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eddiernunson · 2 months

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Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

taglist for Waiting Room Problems: @skrzydlak @delicatechaos @ali-r3n @suckerz @cam-peggio @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @emxxblog @lilrubles @dandelionnfluff @babygirl229 @let-love-bleeds-red @kurdtbean

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 4 months

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Take Care Of Her - Charles Leclerc

Summary: A former teammate steps in when he sees Charles unintentionally neglecting his relationship and makes him see where he's going wrong.

It's been a hot minute since I've done a Charles fic that isn't requested. Basically I miss Seb and I saw this clip and was like...ok we're writing a Charles fic featuring Seb. I hope that's ok.

Side pairing: Reader x protective platonic friend!Seb

Themes: Neglectful boyfriend!Charles but also reader neglectful to herself due to struggling mentally, some matter of not eating enough food not ED but may not be what some people what to read about (it is pretty brief), happy/hopeful ending

Seb and y/n did end up with a bit of bond and friendship throughout his time as Charles' teammate. There might have been points of tension between Charles and Seb, but y/n never had any moments that pushed a wedge between herself and the champion.

Even with him no longer in Ferrari, y/n will stop and speak to him at least once a weekend.

Seb is a bit protective over y/n because of the friendship. In his time in Ferrari, when she became a victim of some nasty stories in the media, he'd defend her alongside Charles.

But times have changed.

And while y/n is still ever present for her boyfriend, Charles seems almost distant and while he will have y/n by his side. It's obvious to everyone, especially Seb, that y/n has been sort of ignored by her previously obsessed boyfriend.

Today, Charles walks into the paddock and he's talking to Joris while holding y/n's hand as she tries to keep up with him. She's looking at him with the same loving and admiring expression she's worn every time she's looked at him since they started dating. That being during the his first summer break at Ferrari.

There's nothing wrong with y/n and Charles' dynamic and almost everyone can tell the neglect simply comes from Charles being so focused on trying to improve things when it comes to the car and his performance. The Ferrari 2021 car hasn't impressed anyone.

"Alright, I'll see you later." Charles states as he finally turns to y/n kissing her quickly before he moves with Joris seeming to go for his track walk.

Y/n mumbles a bye with a smile before she spots Seb watching them and practically bursts into a beaming smile. It's also no secret she was a huge Seb fan in his Red Bull days and that spanned into his Ferrari move and she continues to show her support for Seb in Aston Martin.

"Seb." Y/n grins moving to hug the older man. their friendship has been suspected as something more but it really is very much platonic and almost more of fan who managed to get close to their idol more than anything else.

"Hi, y/n. How are you doing?" Seb asks, always making sure to ask before any conversation properly starts.

"I'm good. A little tired with all the travelling...and Charles is...well he's not happy with the car." Y/n admits making Seb nod. "They didn't manage much improvement on last year."

He bites his tongue a little since while he doesn't hold anything about his departure against anyone really, it certainly still hurt.

"How are things in green?"

"They're ok. Not as bad as they could be and I'm happy." Seb shrugs making her nod before he realises her eyes are watering a little. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I...umm...stupid dust around the paddock." She sighs shaking her head and rubbing at her eyes.

Y/n is one of those people who is generally always so happy and really no one can fault her for it. But seeing her try to cover up sadness, seeing tears in her eyes. That's a different kind of sight and it stirs an emotion that Seb has only ever felt when he saw his own daughters cry for something that's beyond his control.

"I should let you go, I'm sure you have things you should be doing." Y/n smiles then clearing her throat and shifting to hug him again before she disappears and he sighs.

It's not his business, it's not his place to speak to Charles about his relationship. But seeing y/n lie to cover up, that's not something any woman should have to do.

Charles sighs as he climbs out his car and moves around only to find himself confronted by his old teammate actually moving his helmet so he looks at him.

"We need to talk." Seb states making Charles frown but he still respects and admires Seb, even with the tension they sometimes had. Charles values his time with Seb as a teammate and he knows that y/n absolutely adores the older driver.

They get weighed as usual and move through till they find a corner to talk in.

"Charles, I know this season is not being easy. But I think there might be something wrong with y/n. She was talking to me earlier and just...sort of started to cry. I know it's not my place, but it's not like her and I think you should know." Seb states making Charles frown and he knows it's not really the brightest idea to tell Charles how to treat is girlfriend. "You need to take care of her. I am not the only one who has noticed the change in her and it's not nice to see."

"She was crying?" Charles questions making Seb nod almost hesitantly before he hears Charles curse under his breath. "Thank you, I need to go."

Aka he needs to go rush his media duties and debrief so he can get to his girlfriend quicker. The post race rush of events means he has to wait, but the moment he's done, he will be getting to her with urgency.

Meanwhile, y/n sighs as she walks out to the Ferrari unit. Having sat with Joris for a bit in the garage.

By the time Charles finally gets to y/n, she is basically ready to leave for the day. Having packed up her stuff and almost waiting for Charles to get in and change into normal clothes so they can leave.

"Hey, baby." Charles greets making her look at him.

That's when it practically slaps him in the face. The changes he's failed to notice in the girl he does genuinely love so much. His heart aches seeing the paler tint to her skin, the bags under her eyes and the colour drained from her iris'.

Now he's really looking, he's really paying attention. He can see what he's not been noticing.

"Mon amour." Charles frowns moving towards her and his sudden very close attention nearly scares her enough for her to step back with a look of confusion.

"What wrong?"

"I think I should be asking that." Charles sighs before gently cupping her face. "I haven't been a good boyfriend."

"You have."

"No. No. I haven't and I have been so bad that Seb had to pull me aside to point out that I hadn't even noticed you weren't yourself." Charles mutters shaking his head while she looks at him for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that. Don't make it seem like you did it one purpose." Y/n grumbles shaking her head. "Can we just go home?"

"Yes."

And he has no intentions to leave her side unless absolutely necessary or for a matter of less than a minute.

By the time they're in Monaco, Charles has fussed over y/n enough that she almost feels smothered. But she'd be lying if she said it didn't feel nice. To the point she really hadn't realised how much she missed her boyfriend's attention and how much she hadn't been getting it till he started making the effort again to pay attention to her.

Right now they're lying in bed post-sex, another thing neither of them realised they'd gone so long without. Safe to say, Charles fully intended to make up for lost time when it dawned on him that they'd accidentally been celibate for over a month.

"You need to eat." Charles states softly after having spent the better part of half an hour drain shapes on her tummy which had definitely shrunk, her ribs sticking out much more now than they did a few months ago. So she's lost weight. "Have you been eating?...Be honest."

He hates having to ask that question. Because he should know. They should be eating together even if they're not eating the same thing.

"A little, I just forget and usually you eat without me so I just kind of skip meals so I don't miss out on time with you." Y/n shrugs and Charles nearly launches himself up. "W-Where are you going?"

"To make you something to eat." Charles states making her scramble up, grabbing some shorts and a hoodie as she stumbles to chase him.

"No, Charles. I'll make something." Y/n rushes out earning a frown. "Please...I'll make something for both of us?"

Charles continues to frown before it clicks why she's not letting him cook.

"You think I'll make bad food."

"Baby...the pasta...you made crunchy pasta." Y/n grimaces while he sighs in defeat. "You can help, but I'm supervising everything."

"It means more time with you." Charles nods before smiling and picking her up with a kiss on her cheek. "I'm not going to let this happen again...you are a priority, mon amour."

"I love you." Y/n smiles before Charles moves around, tying her hair back as he used to always do when she'd cook. "But I think I might bake Seb a cake or something for his kids as a thank you for speaking when I wouldn't."

Charles sighs knowing he shouldn't have to be thanking someone but it does seem his former teammate is owed a massive thanks for this. For pointing out that Charles wasn't noticing his own girlfriend struggling because their relationship was taking a backseat to seemingly everything and everyone.

"I think I should stay away from anything that is being made for children." Charles hums then stealing another kiss from her. "Ok, you need to eat. So let's cook. You're the boss, yes?"

"As always." Y/n smiles gaining back some of the confidence that had deflated in the silent decaying of their relationship.

Obviously there's still work to do before they're back to feeling like they're how they should be. But neither of them are going to just give up on it so any progress is good progress until they get back to how they want to be in the relationship.

Y/n arrived with cupcakes and after some convincing, she got Charles to allow he to leave his side and hunt down Seb who had been unusually hard to spot.

But when she found him, she locked him in a hug.

"Thank you...I never would've had the courage to say anything until I was ready to just...leave." Y/n whispers as she hugs him, closing her eyes but still feeling the tears gathering behind her eyelids because this means so much to her.

"He needed to know and I care about you. I want to see you happy and glowing like you are now. You deserve only the best and Charles knows he can give you it, he was just being stupid." Seb smiles rubbing her back before she moves back. "Are the cupcakes for me?"

"You...and the girls if they're not stale by the time you get them home."

"I'm sure they'll be fine, and the kids will love them. Thank you." Seb smiles before he looks at her for a moment. "Are things better?"

"Yes. I know I should speak up when I feel like thinks are getting hard and Charles has decided that things will never get like that again so really I shouldn't have to speak up." Y/n sighs with a nod then smiling brightly at him. "We both owe you more than cupcakes...because honestly if I lost him then it'd have hurt a hell of a lot more than what was already going on with him being too busy to pay attention."

Y/n does talk to Seb for a bit longer before Charles appears giving a silent thanks with a nod and appreciative expression which Seb acknowledges with a smile.

"I should take the cupcakes and get first pick of my favourite before I have to hand them over to the kids. Thank you." Seb eventually states giving the two a final wave before he picks up the cupcakes and in a similar fashion, Charles scoops y/n up and carries her away.

"I have legs."

"You also have a boyfriend." Charles smirks earning an eye roll.

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beggars-opera · 5 months

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Hey, so we don't talk enough about A Christmas Carol as being at least a little bit about not continuing a cycle of abuse and neglect, both against others and yourself.

In the book little Scrooge is left languishing over the holidays in a boarding school for some never-explained reason, but it is made very clear that this is miserable and unfair, and that his father is doing this on purpose. His sister specifically comes to tell him that "father is so much kinder now than he used to be, that home's like heaven." This also reflects a bit of Dickens's own childhood when his father went into debtor's prison and little Charlie was forced to support his family working full time in a shoe-blacking factory at the age of 12 (which is also why so many of his books seem to have a moral of "hey, kids are people too and maybe we shouldn't make them work in the mines.")

Whatever family reunion happened after didn't work out, because Scrooge continues believing that no one is coming to save him and pulling himself up by his bootstraps at the detriment of all other social relationships is the only way forward. And the more he lives by that philosophy, the more miserable he gets, because obviously he pushes away anyone who has that hope that he lost. They threaten to break down the walls he's built and teach him that a big pile of money doesn't have to be the only thing that he can rely on, if he'd just let himself be vulnerable and have a relationship with people who care about him, because they're out there even if he's ignoring them.

There is a certain type of person still very much out there who thinks this way. "I've never been happy in my life, so no one else has a right to be either. I was abused in my childhood so it's only fair that everyone else suffer as well." We see this in parents who still try to use corporal punishment, and in wealthy people who ignore the social factors keeping others down and scream that everyone else is just entitled, that only those who suffer and scrape deserve happiness. And they especially hate the people like Fred who represent the past that could have been, who have maintained hope for the future, and seem to be rubbing their optimism in your face, when in reality they're just maintaining hope because it's the only way you can survive.

It's so important for Scrooge to actually see the impact this thinking has on both himself and multiple generations. Rich people have this weird hangup about this story because they think Scrooge is bad because he's rich. He's not, he's bad because he's a horrible person and a miser - he doesn't use his money to better anything, including himself. Salting the earth, everyone suffers here, including him. And he learns that he's going to die old and alone without ever having spent or enjoyed his money, and that his family feels sorry for him, and that the nameless masses of poor people out there that he decries so much are in fact living, breathing people, including tiny disabled kids who don't deserve to suffer just because you decided life isn't fair.

In the end he takes responsibility for actually uplifting the people in the next generation who are trying to make the world a better place and no longer punching down, because it doesn't have to be this way. So many people out there just give up hope because things are hard and they think trying to improve things is a pointless exercise that makes them look dumb. How dare you grow a year older and not an hour richer! How dare you marry for love! That's the only thing more ridiculous than a Merry Christmas! When in reality, there are plenty of people who would love to see them happy if they just had a chance.

It's really sad that, while the language used to describe it has changed, these problems still persist. That people feel so wronged and isolated that they spend their days ensuring everyone else will be as well. That they fail to see their fellow humans as fellow humans who are just as deserving of love and kindness and a roof over their heads. I don't care what time of year it is, we should all be lifting each other up rather than tearing each other down.

#long post #rant #a christmas carol #charles dickens #history #books #literature #christmas #who hurt elon musk

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brain-rot-central · 14 days

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Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 4

A/N: Confrontation time. Here we go, y'all. I'm tagging this as borderline non-con for the ending. It steps into some murky territory that some may feel uncomfortable with. But hey, we're dealing with AA, after all. I'll also be linking a post reference within the text here; please click the link when you see it! It'll help you visualize a certain part. 🌝 Thank you all for the support thus far! I hope you enjoy reading ❤️

Rating: Explicit Word count: 7.7k Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (named) Warnings: 18+, non-con (somewhat; literally touches the border of it), absolutely dubcon, mentions of pregnancy, mention of virginity loss, loss of innocence, manipulative behaviors, toxic relationship, discussions of death and murder, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, PiV sex, PiV sex while pregnant, blood drinking, mother-fuckin' vampire sex boiiiiiiiiii (sorry these tags are way too serious and I am not)

Summary: Tav arrives at the Crimson Manor, poised for a confrontation with Astarion. A delicate dance ensues.

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust as she enters, but once they do, the sight before her nearly robs her of all speech and reason.

Illuminated by candelabras, Tav gasps in awe at the renovations to the interior of the manor. The once drab and outdated decor has been ripped out, heart and soul, and replaced with… white. So much white.

White walls, white marble flooring with golden accents, tall white marble columns. A generous crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, Tav looking up. Her vision comes down to settle on the plush red carpet lining the foyer, stretching through the hall and into the ballroom. The reflection of the candlelight shimmers along the marble floors. A sunset on the water… Tav notes offhandedly to herself.

A commemoration to their moment of triumph over the Absolute.

They all stood atop the dock watching the sun set over the horizon, sunlight glinting off the sea. The moment the tadpole vanished, Astarion became free. Truly and completely free.

A life regained, a future unwritten.

Reborn anew.

As she continues to drink in the new additions to the palace, Tav sees a figure approach from the corner of her eye. She turns her head to observe an older human woman making her way down the carpet, a smile set upon her slightly wrinkled face.

“Good evening, young miss,” the woman greets with a short bow. “Have you come to ask for an audience with Lord Ancunín?”

Tav remains silent for a moment as she quickly gives the woman a glance over. Gray hair with a time-worn face, albeit one that still shows the beauty she once beheld. She wears a simple long black dress with long sleeves, a white apron tied around her waist. Her shoes are black with a big metal buckle adorning the top of each. “I beg pardon for my current appearance,” the woman offers, giving the apron a quick pat down. “It isn’t often we have visitors this time in the evening.”

“No…” Tav begins, voice trailing off as she regroups her thoughts. “Not an audience, no. I’m…” Her chest thumps as she ponders their relationship. “...A friend of Astarion's. Is he home?”

“The young Master is in, yes; though I'm afraid he's currently occupied.” As if sensing Tav’s disappointment, the woman questions, “May I ask who you are?”

Tav nods her head respectfully. “I'm Tav.” The woman quirks a questioning brow. “Tavaria,” she adds quickly. “I was a traveling companion to Astarion over a year ago.”

And much more…

A spark shoots across the woman's vision and Tav recoils backward, readying herself.

“Ah!” the woman exclaims joyfully, “Lady Tavaria!” The woman bows earnestly. “Lord Ancunín extends his warmest greetings to you. Welcome to the Crimson Palace.”

With a smile, Tav softens her stance. She bows in return. “Thank you. It's… definitely different than before,” she comments while looking around the room.

“Ah, yes,” the woman agrees, “Master Astarion has renovated the manor to his distinct liking after the untimely passing of its prior occupant.”

“I see,” Tav states with a laugh. “This is all… very Astarion.” Elegant and refined.

