been burdened with it. Peter Parker is given great power, and therefore has great responsibility, we know this.

(Amazing Fantasy #15)

I think it's interesting the way that this was attributed to Uncle Ben in most of later canon and in subsequent adaptations*, because Uncle Ben does not - and CAN not, for the story to work - know that Peter has superpowers when he tells him this.

(*with the exception of the MCU, the least Jewish of the Peter Parkers...)

But if Uncle Ben isn't telling him this as a warning to use his superpowers wisely, then what could it possibly be referring to?

Everything.

Because a person doesn't have to have superpowers to have great power. This is true in the big sense - politicians and CEOs and your high school principal all holding extreme leverage over the rest of us - but more importantly, more relevantly, we all have a power on the people around us.

Among Jews, we have a phrase, which in Hebrew goes: כל המקיים נפש אחת, מעלים עליו כאילו קיים עולם מלא. In English: anyone who saves a single life, it is on him as if he saved a whole world (adapted from wikipedia's translation of the Mishnah, Sanhedrin chapter 4:5). This is a double edged sword; we are capable of infinite creation, and infinite destruction as well. The phrase is mainly used in the sense of saving a life - you have saved not only that person, but also every person they may help or save or even birth later on. The Sages weren't picturing a superhero when they said this - they were referring to practical matters, and Uncle Ben is doing the same.

By delinking Peter's responsibility from his powers*, the overarching Peter narrative instead positions it as universal - you are alive, therefore you have great power, therefore you have great responsibility. You are a person, therefore you are an entire world. Spiderverse's insistence on the "it could be anyone behind the mask" only makes this argument stronger, in my opinion. The you who is responsible for everything you do is not Peter Parker, it's YOU. You, reading this, have great responsibility. You, reading this, are an entire world.

(*the MCU, in turn, explicitly linking Peter's powers or role as Spider-Man to his responsibility is an extremely early flaw, all the way back in Civil War when he talks around the phrase but we all knew exactly what he meant)

Anyway yeah. By no means comprehensive and not even everything one could say about this particular sub-topic, but, Peter Parker's Jewishness absolutely seeps all the way down to the big Spider-Man thing.

(See this post also as a fuck you to the guy who cried NO NO HE'S NOT JEWISH HE'S RESPONSIBLE!!! as if those two things aren't directly linked lmao)

#jew tag #spiderman #peter parker #judaism #jewish #comics #marvel comics #marvel #spiderverse #gail speaks #ask #forgondor #love ur url fyi #anti mcu #mcu my behated

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juvenillia · 6 months

Text

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 17: complicated

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: Tbh this isn’t one of my best chapters. Just feels like I failed the pacing in here, but somehow it still holds some impact. I hope you like it! anyways I am not in good mood right now, but I’m trying my best to keep everything going. So really thanks for sticking with my story. The next chapter will be really different and more filler, before we’re getting down to the real deal, hehe.

CW/TW: mentions of loss, guilt, violence, jealousy, idiots in love, pinning, teasing, petnames

wordcount: 3.1k

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It was already late at night when the heli had to land through unclear complications. You weren't allowed to set a foot in the sky anymore. Left behind at a countryside. "Rog’, sir.", Simon hung up with Price while shoving his phone back into his pocket. You sat next to Johnny and ignited a fag. "And?", Johnny looked at the taller man. Your duffle bags were placed next to you. They weren't heavy loaded because your mission was a light one after all. "Seems like there was an aircraft grounding." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Price sends a car, we can drive from here." - "We'll need the whole night." Johnny exhaled annoyed, throwing his hands up. "Better than freezing to death in the middle of nowhere.", you stated while breathing out some smoke. "Yer cold?", Simon immediately turned towards you. Shaking your head no, you reached into the pocket to hand him a cigarette. "Just can't cope." He took a fag out of your package, and you gifted him a small smile. He then turned around to smoke while observing the surroundings. Accepting your answer for now. "Wait, isn't Skadi the Nordic goddess for winter?" Johnny looked at you from the side. You took another long drag from your cigarette. "Ironic, isn't it?", you laughed out and the smoke left your throat.