All for show.

Continuing her observation of the room, a painting hanging on the middle wall catches Tav's eyes. She walks toward the painting, stopping just in front of it.

It's a black and white piece, looking to have been drawn in charcoal, depicting a man and woman sharing an intimate embrace. Both are naked, the woman's face obscured by her pose as she bows her back while offering her throat to the man. His head rests within her neck, his long black hair flowing down his back. The accompanying piece focuses solely on the man. The lustful look demonstrated in the man's half-lidded eyes as he looks up from the woman's throat has Tav shaking where she stands.

She's seen that look before. Not unlike how Astarion has looked at her.

The servant woman smiles, still standing in the same spot, clasping her hands together. “You must be exhausted, dearie,” she says, cutting through the silence. “Shall I direct you to your chambers?”

Tav blinks rapidly and turns her head to the woman. “I’m sorry, but did you say ‘my chambers?’” She shakes her head with a short laugh. “I don't live here.”

“But of course, my lady,” offers the servant. “Master Astarion has asked that we offer it as an option should you ever visit the manor.” She nods her head with another beatific smile. “There is no obligation. It is simply a kind gesture.” She bows, courteously, “My apologies for any offense I may have given, Lady Tavaria.”

Tav nods briefly, turning away from the woman as her mind races. He made me a bloody bedroom? She lifts her head and once again finds the picture on the wall. A chill travels up her neck as she locks eyes with the intense gaze of the man in the painting. Her breath hitches.

“Do you know when Astarion will be available?” Tav asks hurriedly, looking toward the woman.

The servant shakes her head. “I'm afraid I do not, though I can set you up in the study while you wait?” Smiling again, the woman walks across the room to a set of double doors on the far right. She opens them wide and gestures to Tav, welcoming her to enter.

Clutching her satchel, Tav walks through the threshold and into the office. It's rather standard when compared to the rest of the manor; dark green carpeting and wood panel walls. Multiple bookcases that are carved into the walls, holding a plethora of tomes. A couple glass display cases are near the large window on the far side of the room. The evening sunlight pours in from the wide window and onto the chaise lounge adjacent to it; a relaxing spot for one who wishes to bask in the sun.

The solid, dark wooden desk across from the double doors has a number of loose papers strewn about the top. An ornate wooden chair sits behind the desk, purple velvet upholstery with golden Damask patterns lining the back and seat. Two simple royal blue armchairs sit before the desk, signaling the office’s likely use for business gatherings.

“Please, make yourself at home,” the older woman says from behind as she enters the room. She walks over to the desk and gathers the documents into a single pile. “Would you care for something to drink, my lady? I'd be happy to bring you something after informing Lord Ancunín of your presence.”

Tav turns her head in acknowledgement of the older woman. “I'm quite well, thank you.” She furrows her brow. “Though, I didn't catch your name before.”

The woman freezes momentarily before bringing her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaims in embarrassment, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “Where are my manners today?” She quickly bows. “Magdalena, my lady. A true pleasure to make your acquaintance. My sincerest apologies.”

“It’s quite alright, Magdalena. No harm done,” Tav says with a calming wave of her hand. She walks toward the grand window and turns to face the older woman again. “Thank you for your hospitality thus far. I’ll settle myself in.”

With a nod of her head, Magdalena begins to exit the study. “Of course, Lady Tavaria. I’ll inform Master Astarion of your presence at once.” The doors close behind her with a soft click, and suddenly, Tav is alone.

She removes the satchel from around her chest, depositing the bag onto the chaise lounge. Her hat and scarf are next to join as she shakes out her hair. Tav tries to look through the frosted glass window without success. The opacity is too intense to make out anything more than muddled blobs. Turning around, she begins to walk the perimeter of the room, stopping in front of a large glass display case with a large book resting within. The cover of the book is adorned with skin, stitched into the pattern of a screaming face. An amethyst jewel sits within the face’s open mouth. Tav recalls the long nights and early mornings Astarion spent reasoning with this book until finally uncovering its secrets.

The Necromancy of Thay.

Of course he kept it.

She continues on, noting each small trinket that sits within the shelves of the grand bookcases. Slipping her hands behind her back, Tav peers over the wooden desk and observes the pile of documents on top. She pops her head up to briefly scan the room. Satisfied that she has clear advantage, she takes a hand to swipe over the letters.

There are various invitations to grand balls in distant kingdoms, letters of gratitude from high nobles, bills of sale… Tav’s eyes widen as she spots a familiar name amongst the many signatures.

With deepest admiration, Araj Oblodra

Tav reaches over and picks up the letter off the desk, holding it steady with both hands as she skims through the contents. From what she gathers, it sounds as if Araj has learned of Astarion’s new circumstances. She’s highly apologetic for her past behavior and would very much like an opportunity to show her sincerest gratitude. The letter goes on further to imply that they take the chance to get to know one another better, and perhaps they can even become allies.

Tav scoffs as she places the piece of paper back down on the desk.

She resumes her roaming when she settles on a small jewelry case on the top left of the desk. Walking around the edge, Tav fixates on the case, a startled gasp slips past her lips as she recognizes the jewelry within.

Resting atop a red velvet cushion lay a golden ring with a turquoise stone in its center. One half of a matching set of rings she had found during their journey through the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Tav was in possession of both rings for quite some time, going back and forth with herself about whether giving him one half would be too much.

She’d grown to like him; really-really like him, but she’d no idea if he felt the same. It wasn’t until the night of Astarion’s confession that Tav made her decision. Feeling the tension within his body as she wrapped her arms around his waist, yet fighting through his hesitation to return her embrace. It was enough to convince her that he truly did want to give them a try.

She presented the ring to him the following morning as they packed up camp.

“...A bit soon for a proposal, no?” quips Astarion, expression smug.

Tav stands before him. A ring with a golden aura lays within the palm of her hand, held out in silent offer. “N-no!” she stammers, the ghost of a blush tinting her cheeks. She averts her gaze as she says, “It's an enchanted ring.”

Astarion raises an eyebrow in question. “I can see that quite clearly, dear. But what does it do?”

Turning to look at him under her eyes, Tav replies shyly, “...It allows me to cast a special protection spell on you.” Her cheeks burn hot, her skin beginning to prickle.

His eyes darken as he leans forward. “Oh,” Astarion teases, voice velvet, “you wish to be my Knight?” He begins to move into her, hovering his lips just above hers. “You want to save a poor, innocent maiden such as I,” he coos. “Is that it, darling?”

They spent the majority of the following night rutting feverishly against one another, sharing a mutual need to scrub their underclothes in the river the morning after. From that point forward, each wore their respective ring around the fourth finger of the left hand.

Commotion outside the office brings Tav back to the present. She hears the voice of a woman, though not of the servant from earlier. Tav sneaks closer toward the doors, placing her ear to the wood to hopefully catch some of the conversation.

Still muffled, she thinks with a scowl. Drawing a deep breath in, Tav makes a quick split decision and grabs hold of the doorknob, twisting it gently. She feels the lock unlatch and pulls the door open just enough to allow for a small sliver of visibility. Tav strains against the door as she tries to find a better angle.

A tall elven woman with long blonde hair stands in the foyer exchanging words with Magdalena. Dressed in professional attire, she hands the maid a business card as they exchange pleasantries. Tav catches the woman's head beginning to turn toward the direction of the office and Tav quickly steps out of sight, holding her breath, heart flying within her chest. A few moments pass without incident before Tav slowly inches toward the crack in the door. She finds Magdalena bowing as the elf takes her leave of the manor.

There isn't much time to ponder who this mysterious woman is – the sound of footsteps marching along marble flooring fills the air.

“Good evening, Master,” greets Magdalena, kneeling in a curtsy.

“Good evening, my dear.” A man's voice, deep and smooth. Perfectly poised. Her stomach lurches; she knows that voice.

Tav holds her breath as talk continues just beyond the door. She quickly scans the room to determine which is closer – the blue armchair sitting before the desk, or the chaise lounge near the window.

As the man's footsteps draw closer to the door Tav bolts for the armchair, sitting promptly. She adjusts herself to appear as if she's been waiting patiently for his arrival all this time.

“Odd that the door is already open,” Tav hears the man comment from just beyond the door.

Shit.

A flash of embarrassing heat crawls up her neck. Magdalena mutters something to Astarion under her breath, but it's too quiet for Tav to make out. The doors suddenly swing open and Tav remains still, trying desperately to settle the overactive current that is her nerves.

She smells him first before she sees him – the signature scent of rosemary, bergamot and brandy encompassing the quaint office. “Thank you, Magdalena. Now, please, carry on,” he says smoothly.

Tav hears the man begin to approach from behind, placing the palms of his hands atop her shoulders. “I’m sure you've done a fine job at making our Lady feel welcome, hmm?” He squeezes her shoulders, Tav flinching beneath his grasp.

Tav tries desperately to resist the urge to look at him. When she closes her eyes she envisions the sharpness of his jaw behind her mind's eye, coupled with the smell of his cologne that’s currently assaulting her senses – she simply cannot look at him. If she does, she's going to fall.

She'll forget about the murders. Forget how angry she is that he dared come to her in a state of blood-crazed lust. That she carries a child he knows nothing about, that he can never know anything about.

If she looks at his face, so perfectly sculpted by the Gods themselves, she's going to forget every reason as to why she should stay far, far away from this man. Longing for nothing more than to fall into his arms for the rest of eternity.

“Y-yes,” Tav replies, nervously. “You've been ever so kind, Magdalena. Thank you.” Finally, she turns, eyes meeting with the servant woman. Tav feels the pale elf's searing gaze upon her skin as she deliberately looks past him, the hands on her shoulders relaxing.

“Wonderful,” he sings with a wave of his hand. “Now leave us, Magdalena.” He walks around Tav, coming to lean against the lip of the office desk. “The Lady and I have much to discuss,” he purrs, leaning over as he places a hand upon her jaw. Slowly he tilts her face upright, staring directly into her eyes. “Isn't that right, love?”

Within an instant, she feels faint. An unsettling warmth begins to spread. “Yes, Astarion,” Tav murmurs softly as his fingers slip down her neck. Her eyes flutter closed as the hand inevitably falls free of her. Astarion slowly leans back and upright, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. He breaks eye contact to focus on Magdalena.

The servant woman bows, closing the doors behind her with an audible ‘thud’ as she takes her leave. The room is silent then. Tav’s heart pounds in her ears as she stares beyond Astarion again, focusing on the ring box at the corner of the desk. She only realizes how rapidly she's breathing as the sound reaches her ears.

“Are you alright, dear?” Astarion’s smooth voice cuts through. “You look as though you've seen a ghost.”

Raising her head, Tav meets his eyes. He stands before her, concern written across his features. For a split second, Tav sees him – the dashing rogue she fell in love with.

The way Astarion is knitting his brow, wide glassy eyes studying her. It's all very much like him.

“I’m fine,” she forces out, swallowing hard.

“Did Magdalena offend you?” Astarion asks urgently.

Tav shakes her head. “No, she truly has been pleasant.”

He leans over her again. Astarion drags a finger delicately up the side of her cheek. “Then why do you cry?”

Immediately Tav raises a hand to her opposite cheek. Moisture coats her fingertips as she finds a stray tear rolling down her cheek. She’s unsure when or why she’s begun to weep, wiping the tear away with the back of her hand. Tav pulls herself out of Astarion’s touch with a slight groan.

“I-I’m fine, really,” she insists. “I… came to see you.”

The vampire's expression softens as he tilts his head. “I haven't come to you in some time,” Astarion says, walking toward a carafe of wine sitting atop a metal cart near the window. “I apologize for that.” He speaks over his shoulder, pouring the wine out into a glass. He gestures with the carafe briefly to Tav; she shakes her head. “Although, I can't say I anticipated you showing up here.” Placing the carafe back down on the cart, Astarion turns, lips pulling into a smirk as he brings the wine glass to his lips. “Is it true then, what they say? Has absence made your heart grow fonder?”

Tav stands and turns to Astarion, giving him a full glance over. He wears a simple white dress shirt, the top few buttons undone revealing glimpses of his sculpted chest. His trousers are something she’s unfamiliar with – a type of woven cotton in a particular vertical design, and dyed blue. Indigo blue. He's wearing a black belt, threaded into loops within the pants around his hips. Tav imagines there's a fastener under the belt buckle, but also something else to help secure the garment. Something metal running down the front seam of the pants. Her eyes finish their course down his legs to find a simple pair of polished black loafers.

“...I'll take that as a yes,” Astarion comments with a quirk of his brow. He returns from across the room to once again take his place leaning against the desk in front of Tav, setting the wine glass down.

“N-no,” Tav blurts out, “I mean yes, but…” She feels the warmth of embarrassment crawl up her neck, nipping along her skin as it floods her face.

A hand rises to move her hair gently aside. Astarion leans forward and dips his head into the crook of her neck, planting chaste kisses along the tender flesh. “I missed you,” he whispers into her skin. Hot puffs of breath spread over her neck and Tav shudders. Almost instinctively, she raises her head to allow Astarion better access to her throat; her eyes flutter closed. His hand in her hair winds around the back of her head, gently guiding Tav’s head further to the side before falling to her hip.

Tav gasps as Astarion pulls their bodies flush against one another. His arousal has yet to awaken, though she can still feel the outline of him against her core. She groans as he rolls her hips into her again and again; slow, languid thrusts that have bolts of pleasure shooting up from between her thighs and spreading like wildfire through her body.

“Astarion…” Tav protests weakly, raising a hand to cover Astarion's on her hip. “I didn't come here for this.”

He purrs into her throat, gently nipping and teasing the skin around her scars with blunted teeth. “Oh, no? Are you sure?” Astarion pulls her into him again while imitating a piercing bite into her neck.

She moans, louder than she means to, finally feeling the rigidness of his cock firmly against her sex. Her head falls against his shoulder as he continues rolling his hips against her, hardly noticing Astarion moving his hand from her hip to her lower back. A spark of panic zaps through her addled mind as she realizes where this is heading.

“Y-yes, I'm sure,” she insists, somehow managing to pull herself out of Astarion's embrace. The room spins around her as she turns to face him. “There's something I wanted to discuss with you,” she says breathlessly, vision finally starting to clear.

His expression falls, replaced by smug dissatisfaction. “You came halfway across the city… just to talk?” asks Astarion, narrowing his eyes.

Tav nods her head in agreement. “Yes, it's something rather important.”

Astarion groans low in his throat, grabbing the glass of wine off the desk and walking toward the office window. He brings the crimson liquid to his lips and takes a strong sip. “You could have sent a damned pigeon, if that's all you wanted,” he snides over his shoulder.

“Not about this.” Tav feels her throat run dry as she speaks. Her lust has settled for now, replaced by the live wire of anticipation.

“About what?” Astarion growls defensively. He spins around, entire body leaning into his words. Like an animal being cornered.

Tav flinches reflexively. It’s rare that Astarion ever raises his voice to her, even during disagreements. She swallows, hardening her resolve. “Don’t use that tone with me.”

Astarion hisses through clenched teeth, taking another long drink from his wine glass. His face softens. “I'm sorry, love, but I'm having a very rough time ascertaining what could ever be so important that you felt the need to bring yourself here,” he gestures wildly to the floor below him, “to me, just to talk?”

She doesn't respond.

The tension eases from his form as he studies Tav, clearly shaken by his display. He sucks his teeth in defeat. “Oh, for the love of Shar’s cunt, fine,” he groans. “If you're going to look at me like that, then fine, I'll bite.” He comes to rest on the chaise lounge near the window, knees spread wide, his forearms resting over the tops of his thighs. “So, what can I do for you, my friend?”

Tav winces, looking down at her hands as she fidgets her fingers. He's being heavily sarcastic, though at least it's an invitation to continue. “...There was an article recently in the Gazette,” she begins, voice quivering. “That spoke of a murder within the sewers.”

Astarion scoffs. “Unsurprising for those cesspits, but do carry on.”

Her eyes shift momentarily to his face before falling back to the floor. “It's reported that there were five victims in total. Three had their throats slashed, while the other two…” her voice trails off as her throat tightens. Tav tries to swallow, but nothing goes down. Panic rises within her, adrenaline building.

“The other two what, dear?” Astarion's voice is dark, firm. He stands from his place on the lounge, walking slowly over to Tav. He stands before her, brows pulled together, his eyes cast down upon her face. A hand comes up to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me,” he demands.

She gasps, Tav finally saying with some hesitation, “They had fang marks… embedded in their throats. Resembling the scars I bear.” She blinks. “The ones you gave me,” she adds, quietly.

His eyes darken with malice as his face contorts. His grip on her chin tightens, forcibly lifting her head to the side to observe her branding. Astarion pulls in a full breath as he looks over her neck, mouth dropping open in an exasperated exhale.

“...Do you know anything about this?” Tav chokes out, eyelashes fluttering rapidly.

“And why would I know anything about that, hmm?” Astarion lowers his head into the crook of her neck, panting heavily against her skin. Tav shakes from their proximity. He then drags his lips up the side of her face, resting them against her ear. “I'm not the only monster lurking in the shadows,” he whispers.

The hand on her chin falls to her hip, guiding her gently toward the lip of the desk. “I know how you think of me, darling.” Tav sucks in a sharp breath as her backside bumps into the wood. “That I’m the big bad wolf coming to steal you away in the night.” Astarion buries his nose within her hair, inhaling deeply as he pulls their bodies flush together again.

“A-answer the question, Astarion,” Tav insists, her head beginning to cloud.

“Oh, but wouldn't you rather hear what I miss most about you, Tavaria?” he growls into her ear. “What memories play incessantly again and again in my mind?” Astarion grinds himself against her center again, coaxing a suggestive moan out of Tav. Her arms rise to encircle his neck, her resolve beginning to shatter.

“A-Astarion,” Tav whines desperately. “D-don’t…”

He drops his head to rest their foreheads together, lips practically touching. “I miss how you’d writhe in my lap as I'd drink from you,” Astarion confesses. He pulls at her bottom lip, suckling the flesh between his. “The way you flutter around my cock when you fall off the edge for me.” He kisses her more thoroughly this time, groaning softly into her mouth as Tav’s jaw slackens. “But, do you know what I miss above all else?” suggests Astarion, pulling back. He dips his head again into the nape of her neck, a hand rising to gently hold the opposite side of her face.

Tav grasps at the linen of his dress shirt, bunching the fabric within the palms of her hands. She's now rocking her hips in rhythm with his, a smoldering fire now roaring to life deep within her belly. Her body calls for him, and Tav wonders briefly if he can hear it.

The crazed beating of her heart? The lone song it sings only for him? The proof of their union that grows within?

“Your blood,” Astarion speaks against her skin. Suddenly he places his mouth over her scars and sucks voraciously, like a man starved. Tav moans, buckling at the knees momentarily. She grabs at his hair, threading her fingers deep against their roots for leverage. “Gods, there's nothing quite like the vintage of your blood,” he continues as he unlatches from her throat. The delicacy of her skin has given way to a mauve bloom; he smiles as he pulls away.

She shakes beneath him. If it weren't for the desk behind her, Tav would certainly collapse. He's trying to seduce her. Fuck her into submission – make her crave him so that she's more pliable, in whichever way he desires. These are his classic manipulation tactics, not unlike their humble beginnings.

“I know w-what you're doing, Astarion,” Tav says. “Don’t toy with me.”

He laughs – a quick condescending sound breaking free from his lips. “Oh, darling, you've been toying with me for months now. I'm very aware,” Astarion says with a smirk. He cranes his head. “Our dance is always the same – we fight, we kiss, and then I make the sweetest love to you as you weave your fingers between the very threading of my soul, ripping my heart free of my chest,” he adds with a sneer, pounding a fist over his heart.

Astarion pauses for a brief moment to stare at her. He pulls in a quick breath and his face softens. “And I let you, every time.” Tav gasps as the hand holding her face slides to her chin, fingers tracing the outline of her lips. “But you?” he continues, gesturing to a shelf on the wall behind them with a nod of his head, “You keep yours high on a shelf, completely out of reach. No matter how I clamor for it.”

Astarion releases her, hands entirely off her being as he steps back. “I lay myself bare for you every time. But you refuse to see it. Refuse to see me, beyond the glitz and glamor.” He knits his brow again, and Tav swears she sees a hint of moisture gather at the edges of his eyes. “Yet, I say nothing, because this is the only way you allow me to have you. And I’d rather have some of you than nothing at all.”

Silence blankets them both.

Has she been unfair to him? Cruel? Has she so sorely misjudged who he’s become? Tav shifts her gaze down to the floor as the questions mount. Maybe he isn’t this grand demon she’s characterized him to be. His talk of power and control after the ritual – perhaps it was a rush of emotions? The first taste of freedom after so many years of indentured servitude? He seems more settled now, not in so much of a rush to bend the entire city to his will.

Perhaps… she was wrong?

“So, may we skip straight to the finale?” says Astarion, distracting her from her thoughts, “Because I’m not quite sure how much more of this I can take.”

Her mouth hangs open, too stunned to speak. Tav looks up; she meets his eyes.

Maniacal laughter as he bathes in a glowing red aura of 7000 souls extinguished.

His face when the ritual was complete. The way he roared. How he laughed.

No, she's not wrong for mistrusting him. He's worse than a devil themselves.

They stare into one another's eyes, the tension swirling about the room thickening. Tav blinks; he still hasn't answered her question.

“You still haven't answered my question, Astarion.”

She stands firm.

He scoffs, turning his head toward the grand window. Astarion runs a hand over his face; he bites the top of a finger. “No,” he answers sternly, dropping the hand from his mouth. “I don't take particular interest in what happens within the bowels of this city.” He glances down at the fingernails of his closed fist, rubbing them across the front of his shirt. “My days of being a sewer rat are long gone, my dear.”

Tav winces. She's not entirely yet convinced. “Are you sure?”

Slowly, Astarion returns his attention to her. “Yes,” he growls low in this throat, “I am sure.” He tilts his head to the side as he lifts his brow. “Satisfied?”

Briefly she narrows her eyes, studying his face. Something about this… she's seen it before. He's pulled his face into an all-too-perfect expression. Not a muscle out of place.

“Yes, thank you,” she answers. Tav watches his liar’s mask slide off, replaced by a smug expression. He’s truly convinced he has her fooled.

How could she have ever loved such a horrid creature?

“Excellent,” Astarion hums as he clasps his hands. “Shall we return to more pressing matters?” His hands raise to caress the soft edges of her hips. He drops his face to her forehead, planting a soft, lingering kiss. Gently he rocks them together again.

He's turning this into his playground. His bargaining chip.

Sex. Lies. Manipulation.

He falls back on them every time. Seals every deal with the proposition of ‘a little death;’ wielding his body like a finely sharpened tool. In her case, if she doesn't play her cards carefully, Tav could very well be staring face to face with actual death.

“Of course,” she sings to him. “I wouldn't be truthful if I said I hadn't been thinking of this.” She smiles softly to him, in just the way she knows he likes – a smile that reaches her eyes. It's her turn to start dealing her hand.

And just as expected, Astarion folds.

Hands reach behind her knees, Astarion lifting her up and onto the top of the desk. Their kiss is hurried as he slots himself between her splayed thighs, his tongue entwining itself around hers. Astarion's hands travel up again, one landing on her waist while the other palms at a clothed breast. Tav arches her back, pushing her chest into his touch. She sighs as he continues massaging the tender mound, mewling into his mouth as he pulls teasingly at her nipple. Breaking the kiss, she rests her forehead against the bridge of his nose. Her chest heaves as she tries to regain her breath.

Astarion releases her breast and slides his hand up to push the strap of her dress off her shoulder. “Lay down,” he commands with a whisper. Tav hesitates at first, but then moves slowly. She gently lays back onto the surface of the desk; the wood is cold against her exposed skin, sending a chill through her. Astarion leans forward, planting open-mouthed kisses to her neck and the newly exposed area of her shoulder. He travels down, suckling softly at the swell of her breast. She writhes beneath his touch as his hair tickles her chest.

“Ai armiel telere maenen hir,” says Astarion, kissing down the expanse of her abdomen. Tav grasps at silver locks, threading her fingers through Astarion’s hair as he begins hiking up her dress.

“You’ve said that to me before,” she pants heavily while stealing a look between her legs. An involuntary twitch ripples through her as he kisses the inside of her thigh. Tav feels him smirk into her skin.

“And still you’ve yet to seek out its meaning,” comes his prompt response. Astarion hooks his fingers into the hem of her undergarments, Tav lifting her hips enough for him to slide the fabric down her legs. They hang off one ankle as he resumes lavishing attention to her.

She arches off the desk as he kisses her mound, dipping his head momentarily to swipe his tongue teasingly up her slit. “W-uh, what d-does it mean?” she questions in a moan.

Astarion hums as he kneels before her spread legs. “You'll just have to find out for yourself,” he teases. Holding her legs open, he runs the flat of his tongue up her center, stopping to lavish her sensitive bud. He wraps his lips around her clit, suckling gently as he brings a hand to her entrance.

“What are you-” Tav exclaims, clearly panicked. Two of his fingers prod over her entrance, Astarion lightly teasing the tips in and out. Their eyes connect and he finally breaches forward, his eyes now rolling back into his skull as he continues lapping at her cunt. He curls his fingers, jerking his hand back and forth to pass over the intimate spot within. Tav’s vision begins to fill with searing white heat, her body writhing under him. He's bringing her closer and closer to release, and fast. More quickly than ever before.

“Gods, you taste even better than I remember,” he moans softly, adding fuel to the ever-mounting fire within her belly. Astarion kisses her opposite thigh, continuing the assault with his fingers. “Thiramen,” he says softly, sensing her proximity to the precipice.

The fucking Elvish. He surely hasn't forgotten the effect it has on her.

“D-don’t… not fair…” Tav whines, looking down between her legs as she runs her hands through Astarion's hair. Her thighs quake, the coil in her lower belly winding tighter and tighter as it threatens to snap.

Astarion meets her gaze, tongue once again passing over her swollen clit. “Thiramen eath’she,” he says. “Let shan nesh tel’quiet, thiramen...”

Astarion curls his finger with just the right amount of finesse and suddenly Tav’s body ceases. She cries out, loud and wanton, her release spilling into the palm of his hand. Astarion smirks and continues passing his fingers over her spot, coaxing her through the intensity of her pleasure. Tav pulls her knees together and finally rolls away from his touch, too overstimulated to take any more. Her chest heaves as aftershocks of her release rock through her.

The vampire smiles as he stands up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He begins undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. Opening her legs again, he leans over her. Tav’s face is flushed red, her eyes still closed as her mouth hangs open. He makes a quick mental note of her current state to call upon for later use. “So beautiful,” Astarion comments, snaking a hand down to the button of his trousers. With the deftness expected of a skilled rogue, he pops open the button and loosens the fastener.

Tav finally comes to, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. “Astarion…” she breathes, raking her nails over his bare chest. Looking between their bodies, she follows his hand as he reaches within the waistband of his underclothes, pulling them down his thighs. His cock springs free and Tav gasps. Pre-fluid gathers at the tip of him and her eyes flutter upward to meet his again, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

“I'll stop, if you want,” Astarion whispers through kiss-swollen lips. Guiding his length to rest against her sex, he groans softly, resting his head against her forehead. Involuntarily twitches of his hips have his shaft sliding deliciously through her arousal. Both pull in a sharp breath when the head of his cock catches at her entrance, Tav’s body arching off the desk at the sensation.

Shaky hands rise to hold either side of his face, and Tav notices for the first time that evening how warm it is. A soft blush sits high on his face, across the tops of his cheeks. Astarion turns his head into her palm, planting gentle kisses. Any reservations begin to melt away at the gesture. “No,” she breathes, “it's fine. I want this.” Tav runs her thumb back and forth over his cheek. “Even if only for a little while.”

He nods, completely silent, then guides himself along her core. Her hands tangle within moonlit locks as he breeches her entrance. Her sudden pleasured moan is swallowed in a kiss, Astarion groaning out is own into her mouth as his length slips deeper, deeper, until he hits her end. Tav tastes the remnants of her release on his tongue; a bitter sweetness that tickles the back of her throat. An involuntary clenching of her walls around his cock as his tip kisses the end of her tunnel has Astarion moaning again, breaking their kiss. He buries his head within the crook of her neck, resting there for a brief moment as he bottoms out.

They lay still, Tav pressing a heated cheek to the side of his face. Inhaling deeply, she crosses her legs over the small of his back and pulls him impossibly closer. Astarion adjusts the angle of his hips and she gasps as the head of his cock pushes against her cervix again, slightly arching into his embrace. Gently he begins to rock his hips – short, teasing thrusts to test her readiness. He lavishes attention to her neck with languid kisses, suckling at the delicate skin.

This is… passionate. Intimate, Tav realizes. The words he cannot say aloud, that he's too afraid to say aloud, he'll express through this.

This is her Astarion. The man she fell in love with over a year ago. Here, like this, is him. Tav turns her face to plant reassuring kisses against his temple. “You can move, Astarion,” she tells him.

He doesn't lift his face, but she feels how he breathes against her skin. A hand comes up to thread within her hair, the other landing on her hip. He’s silent as he begins to move – pulling out before slowly plunging back in. They stay like this for a bit, Astarion rocking his hips into her core with added fevor. He glides smoothly as her arousal grows, Tav falling easily into their shared rhythm.

“Tav?”

She opens her eyes, unaware of having closed them. “Mmm?” she groans softly, mouth falling open in a silent gasp as he adjusts his angle.

“Do you trust me?”

It takes a moment, but she’s sure she hears a sort of sternness in his voice. Tav peels her head back to meet his eyes. They're wild – dark crimson pools that threaten to swallow her whole. Astarion breathes heavily through his nose, eyes cast down as he awaits an answer.

She opens her mouth to speak but the words catch in her throat. With a wandering eye she finds the ring laying next to her on the corner of the desk. Light gleams on the gold band, reflecting off the glass of encasement.

He kept the ring, she argues to herself. He kept his half of the rings.

Were he so terrible, would he have done that?

“I do,” Tav answers nervously, blinking rapidly.

“May I ask a favor?”

Astarion stills his movements. He holds himself up by his elbows, but not before guiding Tav to lay flat on the surface of the desk. She nods her head slowly as she looks up to him, inviting him to continue.

In an instant, her stomach twists.

He smiles.

“It's been so long since I've supped of you, darling,” Astarion says, voice smooth as velvet. “Would you be ever so kind to grant me another taste?”

A chill runs up her spine. The room is cold, suddenly so very cold. She's ripped violently from the benevolent illusion of the moment, finding herself face to face with the very creature of tales long past.

The innocent maidens.

They always come for the innocent maidens.

She was nowhere near innocent – not for many years. But a maiden? Yes, of this she was sure.

She never did tell Astarion, but he was her first as much as she was his. Her mind may have still been fractured, but somehow she had certainty of that one fact. The moment he breached her maidenhead was the beginning of everything. Bit by bit he carved out pieces of her. Took them, stole them for himself. More and more she gave, all in an effort to appease his ever-growing lust for power and control.

Astarion is, and was, a rolling thunderstorm – lightning fit to strike for no reason other than he can.

And now he's asking, again, for more.

An overwhelming urge to cry is building within her, but she won't. She chose this. To be here, with him. Like this. The consequences of her actions playing out in real time.

Her stomach twists again and she winces in pain. She understands his craving for blood well. The pregnancy has been kicking up old feelings; she believed them to be settled after the rejection of her Father. Can she really deny him his hunger?

Tav lifts her face to meet his gaze. Astarion is looking down at her with a blank expression. He silently awaits her answer.

“...D-do not turn me, Astarion,” comes her shaky response.

A deep rumble travels up his chest as he twists his face into a foreboding smile. “Of course not, my love,” he purrs, like a cat that finally got the cream. His hand twists within Tav’s hair, guiding her head upward to expose the long column of her throat. His eyes find her scars again and he sucks in a sharp breath, involuntarily jerking his hips into her core. Astarion’s arousal has flagged, though the promise of her blood has him twitching back to life.

Tav groans as she feels him swell within her, hooking her legs back around the small of his waist. Tears threaten at the corners of her eyes as she feels his gaze upon her. “Be gentle, please,” she pleads. Trembling hands rise to hold his shoulders as he moves into position, his mouth hovering above her neck.