It took some time until two cars arrived at your location. One was for you to take and the other to take the original driver back. You loaded everything in the trunk and Johnny immediately wanted to take the back seat. He already fell asleep in the open, his head resting against your statue, so he wanted to have enough space to get some proper rest. The door was still locked. Simon thanked the guy and took the keys from him. Just then you wanted to take them out of his hand. "What are ya trying?", he flipped his hand with the key away from you. It looked ridiculous how he held the keys up in the air so you wouldn't be able to reach them. "Uhm, to drive, obviously. Thought you were so observant.", you teased him, pushing your hands in your hips again. "Forget it.", he said bluntly looking in your eyes. " 'm drivin'." - "Ya don't want me as co-driver. Believe me.", you looked a bit annoyed, stretching your hand out, open palm for him to lay the keys in. Simon pretended to put the keys in before shamelessly snatching them back and moving to the door that led to the driver's seat. You instantly moved in his way what lead into a genuine chuckle by him. This was a fight of stubbornness at is finest.

Johnny rolled his eyes at the sight, some month ago, when you had such a fight, he was scared if the two of you would end each other. Now he could only watch in annoyed amusement. Ghost could've just ordered you to take the passenger seat, but he knew better than that. "And I don't want ya to drive either.", he leaned a bit closer to you. "Don't make it so bloody complicated.", he breathed out. Anyone would have crumbled under his glare, the only thing you got were goosebumps. Of course, only because of the cold night air. "Damn bonnie, just let him drive. Yer can switch later!", Johnny cried out and you could see the corner of Simon's eyes wrinkle and you exhaled defeated. "Ya gonna regret that decision, darling.", you chimed while going for the passenger seat, a bit defeated but you indeed started to freeze. So, anything that would take you back was kind of alright. Maybe it was even more alright when he was the person taking you back to the base. Simon stood there for a second completely frozen at your words. He wanted to hear you calling him that so bad and now that he did his brain shortly circuit. Feeling how his cheeks became hotter than he was used to. "Lt?!" Johnny's whiney voice pulled him back.

You were about forty-four minutes on the road and Johnny was deep asleep, snoring in the backseat. You and Simon sat in that comforting silence while he drove perfectly fine. His window was pulled down, the fresh air floating through the car. “Tell me, what ‘m going to regret?”, his teasing voice breaking the silence. You hated to admit, but somehow you had no problem with him driving. “Just zip it.”, was your only answer when you fell a bit further into the leather of the seat. From time to time, he would look at you, making sure you were alright.

"Ya know, ya can sleep too...", his voice was so caring, it made you smile. "Don't worry. You won’t get rid of me that easily.", you said jokingly. Your sentence first caught him off-guard. Remembering the last time he heard it, but then he only chuckled silently.

You sometimes rubbed your arms because of the cold breeze and trying to find another position in your seat. You wouldn't dare to ask Simon to close the window. The fresh air helped through late night drives; you knew that to well. "If you want to switch, just say something.", you said softly, always trying to not wake Soap up. He just hummed in appreciation, still he didn't seem to want to switch anytime soon.

After two more hours listening to the calm noises of the radio, Johnny's snoring, and some small interaction with the driver, you slowly felt tiredness wash over your body. Just then you saw a service station from afar. "Mind stopping for a quick break?" Without hesitation he pulled over and used the time to walk a few steps stretching his limbs. Johnny was still gone. You could see Simon standing outside the car as you walked back. He climbed in as soon as he took sight of you. Preventing you from discussing who would drive now. "What's that?", he looked in confusion at the cups in your hands as you took your place again. "That is a special coffee with a chocolate note. The caffeine and sugar helping with staying awake. And a black regular one with sugar, in case you don't want any experiments.", you chimed holding both cups up. He only shook his head in disbelief, but his eyes were relaxed, and he then took the regular one, just because he knew you'd like the one with chocolate more. "And that?", he pointed at a little paper bag in your lap. "A chocolate brownie when our sleeping beauty decides to accompany us again." He laughed at that and pointed in front of you, after you placed the paper bag onto the backseat next to the sleeping Scot.