Astarion peppers the underside of her jaw with kisses as he trails down her neck. “I would never dream of being anything but,” he speaks into her skin. He swipes his tongue over her mark, his mark, enclosing his mouth over the spot and suckling lightly. “You'll barely feel a thing.”

She could stop this. She should stop this. But instead, she lies in wait, bracing herself for the icy sting of his fangs piercing her flesh. Tav feels the points of his teeth press into her neck; she screws her eyes shut as they sink in, hands flying to the top of his head. She groans, gripping handfuls of silver hair.

He's right – the pain is only momentary, replaced by a familiar, comforting warmth. Astarion sucks in earnest, mouthfuls of her blood rushing down his throat. With his cock fully replenished, Astarion resumes a steady rhythm, thrusting in time with each pull of blood into his mouth. He groans against her skin.

He desires this, he desires me, Tav reassures herself. The edges of her vision are beginning to darken; a telltale sign that she's reaching her limit. “Astarion,” she says meekly, trying to alert him of her condition.

Yet, he continues to drink.

She pants against his forehead as she tries desperately to break free of his hold. Her strength is quickly fading, more of her vision fading with each pull of her blood into his mouth. Still his thrusts continue; a numbness starts to spread from her core throughout her limbs.

“Astarion…” Tav calls again, voice barely above a whisper.

The ceiling is the last thing she sees before she closes her eyes. Even behind her closed lids the room spins. One hand slips from the top of Astarion's head and onto the table, followed shortly by the other.

As she slips closer and closer into unconsciousness, Tav makes peace with the fact that she chose this. She knew this was a possibility. She knew he desired this, and she gave it to him. Willing.

He outplayed her.

A single thought races across her mind before she fades, of the artwork in the foyer.

The vampire bites the woman he desires.

Finally, Tav succumbs to the dark.

Astarion continues to drink.

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

A/N: PHEW. Well. The art I referenced above I believe is a scene from a manga called "Blood Sucker," but I couldn't find an actual panel depicting the image above, even with reverse image searching. If anyone can find the actual reference, please feel free to inform me and I'll adjust the link. Translations for the Elvish are as followed: Ai armiel telere maenen hir - "You hold my heart forever" Thiramen - "I love you/my love" when referring to soulmates Thiramen eath’she - "I love you forever," again, in the context of soulmates Let shan nesh tel’quiet, thiramen - "Let go for me, my love," Sources are here & here

Hope you had fun reading!!

#astarion #ascended astarion #bg3 astarion #fanfiction #astarion smut #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x named tav #astarion ancunin #bg3 #my writing #astarion x durge #astarion x female tav #astarion x female dark urge #sotlc

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bloodyjuls-blog · 13 days

Text

Im gonna fight for both of us

So here we go with part 4, sorry it takes me too long but I'm working and hate work haha...

When Alexia entered the hospital she had no idea what she would find there, in one hand, she could find y/n awake but with some tiny injuries (it was what she wished) but what she found was a nurse informing her that they needed someone to give consent to perform an emergency surgery because y/n's accident is a serious life threatening emergency and Alexia knew well, the only person who could do that was your sister, she had the obligation to call her and inform her, she didn't bother to call your parents because she knew that you were not the most beloved daughter in that family, moreover, she knew that they wouldn't even miss you if you died, because she heard many conversations with them in which they clearly told you that you were a failure.

While Lilah, your sister, gave the authorization over the phone, the doctors explained to Alexia what had happened to y/n. First, when they arrived at the hospital y/n went into cardiac arrest due to the impact, then doing a general sweep they found cervical and spinal injuries that compromise her mobility, hence the emergency surgery. What worries them the most is the injury of her brain, apparently it has a severe inflammation and they are concerned that when she wakes up (if she does) she will have compromised her cognitive functions such as speaking, moving, remembering things, most likely she will have memory loss.

When her sister arrived at the hospital she was furious, how was it possible that y/n was drinking again and doing these things as irresponsible. Alexia got angry and said a few things to her.

"Look, I don't think that looking for blames is the solution, what I think is that we should support each other without blaming in favor of y/n not dying, because I swear that if she dies I am going with her, you don't understand the things she was going through, and being honest neither did I, and if looking for blames then blame me because I was the one insisting" Alexia said. "Insist on what, what did you say Alexia" says y/n's sister "I insisted so much on the idea of starting a family, having children, that without those things I couldn't continue with her, that all this time was lost, but I swear it's not like that, it hurts me a lot to know that probably the only thing she heard from me was that while she's always being the loveliest person she is told me that for her the family was me and she didn't need children while she was with me, you don't know how much I regret it." Says Alexia crying and Lilah just approached and hugged her. At the end of the day their relationship is very close. "Ale calm down a little and come let's sit down, I think I understand why y/n is like this with the family thing and maybe when y/n wakes up it will kill me because it's something she didn't want you to know" lilah says calmly. They settled into the waiting room chairs.

"Since she was very little, my sister has always been the black sheep, the daughter that nobody wanted, the girl that when she had the opportunity to left home she did and never came back, you know Alexia when my sister left I was very sad but as an older sister I always saw the mistreatment and never said anything, she stopped going to so many events, so many Christmas reunions, so many birthdays or things like that because she simply knew that they didn't want her, they didn't show it love of support, the only thing that accompanied her in her gray days and well not so gray, was her bottle of whiskey, what can you ask from a teenager who has social pressure for what she does and no support or family that can tuck her in and tell her that everything will be okay" says the sister between soft tears. "I didn't know that, I thought that since she was also getting along with you..." Ale said remembering the phone calls from your parents.

"Of course Ale, you more than anyone knows that she is not one of those people who scream her problems and plead for help, she didn't want you to see her as something weird, that's why she gets along so well with your family, she found love in you, to feel loved, tucked in by someone, valued, no matter what and luckily your family is just like you, if you see the relationship my parents have with me and have with her you would surely get angry because you and I know what is y/n and how important it is to have her in our lives, Ale I'm not going to lie to you, a while ago I also thought that my sister wanted to be a mother because you know mate, look at how she treats the children, they have a very special relationship, very nice, she is a pure soul, but all her life she has seen examples of how not to be parents, how my mother ignored her and her things, Alexia the fact that my parents are not here is not new, when that 17 year old girl in her peak career broke her cruciate ligament, nobody was there for her, not even to give her a bottle of water, and because of that and more things is that y/n is super strong and every thing she sets in her mind to do she achieves it. For many years it was just her against the world and she has lived many blows without saying a word, so if she gets out of here you will understand that it will be very difficult, she will need a lot of support because according to what I have been told, her injuries are serious, probably the only thing that keeps her alive is football and she won't can do that anymore" says Lilah calmer. "I swear Lilah when y/n gets out of here things will be different, I would have liked to have this same talk but with her and avoid this bump in our road but life gives some people a lot and others very little, I swear I will be in her way as long as she lets me, that girl deserves nothing but good things and I believe that all the people she has given her love have let her down in a certain way, but just like you, I also want to do well, did you know that at home I have the ring to propose to her? I swear that without it I can't live" says Alexia more calm and confident. "I'm glad to hear that Ale, you two do each other good, please don't lose that, you're all would be miserable for life and that's not what you're all deserve." Lilah said as she gave Alexia a hug.

Hours later

"Relatives of y/n y/l" says the receptionist on the OR floor. "We are" say Lilah and Alexia at the same time. "The doctor is cleaning up but he's on his way here to report his relative" says the girl stoically. "Thank you very much" they both say in unison.

Once in the study room with the doctor....

"Well, I must say that it was a very complicated surgery because we found internal injuries that we couldn't see in the x-ray and that compromised her health, I am not lying when I say that she went into cardiac arrest at least three times and that worries us a lot because it means that her heart is weak. About her cervical injuries I am afraid that only when she wakes up we will be able to know if she has sensitivity in her legs and if she will be able to walk again, but I must admit that because of the blows her spinal cord has been affected, I want to be very realistic with you, if we manage to have a satisfactory recovery it will be very difficult for her to return to her profession, because the high impact can cause definitive injuries, now my colleagues are monitoring her brain signals because in the resonance we saw very few but we can guarantee that there is no brain death, but any sequels will be determined once she wakes up, at the moment she is not in coma but she was not awake either, we have implemented a method of sedation a little strong but I insist she is not in coma, so now later when the entrance to her relatives is authorized you're all can talk to her, in this state she can listen hope so. Of course, the view that you are going to find is very strong, because she is connected to many tubes and intravenous lines, also her external injuries are a little strong and her foot has an external fixator because there was a fracture of the tibia and fibula". Says the doctor super calm but forceful.

"thank you very much doctor, the fact that she is still alive is because of your effort, let's hope that the evolution is positive, sure it is" says Lilah calm and Alexia super scared because she doesn't understand anything. "Well Ale, y/n is not well and there are strong changes coming in her life and the only thing we have left to do is be by her side to make it as bearable as possible, I am not so much worried about her physical injuries but mental then we must make sure that when she gets out of here she gets psychological attention, and have faith that she will get out of this because she is a super strong person, she always has been and this will be just a very fat bump for her, are you ready to see her" Lilah says optimistic. "I don't know, I just know that if I will always be even if she doesn't want me to, it will be hard for me to see her like this but that's okay" Alexia says forcefully. Alexia's phone starts ringing, it's Ana and Leah on joint call.

"Hi girls."

"Hi Alexia, what happened to y/n, did you find her" says Ana worried.

"Girls, y/n was involved in an accident and it's serious" says Alexia with her voice cracking remembering the anguish experienced a few hours ago.

"How???? What do you mean accident and serious????, my goodness" says Leah in dismay.

"Yes girls, apparently her car overturned at high speed on Tibidabo and her injuries are serious, she probably won't be able to play football anymore" "if you want to come I'm sure y/n would really appreciate it" says Ale sadly.

"I'm already looking at flights to Barcelona, I just can't believe it, what a downer girls, I'm so sad" says Leah in tears.

"Ale tells me which hospital you are, I'm on my way" says Ana in a hurry.

"We are in the one near Tibidabo" "now I'm sending you the location, I'm going to hang up, I'm going to go in to see my baby" and Alexia hung up.

Before entering the room Alexia calls the team managers to discuss what happened and they tell her not to worry that everything is going to be fine and that she can take all the time in the world to be with y/n.

Lilah takes Alexia's hand and asks her if she is ready to go in to which Ale nods not so sure....

When they enter the first thing they see is y/n lying on the bed with many tubes everywhere, one coming out of her mouth, IV in her arms, one in her leg and the fixator in her ankle adding the bandage on her head (because nothing can be seen from her spine but that's where her surgery was) a tube coming out of her side, Alexia's heart breaks in little pieces to see her like this, the love of her life lying on a bed fighting for her life....

"Ale, talk to her and hold her hand, so she could feel you are here, with her, while I go make some calls" "Ok" alexia says.

"Hello my love, I know that the last time I spoke to you I didn't say very nice things but I want you to know that they're not true, I was very angry with you, it is that you are a stubborn honey, why don't you tell me your things, my life you are going to be very well. You are going to recover and although everything will be very different I am going to be with your sister and you all the way, you are going to be well, healthy, strong and laughing at life as always, I am sad to see you like this, I don't like to see that you are having a bad time, I only ask you to fight and stay here with me, don't go without me, I love you so much, all the girls are worried, even Leah is coming from London later and Ana is on her way, I'm sure that when they see me they will want to tear my head off for being stubborn, and you should know that I don't mind not having children but as long as I have you, nothing happens. .. We will buy the little house on the beach that we want so much and we will be very happy my love, I cannot do without you, you are my life, you have always been my life, I love you, very much and I will not leave here and go home without you. I love you too much, you can't imagine how much..." Alexia says through tears as she comes over and gives you a little kiss on your uninjured cheek. She arranges the chair next to you and doesn't let go of your hand, trying to give you some human warmth in that cold room. And she falls asleep for a while to the sound of the monitors lulling her to sleep.

#woso #fc barcelona femeni #lionesses #fcb femeni #woso x reader #woso imagines #alexia putellas x reader #leah williamson imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #leah williamson x reader

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cowyolks · 2 months

Text

IN DEATH’S HANDS

PART ONE OF TWO

Pairing: Grim Reaper! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Prompt: You survived that car crash. Despite all the doctors saying you should have been crushed like a soda can. It shouldn’t have been possible, but you had a strange suspicion it had something to do with the cloaked figure that followed you everywhere.

Words: 5.7 K

Warnings: Mentions of Death and dying, stalking, gore, car crashes, deception, protective Simon.

You had considered yourself to be abnormal since you learnt to comprehend your own thoughts.

It started when you were little, sat politely on an old wooden pew, termite bitten and nearly rotting. Worn cloth was placed over the wood, proving little cushion or support. Odd and depressing music relayed through your ears, the mournful toon of an organ, and the slow chanting of hymns covered by sorrowful hiccups.

You were too small to register loss, to feel the grief of not seeing your grandmother again. So you sat, swinging your legs in a continuous loop, cheap pen held between your fingers as you crudely sketched upon a faded bulletin.

You drew your latest fascination, the black-robed figure that stood over your grandmother the last couple of days. Face covered and massive scythe in hand.

It didn’t speak, it didn’t grant you any attention, it didn’t even look to be breathing.

All it did was loom.

Something inside yourself screamed, instructing you to not draw any attention to its haunting aura. To avoid the blowing shadows of its cloak and not stare at the chilling gleam of such a powerful weapon.

It cornered your grandmother once you left the house, tiny hand holding onto your mother as she took you back home after her shift at work.

You were the one that found her, body still and cold as you went to show her your new toy. You called for your mother after she wouldn’t answer from your tugging on her frigid and stiff fingers.

You were beyond confused when your mother ushered you away, shutting the door behind your grandmother and letting fat tears fall down her cheeks.

Later, she had told you that you wouldn’t see grandmother again, that she was dead.

But as life goes.

People live, they flourish, they attempt to imprint their memory into the hearts of others before they are stomped out like wilted roses.

Death was nature, something that always occurred and a stone-cold constant that no one could best. Yet, it still didn’t describe the dark wordless figure that followed you, or the fact that you were older but hadn’t shown any signs of aging since your 25th birthday.

While your friends, the same age as you, began to grow grey hairs with soft crows feet imprinting their skin.

They always asked your secret, and all you could do was shrug, truthfully you didn’t know.

Candlelight flickered eerily in front of your face, a large three and two placed gently down on the table by your generous coworkers.

You likely wouldn’t eat the chocolate cake, seeing as you were still working and all. You never ate in the morgue. It was a superstition that just felt right, you couldn’t see yourself taking sustenance when the corpses couldn’t.

“Make a wish!” Dana clapped her hands together as her and Mark finished the last chorus of Happy Birthday. You didn’t believe in wishes, but regardless the candlelight made you twitch, not liking the idea of fire being around all the embalming chemicals in your office.

You blew them out perhaps too quickly.

“What did you wish for?” Mark asked, leaning closer with a curious glint in his eyes. He liked you, it was rather obvious from his puppy dog eyes and the fact he politely asked you out this weekend. You always found some excuse for his advances, not looking for a relationship.

He was good looking with curly dark hair and forest green eyes. Certainly a reliable worker as well, someone who was kind while also getting the job done.

You should have been happy to hop in a relationship with him, at least maybe go on a date or two. But something in your mind always made you hesitate. Perhaps it had something to do with the looming figure always stepping closer when the two of you spoke.

“Aren’t I not supposed to tell?” You asked lightly, shaking your head when Dana offered you a slice of cake.

She huffed, but knew of your rule. Instead she handed it over to Mark, who happily took a small bite with the flimsy plastic fork. He swallowed, “I guess not. Do you have anything planned for your birthday?”

He shifted a few inches closer, the movement didn't make you uncomfortable. Actually, it was almost comforting to feel the warmth of his skin through your white coat.

"No, I was going to order takeout." You shrugged.

Birthdays had always left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was one year closer to death, one year closer to being put on a cold table and embalmed like you did to constant others.

The cloaked figure swayed at your revelation, as if it could actually hear what you were thinking. Your eyes briefly caught on the bleach white of bone, the color contrasting against the hood like a mask. Maybe it could hear what was going on in your head?

“Well, you have to go out for your birthday!” Dana insisted, pointing the dirty spatula towards you in disbelief.

You sighed in displeasure. Honestly, eating greasy takeout and watching cheap rom coms sounded better than going out, but the look on Mark and Dana’s faces had you pondering as you pursing your lips.

“Fine. But I want to be home by eleven,” you grunted, watching as your two coworkers tried their best not to burst in excitement. You were so engrossed in their expressions you missed the chilled sweeping of black fabric.

It came so abruptly you couldn’t help but let out a little yelp, the coldest sensation you had ever felt had settled upon your flesh. It took a moment to catch your breath, the frostbite-like pain shooting through every nerve until it zeroed upon your wrist. Teeth gritted, crunching down on the crowns. You glanced down in horror at bleached bone—resembling of human phalanges, connected to the cloaked figure who loomed over you like a chilling shadow of dread. Like cutting thorns and blood-suckling leeches.

Not even a gasp or inhale could escape your body.

It’s the first time the specter had acknowledged you, just as it was the first time you had really engaged with it, round eyes meeting the shadow beneath the hood.

Frosted eyes flashed, so ghoulish and hair-raising you were sure you’d faint. The bones around your wrist tightened, before the figure stepped back and muttered something so low you could not hear, but could only feel the rattling vibration of sound against your quickening pulse.

“Hey! You okay?”

With a snap much like a rubber band, you flew back to reality, rounded eyes settling upon the chocolate birthday cake. A quick exhale, and you fell backward against the chair, huffing.

“Uh yeah, I just…I don’t feel well.” You managed to explain to a hovering Mark, who now stood in the same spot as the figure.

His lips pursed in concern, his large hand going to gently cup upon your forehead, feeling for a fever. He was too kind for his own good.

“You feel ice cold, go take the rest of the day off, I’ll pick up where you left off.” He voiced, removing his palm and placing it nervously upon his knee. You sighed, not enjoying the thought of taking a sick day, regardless of almost being done.

“Don’t even think about staying, we expect you to get some sleep and be ready to leave to go party at 7.” Dana tutted motherly, as she always tried to do when you worked too hard.

With a final huff, you nodded, going to stand up shakily.

“Do you need a ride home?” Mark asked, still attempting to conceal some of his worry. You shook your head, already feeling guilty about leaving in the first place. "Uh, no, I can walk. Besides some fresh air could do me some good." You offered, before hesitantly placing your hand upon the door after grabbing your bag from under your walnut office desk.

"Are you su-"

"Go," Both Mark and Dana spoke, echoing thorough the small office. You let out a weak chuckle. "Okay."

You stepped out of the mortuary, shielding your eyes from the beating sun. Little breeze blew throughout D.C, but despite it, you were happy to be out in the heat, away from the chilling freezers that kept the bodies from prematurely rotting.

It was a short walk home, through the very busy streets, so you felt comfortable enough around all these people to not get kidnapped or robbed. You lived in your small condo off the Potamic, high enough you could see boats cross the dirty rippling waters.

You huffed, beginning to make your way down the cracked sidewalks without completely losing your mind. Whatever the creature was, it had made a point to grab you, to suck all the warmth from your flesh in its threat. The cloaked figure had never acknowledged you besides the cool stares it occasionally froze you with... but this, this was an entirely new playing field.

In this case, you couldn't help but to feel like a pawn instead of a king.

You startled as you felt a shoulder bump against your own, knocking the wind out of you and having you fall back onto your ass. You collided with the rough cement, your tailbone throbbing in retaliation. What a birthday you were having.

"Hey! Watch where you're-" you cut yourself off as you glanced upward, behind the complaining stranger you had collided with. There the figure appeared again, this time levitating near the steps of an old library, one you frequented in.

The figure's hood was pushed higher than it typically was, skeletal features barely visible, but pearly eyes like freezing blizzards bit back into your own stare. You stood there for what could have been hours, perhaps even years before the robed figure moved. His head declined at an angle, a gesture most commonly associated with 'follow me", before it floated into the library.

You blame your constant curiosity and yearn for the unknown for taking a hesitant step forward, up those familiar crumbling steps.

Immediately you are hit with the aroma of coffee beans and printed paper. Before this scent would comfort you, now it leaves you on edge. Your head was on a swivel, searching for the robed creature, but when you couldn't find him, you deflated in surprising defeat, why were you upset you couldn't find a ghost no one could see but you?

You took a left down the historical aisle, one of your absolute favorites. It was fascinating learning of different cultures and how they viewed death, how they mourned and what religion they practiced. Would it be heaven, resurrection, eternal damnation as a deity or God dragged you to a version of Hell?

Could it be Thanatos, or Hel, or maybe even.....

A heavy book dropped to the floor, as if it was pushed on its own. The dark cover mocking you with words red like crimson.

The Origin of Reaping.

The Grim Reaper. A deathly figure everyone seemed to idolize in horror movies, tv shows, and comic books. Kids dressed up as him for Halloween, swinging plastic scythes at their siblings. The figure was even in Sunday morning Cartoons.

Your mysterious figure happened to have a few too many of the same characteristics, as impossible as it sounds.

With a final glance around the section, making sure no one saw the book fly magically to the ground, you picked it up by the beaten spine, shuffling over to a cushioned seat and sitting with a quiet exhale.

You opened it randomly in the middle, a particular passage catching your attention,

Reapers can come in many forms, some even taking shape of a persona their prey finds to be most attractive, as this likely assists in retrieving souls. Other modern depictions display a dark cloak and iron scythe used to reap.

Your mouth was left agape with every word you read, the impossible pieces carving into place in your mind, despite how crazy it sounds. You flipped another page, eyes drinking in the text as if you were parched.

It is said that Reapers are only seen when their prey is close to death. Although there is some occasion of ‘seers’ appearing throughout history. It is said that seers could spot certain deities since birth or a tragic event. In history, Edgar Allen Poe, William Shakespeare, Frida Kaleo, Queen Mary I, and many others all reported seeing signs of reapers or beings with similar characteristics.

Seers often can predict who dies with their ability of watching a reaper touch its prey. No one knows why they're able to see what they do, but the gift is sought out by thousands for the unique information of knowing how and when death will occur.

Your knuckles were growing white amongst the yellowing pages at every passage you read, gathering more of an understanding in these last 10 minutes than you had your whole entire life. But why? Why would your reaper lead you here, to learn more about him?

With a final turn you eyed a last passage, the font in a starling bold,

If one suffers the touch of a reaper, it will only be a short period of time before death.

A frozen chill set over your body again, throat constricted and unmoving as no air expelled from your lungs. The deity had touched you, the bony fingers clutching your wrist in a permanent sentence. Your limbs were frozen as the world seemed to disappear, the very air drowning. You were going to die, and soon.

"Hey, love. Alrigh' there?" A deep Mancunian accent startled you from your shock. A tiny yelp left your tightening throat, breaking you out of your trance as you glanced upwards to the voice.

He was undeniably handsome in a ruggish way. He was by no means pretty, but captivating enough to distract you for a moment. He had light hair, stubble covering his scarred face and framing his smashed nose that had been broken one too many times. His eyes were a rich brown, devoid of emotions, despite the fact that he had just voiced concern. He was dressed sloppily, dark sweats hanging low from his hips and a black hoodie to match.

Rugged, but certainly your type.

“Oh, ummm.” You blinked, falling back into the present with your cheeks burning from your blunt stare. “Yes, yes I’m fine. Just… it’s been a long day.”

His head bobbed, tongue licking his dry bottom lip quickly. “Aye, it has, hasn’t it?”

You chuckled nervously, never one to enjoy speaking to strangers or engaging in small talk. The man seemed to connect the dots, but still, he held out his hand, visible calluses littering his large palm.

“Simon.”

You nodded, reluctantly saying your own name before hesitantly reaching out to grip onto his hand. As your warm skin brushed upon his, you jolted, feeling the same icy cold temperature that led you to your crazed state in the first place.

Your eyes rounded, just as Simon’s eyes flashed in curiosity. You ripped your hand out of his grasp too quickly, standing before your legs could catch up to your body.

"Uh, it was nice meeting you, Simon. But I have to go."

He nodded, further displaying the scar running down his cheek and ending near his lip. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again, this is my favorite section, and one of my favorite books." His deep voice bided goodbye warmly, although you couldn't stop your hairs from raising and your pulse from skyrocketing like hiding prey.

"Right, well goodbye." You lowly spoke, plastering on a fake smile before rushing to leave the aisles and head for your apartment to rest. As you walked home, you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder, dread filling every nerve of your body.

The annoying buzzing of your alarm woke you from your sleep, something you had desperately needed. Your hand slapped the off button, effectively killing the noise. You felt better despite the twilight that had already set in. Darkness had flooded into your bedroom, the moon illuminating the river, casting eerie shadows across your wardrobe and bookshelf.

With a sigh, you pulled back the silk covers, yawning and stretching before making your way to your walk-in closet.

Your phone's ringtone rang through the small space, making you jump and realize just how paranoid you've became.

"Hello?"

"Hey, how you feeling?" Dana's cheery voice broke through the device, making you relax slightly.

"Better, I got some rest. When are you picking me up?"

"Oh, I'm not. Mark is."

You sighed, but couldn't stop the gentle smile that fell onto your lips. It came as natural as it could. "You set me up.” You put the pieces together. “Are we still going to the same place?"

"Of course, I'm not that mean. What are you wearing, birthday girl?"

“Haven’t thought about it. Probably just a nice blouse and jeans.”

You could hear her scoff through the phone, an offended tut escaping as well. “Hell no, it’s your birthday, and the last time you wore a dress Mark was basically drooling, and I’d love to get a picture this time.”

A short laugh huffed out of both of you, just as your fingers trickled further back in your closet, feeling the fabrics of the dresses you only wore for conferences and the occasional luncheon.

“I’ve got this black one, short and sparkly, you’d like it.” You informed Dana, pulling the dress from the hanger and holding it out to inspect.

“Perfect! I told Mark to pick you up at seven, so better hurry!”

You checked your phone, white font glowing, 18:09. You had about fifty minutes give or take. That was plenty for someone who rarely cared about appearance.

“See you there.” You bided farewell before clicking the red button, effectively cutting off the call.

It took little time to get ready, slipping on the dress that just nearly passed your ass. This one, you decided, was from your rebel years as a teen. Now you’d never wear anything that short or revealing as it pushed against your breasts.

You lightly dusted some make-up across any blemishes, and did your hair as best as you could before snatching your purse. Eyes flickered around the condo, making sure there was no sign of your ghoulish companion.

Thank God—he wasn’t there.

You hobbled, slipping dark stilettos upon your feet, making sure to not completely trip down the stairs as you spotted Mark’s navy BMW sitting at the curb. The man popped out of the driver’s side as you approached, mouth visibly popped open at your difference in wardrobe.

He looked quite handsome himself, an ironed white button down cuffed at his forearms, and black slacks accenting the whole look. He’d done his hair, styling it perfectly to accent his handsome green eyes and rich olive skin.

"H-hey, wow." His hand went to the back of his neck, likely rubbing the nervous sweat that gathered there. It was cute, in a childish crush kind of way. He opened the passenger side door, gesturing for you to step in. "You look beautiful." He sighed out, as if it was taking all his strength to spit out the words.

You chuckled brightly, daring enough to reach upwards and kiss his stubbled cheek, smelling the addicting bergamot cologne he wore. "And you look handsome." You climbed into the car, relaxing against the cool leather seats and smoothing your dress as Mark shut the door behind you.

As he opened his own door and climbed in, you could see the cute dusting of red on his cheek.

You sat in comfortable silence, riding for nearly ten minutes before you arrived at the small pub Dana had always spoke of in high regard. It was proudly Irish owned, known for having the best Shepherd's pie in all of D.C.

Perfectly your scene instead of a busy and loud nightclub.

Mark pulled the car into park, huffing a sigh before he turned. "Ready for some fun?" A soft smile was easy to come by, as was the aura of feeling safe in his presence.

"Only until eleven." You reminded him with a smirk, you could change your clothes, but you couldn't change who you are.

"Only until eleven." He repeated, amusement coating his words as he turned the key and stepped out. You opened the door after him, stepping beside him before making your way inside.

Immediately the whiff of beer and sweat flooded your senses, making you wrinkle your nose in protest as you adjusted. Mark let out a little cough, seemingly adjusting as well.

"Do you see her?" You yelled over the live band, hoping to spot the long braids Dana always styled to perfection. Mark, being taller than most, easily spotted her, "I see her!" He shouted, lightly going to grab your hand in his, the warmth of his skin welcoming.

Both of you weaved through people until you reached Dana, who was viciously guarding two barstools next to her. "Fuck off, dude, I already told you these spots are taken!" She snapped, poison dripping off her words as she glared.

"Easy..." you deescalated the situation, watching the man storm off as you took the seat at the end, Mark sitting in the middle. "Hey, you made it!" Dana's mood automatically switched, a cheery and blinding smile once again on her face.

She automatically reached over, pushing a red shot towards you with a giggle. "Get started, I've been waiting to see you hammered for like five years now."

"Alright, Alright." You giggled as well, picking up the shot and downing it only with a slight wince. It’s been way too long since you’ve partied.

“So, Mark, what do you think of the Birthday Girl’s outfit?” Dana quipped, obviously wanting to see the man’s cheeks glow red. It worked, his cheeks warming and pupils dilating.

He cleared his throat after taking a sip of his beer, "I see what you're doing, asshole. And for your information, she looks beautiful, I already told her that."

"Asshole? How about you come play this asshole in pool?" Dana challenged, a smirk on her red lips as she glanced back to you with a playful expression. "Wanna play too? You can partner up with Mark, he'll need the help."

Mark flicked her across the forehead, a small smile pulling at your lips at her muted ‘ow’.

“Go ahead and play, I'll stay here and play the winner." You compromised; far more interested in people watching anyways.

"You sure?" Mark asked. Your heart fluttered at his concern, but you nodded anyways. "Go ahead." You vaguely heard the trash talk from Dana as the two of them left to find a table and scavenge for quarters.

A sudden brush of leather scraped across your bare shoulder, the cool material causing goosebumps to spread across your flesh as you turned, a scoff escaping you as you noticed two more barstools open and the stranger took the one next to you instead.

"Whiskey." His deep voice sounded oddly familiar, as he adjusted on the seat, legs spreading wider as his kneecap bumped into yours. An annoyed huff left you as you scooted a couple inches away, so your ass was nearly hanging off the seat.

"What kind?"

"Irish, one for the lady as well." His head tilted to you, just as you caught a glimpse of the familiar light hair and raised scars from earlier. The man in the library, Simon.

"Oh, thank you." You awkwardly mumbled, settling for fiddling with your thumbs under the table. His eyes, the color of coffee beans crinkled, visible amusement dancing between the flickering lights.

"Welcome, dove."

The bartender set the two glasses in front of you, happily taking the green bills Simon offered. You watched as he gripped the glass, hand swallowing the material as if it were puny. He extended it to you, offering a toast. You picked up your own glass of amber liquid, if only to spare you the embarrassment.

"To life, we all have it, and sometimes it may kick us down. But here's to kicking it back." The glasses clinked, and you swallowed the alcohol with a cough. Simon's jaw ticked as he swallowed his, no wince visible, or even the twitch of an eyelid.

You wiped your lip softly, careful not to mess up your lip gloss. "So, what's the coincidence of finding you in two random places all in one day?" You joked, but honestly wanted to know the answer, to breakdown this stranger just as you did in the morgue.

"I like this place, reminds me of home." He gestured vaguely, his deep voice mellow and calm. "Where's home?" You questioned, interrogation being one of your many bad habits, it's a wonder how Dana and Mark even became your friends.

"Manchester."

"This is an Irish Pub." You deadpanned.

"Clever bird." He matched your sarcasm, something you found shamefully attractive. "Ireland is closer, eh? And don't tell a soul, but the brew is better there." A deep chuckle rumbled through him, his hefty shoulders vibrating with the sound. He was massive, muscle rippling off of him and filling him out, despite his tall appearance.

And his accent.

"Your secret is safe with me."

His lips ticked upwards for a moment, before dropping again. "So, what brings you to a place like this? Quite a different scene from the library."

"It's my birthday, my friends wanted to celebrate."

"But you didn't, eh?"