On the dashboard in front of you was the grey hoodie he wore until now. You haven't even realized he was only wearing his compression shirt. "I don't..." - "Don't make me order ya to not freeze yer arse off." You simply smiled and pulled the hoodie over your head. It was way too big for you, but the warmth it provided was everything you could wish for. His body temperature still clinging to it, same as his scent. It was intoxicating. You hoped it would never leave your nostrils. It almost hurt how desperate you were at this point. He started the engine and went back on the road. Even when it was harder to keep the eyes on the road now. Eyes always trailing to the side view.

You spent a few more minutes in silent before he decided to chat a bit. He couldn't deny that he also got tired, but he'd never admit it. Talking would help keeping both of you awake. Well, listening to you talk would do the job for him. So, he thought what topic to approach. There were a few floating his mind, but he went with the easiest one by now.

"Yer often spent time at McKenna's place?", the question came out of nothing for you, but you didn't mind at all. "Yup. Had nothing to make me actually need to return to Birmingham... so mostly spent the time on leaves in Scotland with Matty, sometimes in London with Randy and well, in Austria with König.", you explained calm. Simon only nodded. There he was again, the intruder. Not only did he now worried about his own teammate getting too close to you, because that would be complicate the work (really no other reason of course…), but there was still that giant asshole. "Another surprise entry I should be prepared for?", his voice was joking, and you just shook your head no. "Meg and König are the only ones left." Your eyes were blurry, once out of exhaustion, second out of sadness and guilt now creeping up to you. He understood, maybe better than anyone. The need of reaching out to you grew once more. How could anyone just touch you so casually then and now, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Still, there was another question burning in his throat. A question that burned in his brain since the accident that haunted his dreams. Since he always saw him glued to your waist. A question he hoped to not have to ask. Would it make things awkward? Matthew didn't want to answer it either. Why did he even need an answer that bad?

You sipped calm at your coffee, while your free hand fidgeted with the hem of the hoodie, pulling it a bit more down. "So...", he started, still unsure if he was allowed to request something so deep in your privacy just so casual, but this decision should be up to you. You waited for him to go on while still sipping on your hot beverage.

"Ya 'nd Konig?", his voice was suddenly so different than before, and the question caught you off guard. You swallowed on the liquid, bringing you to cough. " I shouldn't have asked.", he added abruptly. You just raised your hand at him. "Nah, it's fine. It's just complicated..." you starred into the distance in front of you, and he felt awkward. It was the same answer Matthew gave them before. It should be enough for him. " 's none of my business.", Simon added with a low voice while the grip around the steering wheel tightened. "You asked, and I can answer... it's just nothing I'm proud of.", you admitted calm. Simon didn't want to push you any further, so he decided to just listen. Shoving his complicated thoughts aside to just listen carefully. You fidget even more with the soft fabric in your hands. Why did his clothes feel so much softer than yours? "There was something... but I didn't let it happen. I was too selfish...scared", you started slowly.

Thinking back of all the talks you had with Randy about it. The late-night hours you spend with König figuring it out and ending in pushing him away anyways. "To be honest... I was a completely coward... he was willingly giving me everything I could've asked for and I just...", you swallowed, regret burning in your chest. "I just kinda used him to make myself feel better and then pushed him away when things became more serious..." your voice became a lot lower and more hurt. "Still, he would come back whenever I needed him..." you didn't know why you told him all of that, but it felt right to be with honest with him. He knew about Randy, so why shouldn't he know about König. It just felt right, and you talked like your brain went on autopilot.

"I understand...", his voice became softer again. He did understand, to be too scared to let something good happen. From all the people, how could he not understand? He was the person most scared to let something good happen to him after all. Ghost would always remind him that it was better that way. Ghost was the one pushing the urge to reach out to you down so often. He was the one shoving all the longing away. Still, the answer didn't really sit right with him. He hoped for a 'no, just close mates' kinda answer but knowing that there indeed was something between you two and there still might be something...it bugged him. It made sense, though. Seeing him around you and how natural you reacted to him. His eyes wandered over to you, and he could sense how your brain was working just like his. Did he go too far? Did he make things unnecessarily hard with his request? Everything was so easy going with his team, why got everything complicated when it came to you? Maybe both of you made it unnecessary complicated yourself.