You sighed, nearly startled by how well this stranger could read you. lips pursed, you glanced at him through your eyelashes, then turned to see Dana lining up a shot as Mark strategized his next move.

"No, not really. But I haven't been feeling myself lately, I thought it would help to go out. To feel again, to know that I am here." An embarrassed chuckle escaped you, "I'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all of that."

Simon shrugged, "I've heard worse."

A loud celebratory cheer broke out, you turned spotting Dana pumping her fist after hitting the 8 ball in. Mark huffed in defeat, forest eyes latching to you with a soft smile. Wanna play? he mouthed over the music.

You shook your head, gesturing for the two of them to play again. Mark frowned but didn't push on the matter. You sure?

Yes. You mouthed back, before turning back to Simon, cold eyes watching the scene unfold in curiosity.

"That man really likes you." He observed, rough fingertips tapping on the table, if he pushed any harder you were sure it would cause the wood to indent.

"Oh, yes. He's a great guy, handsome and kind. Smart too, he just..." You trailed off, chewing your lip as you tried to ponder for a word to say that wasn't too harsh.

"He doesn't give you that spark. Of excitement and mystery." Simon finished for you, tilting his head downwards as he studied your expression. You hummed, heart beating a little faster at the revelation.

"And you could?"

"I didn't say that, Dove."

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment rippling down your spine at such an accusation, and how he had been so quick to make you to squirm. He knew exactly what he was doing, and you felt the sudden sense to get up and go play a game to avoid more teasing.

"Needa smoke, want to come out with me?" He offered just as you were about to stand and walk away. You struggled, wondering if you should run like prey, or put your hands into the beartrap and hope it didn't close on your bones.

"Smoking is bad for you." You quipped but followed behind his heels like a wounded puppy. A chuckle vibrated through him again, teeth flashing as he held the door open for you. "And I know it."

You stepped out into the chilly air, a pleasant change compared to the stuffy bar. Your arms wrapped around your waist; elbows leant against the rickety iron railing. Simon fished in his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter with an exhale. A quick flick and a flame sparked, settling upon the paper as the scent of tobacco aired.

He placed it between his lips, the red cherry glowing before he released, exhaling smoke from his nose and mouth. You'd think it was hot, if you couldn't smell it, or know how bad it was for him.

"So, what's your story, oh mysterious stranger?" Your heels pinched at your feet, you couldn't wait to get them off and back into slippers. Another exhale of smoke as he glanced down, the lamppost catching the reflection of his eyes, making them look almost white.

"No story. Joined the British military when I was 18, retired, here I am." He spoke with amusement, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. It wasn't, the military was no joke, just death and bullets, and if they happened to survive, they could still hear those bullets at home.

"It takes guts to serve, a lot of death." You sympathized, knowing it would be impossibly hard to watch the people you called brothers and sisters die in horrendous ways.

He took a drag on his cigarette, a slow nod of his head signifying that he heard. He flicked the dying bud to the ground.

"It takes a lot to do your job too. A mortician is a serious job, espically after seeing so much death in your family." He related; words sharp as a knife. Your blood ran cold as he spoke, never once had you mentioned your job, or the death of your parents and grandma, he shouldn't have known.

Muscles froze, heart beating nearly out of your chest as you glanced up at him. Your mouth was left agape as you stared.

What was once a warm body with handsome scars and bulky muscles now stood a black cloaked figure, skeletal bone, and white glowing eyes.

It was him, the Reaper. And oh, how it had tricked you.

A scream was crawling up your throat ready to expel until you heard his voice.

"Listen to me, Dove. I've followed you all your life, and I've never hurt you. But we are out of time." His voice was the same, still Simon's, even as those glowing eyes bore into yours.

"How is this happening?" You muttered as you squeezed your eyes shut, going as far as pinching yourself until freezing skeletal fingers gripped your chin.

"Listen. I know you read the passages in that book. I made sure you did, so you know since I touched you, it’ll be over soon. You have to keep yourself safe.” he squeezed your face, not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you pop your eyes open and listen closely.

“Why’d you touch me then? Why are you even acknowledging me if you’d ignored me all my life?”

“I’m just a soldier, dove. I don’t make the rules. Seers, they’re destined to find us, to make our hearts beat again. The higher ups don’t like that, so we are told to kill anyone like you.”

Your heart beats faster, knowing this was enough weird to send you straight to a psychiatric ward. What did he mean make his heart beat again?

“Hey! Stop touching her!” A familar voice broke out through the buzzing of the street lamps. Skeletal fingers dropped from your chin, just as the two of you turned to face Mark, his jaw clenched and fury in his eyes.

“Mark, no-” you started, watching in horror as he stormed Simon, forcibly pushing him away from you, even though he barely moved an inch. Your heart dropped, knowing the damage was somehow done. Mark had touched a Reaper, and now he would die. He shouldn’t have been able to see him in the first place.

“Fool, what have you done?” Simon growled, now back to his human form to spare Mark the shock, dark eyes nearly black in the night.

“Seriously dude, what I have done? I’m not the one harassing women.” Mark hissed, looking small despite his height as he squared up to a reaper. Simon inhaled, chest puffing even larger than before, a nonverbal threat.

“He-he touched you.” You whimpered, eyes watering with salty tears, one threatening push and they’d fall. Mark, sweet Mark, he didn’t deserve this.

Mark’s head tilted, taking his eyes off Simon, always one to check on you instead of worry for himself. His features softened, if only for a moment.

“Cmon, we’re leaving.” He spat through gritted teeth, sending one last wicked glare to Simon before he turned his back, gently grasping your wrist and steering you away from Simon.

Before Simon could utter another word, Mark had steered you to his car, keys in his grasp as he unlocked it with a stab of his finger. You’d never seen him like that, anger flooding off of him. You weren’t sure if he’d send you sinking to the depths after him.

The key slotted into the ignition, engine roaring to life as he reversed speedily.

“Put your seat belt on… please.” Mark spoke through slotted teeth, pulling out of the parking lot and into the nearly vaccant roads. You gulped, but otherwise reached behind you to pull the belt into the slot with a latch. Your hands shook, adrenaline being your enemy as you couldn’t stop your rapidly beating heart. What if this was how you died? Your heart beating out of your chest.

“You can’t just disappear like that, I was worried sick. I love you too much for something to happen to you.”Mark expressed, taking his eyes off the road for a moment, only to frown at the horrified expression on your face. Perhaps he overstepped, but you weren’t thinking about that, only about the person he was about to run over, standing right in the middle of the road.

“Look out!”

It was all a blur, the swerving, the uncontrolled movements of the tires. It was poetic in a way, the man you had at your heels had just torn his heart out, only for it to bleed as the vehicle crashed.

You gasped, black coating your vision as bent metal pinched at all your sides. Metallic blood scented the air as tv static coated your brain.

The last thing you saw, as your vision turned black, was glowing white eyes and bleached bone.

#call of duty modern warfare #cod #simon ghost riley #modern warfare #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #tw death #tw dying #no one asked for this but I’m posting it anyway

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shadesofecclescakes · 27 days

Note

Are you a big fanfic reader? What have you read lately and what's been your favourite fic so far?

Oh mannnnnnnnn. Why don't you ask me to pick a favourite child while you're at it???

Just kidding. I don't have kids. But I assume having to pick a favourite would be hard if I did.

So, am I a big fanfic reader? YES. And what haven't I read lately? We are lucky enough to have so many talented writers in this fandom that it's possible to subscribe to numerous multi-chapter fics to the point where you're just constantly getting update emails. Which I do. It's great. It gives me something to do at work aside from, y'know, work.

*Me at work being smug about being paid to read porn* (Also I just wanted to look at this gif)

So what is currently on my endless update list? Coming up after the cut!

I am an absolute whore for human AU, so if you like that then you will probably like:

The Cure for a Broken Heart by @rofell

a medical student AU based in the Canadian medical system (I'm a Canadian so I was pretty excited about that). It manages to tackle the continued systemic discrimination of Indigenous people in our medical system (and in general), homophobia and the ensuing trauma from those things all while also being informative, funny, sweet, romantic and hot af. Like. It's so good.

Free by @maaikeatthefullmoon

This is another one with with a heavy topic that also does a great job of making sure to break it up with some excellent fluff, hurt/comfort and humorous moments. And it's handled with the sensitivity and thoughtfulness necessary to write something that takes place in a mental health ward and deals with some intense situations. Definitely make sure to read those author notes before diving in. They lay it out very thoroughly.

The Sincere Way by @tsyvia48

A martial arts AU. Crowley is a karate sensei and Aziraphale is his student. Slow burn that keeps you on the edge. The screams I have scrumt at my screen over this one. Plus you learn a lot about karate (but it never gets boring or over-explainey. Excellently balanced) which is pretty cool. Mostly light (there is some angst. This is the Good Omens fandom. I think we are all sad, wet chihuahuas at heart). Funny and sweet.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley

Plus One by @caedmonfaith

Astronaut AU. Aziraphale is an astronaut who meets his mission controller, Crowley, over the comms system when he finds himself in need of assistance.

Super cool concept and really well-done in my opinion. Like, I don't do any space or physics-related work (ok I straight-up failed math 9) but I find it entirely believable. And it's well-written which is the entire point. Cute, funny slow burn with an intriguing mystery happening in the background.

Aziraphale has family money but a shitty family (except for Muriel! Never Muriel!) and his shitty brother Gabriel is getting married to shitty Michael, an Earl's daughter.

Aziraphale's family disproves of his entire life pretty much and he has been lying to them about having a boyfriend. Now they are expecting him to bring said boyfriend to the wedding. His famous footballer friend sets him up with their mechanic, Crowley.

It starts as a slow-burn but becomes a hilarious, smutty romp that just gets more and more insane. The chapter titles alone have made me cackle out loud.

Some older human AUs I'm a huge fan of include Old Vines by @sevdrag. Crowley owns a vineyard and Aziraphale is a wine critic. It is so amazingly written. It makes me think of the author Joanna Harris (Chocolat, The Five Quarters of the Orange) because it's SO beautifully, vividly descriptive that I end up craaaaaving wine. So have a bottle on hand if you're giving this a read.

Also the love story in this. My god. I devoured it. The story and the (many bottles of) wine.

There is also Loosely Ballroom by marginalia_device and mortifyingideal. It's a Strictly Come Dancing (Dancing with the Stars in North America) AU and it is so. Fucking. Good.

But it comes with a disclaimer. It's unfinished and looks likely to stay that way. But honestly? Still worth it. It's nearly finished (I think) so you have most of the story. And it's just SO good. It's been a while since I read it but it was one of the first human AUs I read and what got me hooked on them.

If you're still with me...nice! Just know that was me holding back and that isn't my entire list by a long shot. If you want more recs, feel free to message me and also share your own!

I just finished Slow Show the actor AU by @mia-ugly and yes please.

Some serious angst, pining and hot hot smut.

There is another long-form multi-chapter actor au I loooved but I can't remember the name for the life of me. Just that the show they were on was basically good omens and that they swapped roles with great success (inspired by the whole Michael thinking Neil wanted him to play Crowley when he wanted Aziraphale thing).

Thanks for the ask! That was really fun!

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fan fiction #good omens fic rec #good omens fanfic rec #ask

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nativehueofresolution · 6 months

Text

i find the gerri backstory lore that we've gotten across several interviews to be interesting for many reasons - but it stands out to me how much potential insight it gives into gerri's side of romangerri. j smith-cameron's mentioned gerri's husband baird being quite a bit older than her and being an important figure at waystar, and that was kind of gerri's way in to waystar. connor suggests in "dundee" that there was a possible affair between logan and gerri when she was "the new thing", and j and brian cox have both said they believe there was probably a mutual attraction that didn't go anywhere due to logan's respect for her husband - it's been indicated in interviews baird/gerri and logan/caroline were quite close friends at one time, which is supported by the fact they were shiv's godparents.

i don't imagine present day gerri has any regrets about not sleeping with logan per se - she takes care to avoid mess - but on the other hand, i can see it being a little irritating that the deal-breaker in this equation was the fact that gerri was 'claimed' by another man. and given the culture of waystar and the business world in general, i think it probably took a long time for gerri to stop being thought of as 'baird's wife' and having to endure jokes about sleeping her way up with baird and/or logan (the fact that connor apparently clocked their attraction i think means others would have too, even if it was never consummated).

roman on the other hand doesn't even remember gerri's marriage or baird at all until he gets some serious prompting, and he clearly thinks of gerri's role as something due to her merit - she's got killer instincts and is good at her job. he has a childlike reliance on her ability to get him out of trouble at times, but that's again based on his ideas of gerri being really smart and powerful so she can save me, not any potential connections. she's firmly her own person in roman's mind (as much as any non-roy is a person to roman). so now gerri has this princeling who's obsessed with her - and suddenly she's on the other side of the equation as the older partner with a young flame, and he just so happens to be the son of the man who passed on an affair with her but he has no thoughts about her late husband and in fact repeatedly pursues her while she has other boyfriends. i think there's kind of a power rush that would come from that role reversal. from having to claw her way up from being a powerful man's pretty young wife to now being the older woman a powerful younger man desires because of her domineering qualities; from being dismissed by the father to chased after by the son; roman suggesting a relationship that's a combination of business and pleasure so she can help him land ceo after living through many years of insinuations she was angling for that type of arrangement. quite apart from the ways in which roman's feelings for her are a useful tool, i think it'd be hard from her to completely ignore the satisfaction the role reversal brings.

of course, it's not a true reversal, and gerri knows that - she understands that she will never truly outrank him and so giving him power over her is dangerous, so she never fully goes for it. roman sexually harasses her and she's punished for it; roman throws her under the bus when it suits him and tries to brush off how her career has been derailed because of his actions. but even so, i think the illusion of being on the other side of the power/sexual dynamics she's had in the past would continue to have a certain sway for her.

#i admire how the show never really dives deep into characters' backstories and is very present day focused.#the bad version of succession would have so many flashbacks #but that said i think that these backstories are out there to find because they add a lot of interesting dimensions #romangerri #gerri kellman #succession #kaitlin speaks

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beanmachine69 · 9 months

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can you please right a lance stroll fic where they both love each other but don’t know it yet?

Blankets | Lance Stroll

The season had ended, it was early December and as per tradition, your families were in their cabin in the mountains. It was a silly cliche, but over the years you’d grown to look forward to it, especially since Lance started his f1 career and you two would rarely get to relax together like you usually would. Having grown up around each other, you two were practically inseparable; falling into all the childhood best-friend categories you could find. You’d support his career as much as you could, cheering him on from home and sometimes the paddock- you two were seen so often together that at some point some dating rumors had sprung up too.

You had known Lance all your life, you two had spent most of your childhood together. He was almost two years older than you, which made you the youngest of the bunch and though Chloe always treated you like a little sister, hanging out with her wasn’t always an option because of the major age difference. Your families had been together for generations, your fathers being family friends since they were kids themselves too- the Strolovich family feeling like your own second home.

“Fires’ nice and warm outside.” Your mother commented, passing the lounge to reach the kitchen, “You two sure you wanna stay here in front of the TV?”

“Yeah, I’m not in the mood to hang out with my drunk father, that's your job.” You replied, eyes still plastered on the large screen in front of you.

“You both become the same person when you’re drunk y’know.” Lance mumbled, eyes not moving to look at your phony expression of betrayal.

You playfully shoved him away from you, only for him to bounce back and press his side against you again. You two were always close, having had very little physical boundaries around one another as you grew up. You’d had plenty of cozy moments, none of them meaning anything more than what they were to either one of you. Albeit, this proximity would look far more romantic than platonic to strangers, you two had learned to keep it reserved for private spaces, the last thing you needed were more rumors for Lance to have to deal with later.

Movie nights at the cabin were more than what the rest of your families had understood them to be. You could still recall how you two would bond over these nights, and how often you’d whisper secrets to each other in the blanket- secrets that neither of you would have the guts to share face-to-face. You had told Lance about your awful first kiss while some silly 90s’ comedy movie played, and he had told you about his first failed talking stage while you both rewatched Criminal Minds for the millionth time. These shared moments under the blanket and in front of the TV were sacred to the both of you, it was like a little safe space for any and all confessions, it was these moments which made your bond so inseparable; under the blankets, with the faint light of the television seeping through the fabric to illuminate the cozy space as the conversation was muffled from others by the blanket and the background noise- it was a weird tradition, but one which you both cherished.

You didn’t mind horror movies, or the genre in general, but perhaps binging a bunch with Lance late into the night in a cabin far from civilization wasn’t the best possible idea. So there you were now, afraid in your bed after having been forced by the instagram algorithm to continue your horror binge, alone in your room with all the curtains drawn out of the fear of a mountain creature. Your fear was irrational, you had no reason to be as scared as you were, but it still managed to keep you from falling asleep. You decided if you were going to be consumed by a horror beyond human comprehension, you might as well get a snack before doing so.

The walk downstairs to the kitchen was frightening enough, but now you could hear the wind a lot clearer now, and every breath that escaped you seemed to sound unlike your own, your own shadow frightening you with every surface that it fell on. As you began to eat the chips you and Lance had bought earlier, your mind managed to consume itself in more theories and possibilities- kidnapping, demonic possession, a gruesome death by the hands of a wendigo, could Slenderman be here somewhere?-

“What are you doing up?”

Those five words were enough for your brain to completely haywire, accepting all possible scenarios to be true all at once, your flight or fight response kicked in, making you scream and drop your chips. Not particularly fight or flight, but it was something, in the case of any of the terrifying scenarios you had pictured earlier to come true, this would have possibly been the last sign of you your family or friends would have heard.

“Jeez, why are you screaming?” Lance laughed, aware of how his efforts to spook you had worked out.

“Oh my God Lance, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” You scolded, shoving him in the arm.

Your hand was on your chest, feeling your heart pounding from the sudden burst of adrenaline.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d shit yourself.” Lance continued to laugh, clearly finding amusement in your reaction.

You rolled your eyes as you tried clearing up the little mess you made by dropping the chips on the floor; Lance stayed in the kitchen, wordlessly grabbing you a replacement and one for himself too. You two stood there, not saying a word, only looking at the remnants of the fireplace outside as you finished your snack.

“It’s really cold.” You mumbled, eyes on the burnt out logs.

“Hm? Yeah.” He replied, moving his eyes from the window and back to you.

The kitchen was dimly lit, with neither of you bothering to turn on any more lights than the countertop lighting that was already on. It was cozy, but for some reason the house was still cold despite the central heating. There was a dense silence between you two, your breathing being a silent acknowledgement of the other person, it was comfortable to be in someones’ presence and not feel the need to fill the space with words.

“I can’t sleep.” Lance sighed, breaking the silence and prompting you to turn around to face him instead of the window.

“What, you scared?” You asked, teasingly nudging him a bit.

His features looked enhanced in the dim light of the kitchen. You were never one to pay attention to how his face looked in different lighting, but the scarce light emitting from the below the cabinets and above the counters deepened his features; his brows almost seemed to cast a shadow over his dark eyes, making them seem black almost, the light shadows under his cheekbones and jaw seemed to be darkened in the sparse lighting- he almost looked intimidating to you for the first time. He didn’t seem like the pleasant and joyful friend you knew, but some serious and solemn man for a moment, only for a fleeting moment did you see that version- momentarily you quite literally saw him in a different light.

“Shut it, do you wanna go upstairs? You could hang out in my room for a bit.”

The moment passed faster than it had appeared, making you question whether it had ever appeared or not.

“Sure.”

Lance propped himself against the headboard, watching you as you sat across from him on the chair. The room was surprisingly cold too, was the heater not working or were you just cold?

“You never told me about that date you went on by the way.” Lance asked, putting his phone away from him; a gesture he did often to indicate his undivided attention was directed at you.

“Which one?” You asked, not recalling any dates in the past few weeks.

You brought your legs up on the chair, closer to your chest in order to prevent the cold you were feeling. His eyes followed your movement, tracing every bend and taking into account all of the little gestures you made, including the little hook your fingers made when you were confused.

“Y’know that stupid date your friend set you up with? The IT guy from the US?” Lance probed further, reminding you of an old date which you had successfully forgotten all about.

“Oh that’s old stuff.” You mumbled, arms wrapping around your knees.

“Yeah we haven’t really got a chance to sit down and talk for a while.”

“I guess…” You trailed off, distracted by the surprise you felt by how cold it was and how Lance seemed to just not care for it.

“So, the date?”

“Right, yeah no it went fine, but I don’t know he just wasn’t it.” You replied, shrugging and sparing him the details.

Lance pouted a bit, before adjusting his posture so he was lying down more than sitting up and patting the sheets next to him.

“Come on, you’re clearly freezing.” He noted, steering the conversation to a completely different route.

You didn’t think much of it, you two would sleep in the same bed plenty of times when you were kids, it wasn’t odd at all. Even now, when Lance would crash at your house he’d sleep in your bed next to you- it wasn’t odd it was just the comfort you two had with each other. So when you crawled under the sheets and scooted closer to Lance, the both of you ignored the way your eyes locked for a moment.

“So, what was wrong with him? What made him not it?”

Aversion. That’s what one would call it; he averted his eyes and changed the topic, that moment where your eyes locked as you moved closer to him under his sheets in his bed was nothing but a fleeting moment.

“I don’t know Lance, he just wasn’t my type.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have a type.”

“I don’t… it’s just that I guess I hate having to get to know people romantically, it just seems like such a bother. Plus, remember the hell I had to be put through the last time that happened?”

Your ex wasn’t the peachiest person imaginable; he was manipulative and constantly accusing you of having a more complex relationship with Lance than you would admit to. “You two look at each other like nothing else matters, you don’t even look at me like that!”, accompanied often with several “There’s no way you two are just friends!”. His words hadn’t affected the friendship you had with Lance, obviously, but it did put a damper on the amount of time you two would spend with each other. In the end it truly wasn’t worth it considering he cheated on you with his own best friend.

“God, he was a dick.” Lance mumbled, scooting lower on his bed and completely lying down, bringing the blanket up till his neck.

“Yeah, getting cheated on isn’t fun.” You mumbled, covering your face with the blanket; not because you were ashamed or wanted to hide your face, but because you were cold and your nose felt like it was going to freeze.

“Oh my god, how cold are you?” Lance asked, accompanying you under the blankets, swatting them a bit so the thick material wouldn’t hide your face from him. He reached over to grab your hand, only to let out a small yelp after feeling how cold they were. “Woah, you’re fucking freezing.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I’m this cold.” You replied.

There wasn’t much need to ask or say anything, words weren’t a necessity in communication between you two sometimes. He just knew you well enough to know what you’d need and you knew the same, and so he covered the distance, and wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a warm hug.

Several moments had passed and though you were still feeling cold, his body heat had managed to warm you up enough for it to not be a problem. As an unspoken token of appreciation, you had begun gently rubbing your fingertips on his scalp, something you knew he liked.

“Do you remember when we were teens and we’d sneak into each other's rooms like this and watch all the shows we weren’t allowed to watch?” Lance whispered, not needing to talk at a higher volume due to the proximity.

“We used to sneak into each others’ rooms all the time, remember that annoying nanny our parents would bring along? That old lady who was convinced we were up to no good?” You laughed, remembering how often she’d complain to your parents about your antics and how Lance wasn’t a good influence on a young girl like you.

“Oh God, she was the worst. She used to be on your ass about everything, she always said you weren’t proper enough.”

“Ooh ooh, remember when we managed to sneak out with Chloe and go to that party with her friends in the summer?” You chimed, remembering something completely off-topic.

“Yeah, that time her friends forced us to kiss in that stupid truth or dare game, I swear I told your dumbass to sit next to me but you just had to sit next to that stupid guy.” Lance scoffed.

“Oh my God yeah, that was my first kiss.” You replied, recalling how flushed you were and how glad you were now to have that memory be with someone like Lance and not with some weird, much older guy.

“Wait, really?! I thought that was just something you were messing about!” He pulled away to look at you better.

“No! Why would I lie about that?!” You asked, pulling away from his chest a little too, craning your neck to look at his face.

“I…. I don’t know.” Lance replied after thinking for a while, pulling you back into his chest to avoid having to look you in the eye, “I guess I didn’t want to believe that your first kiss was with me.”

“Why not?” You asked, the question laced with confusion and several different emotions you couldn’t identify, “I never told you about my first kiss, I always thought you knew it was you.”

A silence fell between you two, a sort of uncomfortable silence which made your hand stop stroking his hair, and made his grip on you loosen a bit. The cold hit again and though Lance was still close, it just didn’t seem like enough; for the first time in your life-long friendship you felt like a wedge had made its’ way in a moments’ notice, drawing you two apart.

You had told him the night it had happened, on the way back to your house, you leaned in and told him that he was your first kiss. It was the earliest stages of his racing career, just a little before he debuted in F4. It was so long ago, you had forgotten about it, it really was just a silly little dare, but now you felt like you’d imposed a boundary you didn’t know existed.

The silence between you two had lasted longer than either of you would prefer, yet neither of you had mustered the courage to disrupt this silence, hiding behind it from one another like you had never done before. The cold began to make its presence known to you once again, the blanket not providing much comfort any longer.

He had never given it much thought, it really wasn’t a big deal and he wasn’t upset, rather just confused. He had been looking forward to this family vacation more than he usually would, and until he saw and hugged you, he couldn't seem to figure out why. You were his best-friend and as cliche and silly as the title sounded, he couldn’t ever just call you a friend, you were so much more than that, yet whenever anyone called you his sister he’d just end up feeling uncomfortable; he’d never seen you in that light, the thought was just weird. Realizing that he was your first kiss made him feel something he had previously averted from a few moments ago, except now, aversion wasn’t something he could do- it wasn’t something he wanted to do. He understood the reason that he hadn’t consciously accepted the fact that he was your first kiss was because he knew he liked the idea far more than he should have; he liked that he was your first kiss and he liked the idea of having that card over all the other men you had dated, he liked that you two had shared that sentiment, he liked that he was your first and most importantly: he liked the idea of kissing you.

The situation felt awkward and you mentally decided it would be better off to just go back to your room, and so you did, quietly moving out of his bed and making your way to your own room. You had gone as far as tucking yourself in till your thoughts finally started piling on.

What if I pissed him off? Why did he get so quiet? Did I fuck things over? God, how did I manage to mess up the one friendship I thought would last forever? Why does it matter, we’re just friends and the idea of us kissing shouldn’t ruin a life-long friendship, should it? Unless he has another girlfriend again, God I really don’t want to have to go through that again, Wait, why not? It shouldn’t matter if he dates someone, right? I mean I haven’t been the biggest fan of his exes but who am I to-

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the door to your room open, followed by shuffled footsteps and a weight on your bed. You turned to make out what you correctly assumed to be Lance, crawling under the blanket with you. You heard a huff of breath as he got comfortable, wrapping his warm arms around you again and pulling you into him once more.

You were confused momentarily, not having been able to completely exit your mind palace before you had to register all that happened. However, it only took you a few moments to adjust before you hugged him back, adjusting yourself against him slightly before fitting perfectly into his arms.

“Do you remember how we’d sit under the blanket and cover ourselves completely in our blanket forts to talk in private when we were younger?” Lance asked, his smile almost audible in his words as he recalled the memory, not addressing the conversation earlier.

“Yeah,” You chuckled, “We’d call for ‘blanket meetings’ and all….”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m kind of calling for one right now.” He said, pulling away slightly, preparing to hold the blanket over your heads.

You didn’t need to say anything, you smiled as you grabbed your phone and sat up, adjusting yourself under the blanket as Lance sat up too, the blanket forming a little tent around you two as his head held it in place. It took a little more shuffling around till you both were completely covered and comfortable and it was then when you pulled out your phone, turning on the flash and placing it in between you two so you could see each other. Having done this your whole lives, you two knew exactly what to do.

“God, the blankets seemed so much bigger when we were kids.” You laughed.

“The blankets were always big on you, pipsqueak.” Lance laughed.

“Oh, fuck off.” You laughed, “Alright, so why did you call this meeting?”

“Oooh, professional.” Lance laughed, locking eyes with you as his laugh faded.

“If it’s about our conversation earlier, then I don’t really wanna talk about that, can we just go back to pretending that that never happened?” You asked, eyes averting his.

“No, we can’t. I don’t want to pretend like that didn’t happen, if anything I’m really glad you had your first kiss with me, I’m a much better option than that creep you thought was cute, if anything I was the best option in that whole party.” Lance spoke, voice hushed to match the vibe.

“I mean yeah… Wait, did you just say you were the best option? You know my ex was there too, right? I mean sure we dated after years but we met for the first time at that stupid party.” You recalled, ready to contradict his statement, unsure of what your argument would be considering your ex was awful.

“Yeah, I stand by what I said.” Lance spoke, a determination present in his voice. “You know how I felt about that loser anyways.”

“Oh please, you never seemed to like any of the exes I have.” You scoffed.

“Like you like any of mine.” Lance scoffed in return, eyes still looking into yours despite your attempts at looking away.

“I mean-” You tried to defend yourself when he cut you off.

“Oh come on, you know we don’t like any of each other's exes.” Lance persisted.

“I mean yeah, but I don’t like them because I think you deserve better.” You replied, content with your argument.

There was a moment of silence before Lance spoke and in that moment you watched his face as he thought, the way his brows momentarily furrowed and how his brown doe-eyes looked into yours, not breaking contact and making you more nervous than you had anticipated.

“Well, I thought the same, y'know, I kept comparing them to me and how I’d treat you so much better than those losers.”

His statement was calculated, and you could tell. It had completely thrown you off and confused you beyond expression, it left you dumbfounded and staring at him with your mouth open to say words you knew didn’t exist.

“Come onn, You never thought about it? You’re telling me you didn’t think about the kiss all the time after it happened?” He probed, examining your face for a clearer answer.

To be fair, the second Lance had found out the kiss you shared was your first, a whole barrage of feelings and thoughts had bombarded his mind and he had no idea what to do or say, so when you walked off he barely registered what happened and when he did, he decided to resort to old tactics to talk to you and try to comfort you. Admittedly, Lance knew he should have understood that something was up when he realized that he didn’t hate the dating rumors between you two, nor did he hate the proximity you shared, if anything, Lance looked forward to these holiday retreats with your family because it meant you two could live together for a few days and he loved that- he also loved how close you two were and how in all honesty he truly wouldn’t want to date anyone but you. The realization that he had been comparing all his past relationships with you and why they’d never work out wasn’t something he had expected to come to so abruptly, yet here he was, risking everything for a whim.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want that to be our last kiss.” Lance smiled, hoping that this last statement would break the silent oath you seemed to have taken.

He leaned in closer, looking at you for a response, which you gave in the form of a small nod, before he gently landed his lips onto yours, holding your face as the blankets around you readjusted to the movement. His hold was gentle, like he was scared he’d hurt you or something, while your lips clumsily, eventually found a rhythm.

You were bright red when you two pulled away for air. You mentally cursed yourself for turning the flash on. The prospect of you two being more than friends always seemed like a crazy thought, it always felt like something you felt wrong thinking about, like you weren’t allowed or something. But kudos to Lance for somehow always managing to understand what you two needed faster than you, whether it was making road-trip decisions or Tim Hortons’ order decisions, credit where credit was due, that man could read you like a book. And now he had made it apparent that he was capable of reading in between the lines too. You never knew you had wanted Lance more than a friend and now that the option was brought to your notice, you couldn’t, even for a moment, consider giving it up. The kiss hadn’t lasted long, but it had erupted feelings in you that had laid dormant for far too many years, all of which overwhelmed you enough to not think of your decision again before crashing your lips back onto his, this time allowing your hands to find the back of his head to push him into the kiss, which he enthusiastically reciprocated, his hands landing on your waist to pull your whole body closer. Suddenly, air didn’t seem like much of a necessity as the kiss deepened and you two got more comfortable against each others’ lips. It wasn’t till you two pulled away again, locking gazes as your chests heaved against each other, stupid grins adorning both of your faces.

“Why didn’t we come to this realization earlier?” You asked.

“I don’t know… I’m just glad we came to it, better late than never no?” He laughed.

Now you didn’t feel so guilty admiring the way his face scrunched up when he laughed and how the skin around his nose crinkled and how you could see the slight gap between his side teeth and his front teeth. There was so much about him that you had mentally noted and admired that seeing him this close didn’t even feel like anything new- it was just Lance after all.