"Can I ask something in return?", your voice was still low but not filled with any regret. He nodded, trying to let his thoughts go straight. "Did Ghost or Simon wanted to know?", you smiled a bit while looking at him. Being the co-driver wasn't even that bad, you could look at him way more often and the tight bodice he wore made it hard not to. He looked at you for a second before averting his gaze back on the street. Who wanted to know? Ghost surely wanted to know, planning ahead if there could be something complicating an operation or even threatening the team’s wellbeing, your wellbeing. Especially when you now had to work with the colonel. But Simon, he wanted to know for much more selfish reasons, reason he couldn't accept. Reasons he wouldn't tell you. "It's complicated...", was his only answer, and you let out a chuckle and nodded. You still couldn't get a grip on it if it was Simon or your Lieutenant talking, especially outside of missions. You knew they were somehow the same person, but still so different. But you would learn, you were willing to learn everything about him, if he would let you.

You pulled the hood of the clothing over your head to shield you a bit more from the cold. "You're the first person... the first one I can talk 'bout all that...", your confession was a quite mumble. The hood over your head should also protect you from showing your burning cheeks. "Since Droplet..." He blinked, his eyes flashed with surprise, constantly switching between your figure and the road. He wanted to say so much, but he couldn't. Every phrase his mind would build sounded wrong to him. Nothing could describe the overwhelming sensation within him. So, he only hummed in appreciation and at the same time cursed himself to miss that chance.

After that you fell back in the usual, comforting silence. Stealing glances at each other when you thought the opposite wouldn't look. Your mind started to wander. Wander to a talk with Randy years ago. How he scolded you for pushing your own luck away the whole time and just to accept your feelings, your attraction towards him, your own happiness. Randy was the first one to see how your glances at König changed back then, how you started to spend more time together. Even if it was only little late-night walks, and how you immediately searched for his presence no matter where you were. Randy knew long time before you could even think about it. And one night everything got out of hand, just because you were so stubborn and needed to prove something. Something you thought you were so right about it, but oh god you were so wrong about it.

Then your mind went back to the talk with König some time ago. How his eyes told you still the same as all those days back then and still he assured you to go for it. But for what? Could he really read you so openly? Was it so obvious? Did your eyes betrayed you anytime you looked at him? Even Johnny teased you about it way too often. Now Matt also started to reassure you. Did your stolen glances give away the feelings you tried to suppress so much? Your eyes wandered over Simon’s figure, and you asked yourself, if that time it would be different. Deep down you knew you had an answer, and it was yes, it will be different. Your logical side told you that he wouldn't let feelings get mixed in with the job, he wouldn't let things get awkward emotionally between the two of you.

So, you'd just wait till this phase is over. Let this little crush vanish with time. You didn't want it to make it any more complicated. You wouldn't let it happen and you thought he wouldn't either. And even if you tried the hardest to not fall asleep, at some point you couldn't handle your heavy eyelids anymore. The warmth and the scent around you providing with nothing more than a familiar feeling of safety. A feeling some people would call home, a feeling Simon provided you all so often, and just like that you drifted away, into a dream, into the past.

While he already had an internal fight with himself. Simon vs. Ghost. His brain, that told him to stay away from that kind of stuff, away from you, against his heart that longed to be closer to you, to hold you in his brawn arms again. He knew it was wrong, he knew he didn’t deserve it. He knew he was too broken to deserve something so unique sincere and still he couldn’t suppress the craving within his chest. All the time Johnny hugged you, when Kyle playful threw his arm around your shoulder, the way that god damn Austrian hold your hand, the sheer thought of the kiss Johnny and you shared. It made him unsettled; it made him long for your touch even more and yet he didn’t know how or why. Never did he even feel the desire for physical affection, not after what he’d been through, but with you it was different. You came into his life and started to wreck his world. Tearing the walls down, that protected Simon from everything, and Ghost had a lot to do to keep them up while you broke them down brick by brick. And if Simon would’ve been honest with himself, he hoped that for once in his life Ghost would lose that fight.

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