“I still can’t believe I was your first kiss and we still didn’t do anything up till now.” Lance smiled, his lips parting to show his teeth.

“I mean, I don’t know I didn’t really understand what I was feeling till now I guess.” You mumbled through a smile, lips barely moving to get the words out.

“I know, I think we’re on the same page.” Lance replied, pulling you in for a hug, the blanket finally beginning to feel warm again.

“I want you to be my last too.” You laughed, wondering if he’d get the reference.

“Seriously? You’re quoting one direction right now?” Lance asked, exhaling as he felt your body against him, warming him from the cold he hadn’t even realized he was feeling.

“Always the right time to quote One Direction.” You laughed, knowing you were the reason he’d secretly be listening to them now.

“That reference barely made any sense y’know, technically they talk about wanting to be the listeners last first kiss, not their first and last kiss.” He corrected you with a cocky grin you could practically hear.

“Anndd you ruined the moment.”

“You’re welcome.”

A/N: I'm so sorry for posting this so late! completely forgot about it, hope you like it nonetheless<3

Also, no I have no shame throwing in a One Direction reference in like that heh

As usual, criticism and requests can all be sent in through the ask box!

#lance stroll fluff #f1 fic #f1 fluff #lance stroll one shot #lance stroll fic #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll x reader #f1 blurb #friends to lovers

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eddiernunson · 4 months

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Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie’s general appearance.

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when I wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie’s energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

I'm posting a sneak at this one, because it was a surprisingly close call. I'm not sure when I'll be done, tbh. But here's the first 900 words!

As the night swallowed you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car while she drives you to the ER. While rough housing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you roll your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sat in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain at each one. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called to the back as you read the memes and watch with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

Your eyes flick onto someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally in the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Somehow, he was just so enticing, everything about him drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage, wondering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and white tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

If you want to be tagged when the full fic is posted, just let me know in the replies. Again, I have no idea when that will happen, it's not done yet. Maybe this'll give me the motivation i need

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic

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6lostgirl6 · 11 months

Text

Ties That Bind Part 1

Pairing: Yandere!Anakin Skywalker x Fem Jedi!Reader

TW: General Yandere Behavior, Kidnapping, Mentions of Murder

A/N: I am very excited to be sharing another wonderful collab with the amazing person @britany1997! She has been very supportive and an absolute joy to work with! We have shared many laughs together while working on this fic! She is a very talented writer and friend and you should send her your love! She deserves it! I love you Britany! ❤️

Word Count: 2.3k

Sweat pooled around Anakin as he sprang forward in bed, gasping in a haze of fear and anger. His head fell to his hands as he struggled to catch his breath.

Sleep had eluded him for months as every night ended the same, with visions of your corpse flashing through his tortured mind.

Anakin discarded his blanket in frustration, grabbed your picture from his work bench, and sat on the floor to meditate.

His brow furrowed as he attempted to squash his rage and uncertainty, to let them go and let the force fill him with the comfort he needed.

But to let go of his emotion, would be to let go of you.

Though he mumbled to himself, ‘there is no emotion, there is peace, there is no passion, there is serenity,’ he couldn’t make himself believe that. You were his peace, you were his serenity.

He abandoned his meditation in a huff. Anakin liked to think he was a patient man, a good Jedi. Yet how could he sit back and do nothing? The visions would never stop, it was time to take matters into his own hands.

Despite his failures at meditating and stopping his mind from whirling, he was struck by a solution. He was deep in concentration, staring at the ground, your picture nestled against his uncovered chest.

The visions would undoubtedly stop if he could protect you and keep you safe from harm. What if the force hadn't been working against him after all? He was immediately filled with purpose, a fire in his eyes that couldn't ever be extinguished. He will defend you even if it means doing the unthinkable and abandoning the Jedi code.

What other reason would there be besides protecting the one you loved the most, even if it required being selfish? Absolutely nothing was of greater significance than you, his long-time friend, whom he had been pining over for many years. The forbidden feelings he could no longer ignore. There was no greater reason, no other reason, than you.

It was all for love.

Despite the summons from the Chancellor, Anakin thought the Galaxies Opera House was well worth the journey through Coruscant. Though the visions of your impending death haunted him, Squid Lake, a strange ballet performed by a team of Mon Calamari acrobats, calmed his worries and enabled his mind to focus on something far more pleasant. He wished he could take you to one as lovers rather than as companions one day once you are away from harm. The Chancellor, however, required his attention once more.

His eyes were focused ahead as he said, "The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power." The Chancellor’s face bore a deep and serious expression.

“The Sith rely on their passion for their strength; they think inwards, only about themselves.” Anakin answered back firmly, turning his head towards him as he spoke.

“And the Jedi don’t?” asked the Chancellor, turning his attention towards Anakin without wavering, his eyes never leaving his face.

“The Jedi are selfless, they only care about others.” Anakin spoke strongly, turning his attention forward, just before the Chancellor continued to speak, making Anakin's blood run cold.

“Although they prevent you from loving freely in accordance with your own desires. They would never approve of your love for your friend or the things you would do for her.” He spoke with a voice filled with stomach-churning truth. “Your companion, (Y/N).”

Anakin turned to face the older man, his eyes wide with surprise as he whispered quietly. "How did you know-"

"I know many things, Anakin." He responded. "You say they are selfless and care about others. But what would the council say if they learned of your hidden desires, your affection that you have for your fellow Jedi?"

For once, Anakin couldn't speak because the Chancellor's words struck him deeply. His eyes were fixed on the opera playing ahead of him as he slowly sunk into his chair. He wasn't watching the event, though; instead, he was fixated on his thoughts, his visions of your approaching demise, and the possibility that the council would learn of his feelings for you. They'd shun him. He couldn't save you if they were in the way. His heart was pounding, and his mind was racing.

It was the Chancellor's voice that silenced his racing thoughts.

“You ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the wise?”

No, he would not let them stop him from loving you, from saving you.

Your saber clashed against Anakin’s as you traded swipes back and forth. He smirked as you narrowly missed his shoulder. You stuck out your tongue in reply.

It’d probably be easier to spar with someone else, you and Anakin had trained together as Padawans, practically grown up together. He knew every move you’d make before you could even think to make it. But, unfortunately for him, you could anticipate his every move as well.

You leaped as he swiped his saber at your feet, “missed again Ani,” you teased. You noticed a strange expression cross his face when you uttered his name, but it quickly vanished.

“You’re lucky today,” he smirked, “but luck runs out.” Anakin swiped his foot behind yours, causing you to tumble onto your back, he stood over you, lightsaber pointed towards your chest.

You groaned, “fine, I yield.”

He chuckled as he switched his weapon off and offered you his arm to pull you to your feet. “Better luck next time?” he teased.

“Ha ha,” you mumbled humorlessly, as you allowed him to pull you up.

"Let's not pretend you didn't cheat, Ani." You continued jokingly. You leaned over to grab your fallen lightsaber when you failed to notice the unknown expression resurfacing on his face. However, it did not completely disappear, his darkening eyes fixated on your body, images racing through his mind of scenarios unsuitable for a Jedi.

He adored it when you addressed him as such.

His expression returned to normal as you straightened up, and he had a mischievous smile on his face once again. "Never, ever underestimate your opponent." He chuckled as he extinguished his lightsaber and attached the hilt to his belt.

“Yeah, Yeah.” You replied, the smile refusing to vanish from your expression.

"Come now; I only tease." Anakin remarked softly, staring at you with a more genuine smile, one that could compete with the sun if he so desired. Since you were both padawans, he has consistently been an enchanting man. He had a way of charming himself out of most trouble and making one's heart feel like it was going to burst.

This was a secret you kept hidden within your heart for many years, the sentiments you had for Anakin that were more than just friendship. However, according to the Jedi code and attachment regulations, you did everything you could to drive those emotions away. Your feelings got less difficult to disguise as you practiced meditation and late-night self-reflection. In addition, you knew in your core that Anakin was an exceptionally gifted Jedi and that your affections for him were never going to be reciprocated.

“Everything alright?”

You recovered from your subconscious, glancing at Anakin as he stood directly in front of you, his eyebrows furrowed in slight concern.

"Yes, I'm sorry." You replied before reactivating your lightsaber, your eyes bright with purpose and your smile returning. "Let's continue."

After many long hours of trading blows, you and Anakin were huffing, your foreheads drenched with sweat.

“Call it a night?” you asked as Anakin wiped his brow clean.

“Mhmm,” he hummed in reply, “it’s late, want an escort back to your quarters?”

You laughed. He didn’t.

“No Ani it’s fine,” you promised, “I think I can manage the couple of steps it takes to get there.”

“It’s on my way anyway,” he protested.

You shot him a confused expression, “on your way to where?”

“To the archives,” he told you nonchalantly, “I needed to look into something.”

Your brow furrowed, “look into what?”

He groaned, tugging gently at your arm, “just let me escort you.”

“Fine, fine,” you reluctantly caved.

He offered you his shoulder, a smirk painted on his face. You scoffed and punched his arm instead, causing a soft laugh to fall from his lips.

He smiled and shook his head at your stubbornness, you never made anything easy. But it didn’t matter, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

The walk to your quarters passed quickly as you exchanged stories with Anakin. You clutched your stomach as tears rolled down your cheeks as he told you the story of his last battle with General Grevious. Anakin had spent so much time with Obi Wan over the years, Anakin’s impression of his sarcastic banter was spot on.

“Well this is me,” you joked, gesturing to your door. Anakin nodded but didn’t move to head towards the archives.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, “…so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He seemed to snap from his momentary trance, “yes of course,” Anakin hesitated, “do you need anything else before I go?”

Your head cocked to one side, “no, not really.”

Walking you to your room had been strange in itself, this was ridiculous. “Ani…” you bit your lip, “are you ok?”

Anakin seemed taken aback by your sudden question, “of course,” he composed himself, “I better be off to the archives, I’ll see you for training in the morning.”

You watched him walk off before slipping into your room. You sat down to meditate, but you couldn’t rid your mind of Anakin’s weird behavior. Something wasn’t right.

You sighed, coming to terms with the fact that you would not be one with the force tonight and crawling into bed. As you drifted to sleep a thought popped into your head.

Weren’t the archives in the opposite direction?

Anakin sent a glass flying into his wall in frustration. He watched as it shattered, spraying shards onto the floor around his work desk.

He threw his head into his hands. He could monopolize your training time, walk you to your quarters every night, wake up early to be at your door every morning.

But it would only take one second, one second where he left you alone, one second where he wasn’t right by your side, one second and you were gone forever.

If he balled his fists any harder, his fingernails would slice the skin. He knew what he had to do. You might hate him for a moment, but he could live with that.

But if you died? There was no living if not with you.

The Jedi Temple was destroyed.

Your fellow Jedi were slaughtered in cold blood.

You could feel your heart frantically beating as you rushed through the halls of pure massacre, the walls forever tarnished by the horrors that had been committed. Fellow Jedi that you’ve trained with are lying on the floor lifeless, and some are in cauterized pieces. You felt like you could throw up at any moment, the hilt of your lightsaber held in your shaky grasp. You were in a state of delirium; your thoughts were filled with dueling lightsabers and people screaming in fear. However, there was one thing that was absolutely certain.

You needed to find Anakin.

‘Please, let him be safe.’ You thought to yourself as you managed to turn a corner, your other hand gripping your ribcage, your heart threatening to explode. ‘By the force, please protect him.’

You were anxious to find him, yet filled with dread. Your mind was racing with images of his form in pieces, his eyes lifeless without any warmth. It almost made the journey too much to bear.

You rounded another corner that led towards the entrance of one of the temple’s many great halls. As you pushed through the entrance, a heavy feeling filled your chest, and you were completely unable to go any further. Your eyes were wide, and you could feel your breath failing you.

As you gazed into the distance, you noticed a familiar figure, clad in a brown robe with a hood covering his face, that you had never failed to recognize, even at a distance. As the figure walked towards you, a large group of clone soldiers followed behind him, weapons drawn. In his hand was his own lightsaber, which he clutched tightly in his grasp.

Anakin.

"Ani!” You cried, disengaging your lightsaber and rushing towards him with tears in your eyes, prepared and ready to meet him with a sense of relief.

You threw your arms around him, tears rolling down your face as you sobbed. He returned your embrace, arms wrapping around the small of your back, pulling you into his chest.

“Ani,” you muttered between sobs, “I’m so glad you’re ok, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

He tightened his grip on your waist, holding you close, “I know what you mean…”

You sniffled as you tried to gather yourself, “Anakin, so many lives…” you hiccuped, “what happened.”

“Only what needed to.”

“What?” you exclaimed as you looked up to meet his eyes.

The sight of his blood stained face made you gasp. No. This wasn’t the Anakin you knew. This couldn’t be happening.

But it was. The man you’d carried a torch for all these years, your best friend and confidant, stood before you, clothed in the blood of your friends.

You pushed against his chest, trying to escape from his grasp but he refused to let you go. He held you tightly against him with one arm, using his other hand to brush hair from your face affectionately. A gesture that once would have made you blush now filled you with malice.

“I know you don’t understand now, but you will my love,” he whispered, “now sleep.”

“Anakin…no…” you fought a losing battle to keep your eyes open. You were strong in the force, but Anakin was stronger.

Your head lulled to the side as you fell asleep in his arms.

Taglist:

@prettywhenibleed @leiasolo77 @britany1997 @misslavenderlady @arianamhm @rottent33th @slaasherslut

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 5 months

Text

The Babysitter (36)

Surprise Trip

MILF Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 36- W/c 5.4k

Tag list- @natsluttt @cerberus-spectre @dorabledewdroop @bibliophilicbi @hopelesslyfallenninlove @simpform1lfs @get-the-fuck-outta-here @natashaswife4125 @marvelwomen-simp @supercorpstan97 @aliherreraaa @aru-son @the-ox-fan20

Surprise Trip

Closing the door and locking it quietly, a sigh of relief left you as you rested your head against the front door, overjoyed at being back home. To say work dragged would have been an understatement, the eight hour shift felt like a lifetime and you were so glad you were finished for the weekend, eager to spend as much time as possible wrapped up in either a duvet or Wanda's arms.

At the thought of the older woman, a smile crept onto your lips, your body finding enough energy to push yourself off the door and make a beeline for the living room in search of her and the mini Maximoffs. Your feet took you to the intended room, your body pausing at the door as you admired the scene in front of you, the smile on your lips widening at the domestic scene.

Tommy and Billy were wrapped up in the world of video games, elated after having finished school for summer, and now suddenly interested in Minecraft as you had mentioned it a while ago, the two of them playfully bickering on how they should build their house, ultimately disagreeing. You chuckled quietly under your breath as they quickly decided that they would just build two separate houses, a look of fear taking over Billy's face as it started to switch to night time, the sound of a zombie emitting from the Tv. Tommy's face soon switched to a similar look of terror as he saw a creeper following him, ready to explode, causing him to run away as fast as possible, Billy laughing at his brother's reaction.

Your attention was then drawn away from the two boys to Wanda, warmth bubbling in your chest at the mere sight of her. Her feet were tucked underneath her as one of her arms rested on the arm of the chair, her hand supporting her head as the other held a book, her eyes trained on the words as she absentmindedly played with a strand of her hair. Her auburn hair was tied in that messy bun that you loved so much, two strands falling to perfectly frame her face, the green of her eyes containing curiosity as she flipped over the page, gaze briefly switching from the book to check on the boys when she noticed your tired figure hovering by the door frame.

Her face softened at the sight of you, the various shades of green filling with love and tenderness as she effortlessly slipped the bookmark against the page, swiftly closing the book and placing it down on the coffee table as you slowly made your way over to her, the twins still too immersed in their game to notice you.

"Hey Detka," she whispered ever so softly, her arms wrapping around your body as she adjusted her position to let you lean against her, her touch comforting as you melted against her.

"Hey love," you mumble back, the sound muffled as your head rests against the crook of her neck, the warm skin lulling you into a relaxed state as you move your hand to find hers, fingers naturally interlocking with one another.

"How was work?" she softly asks, having a vague idea of what the answer would be. A muffled sigh of annoyance was all she got back to start with, her other hand moving to soothingly scratch at your scalp as she could tell you craved her touch at the moment, the older woman always able to read you so well.

"I hate old people," is all you mutter after a moment of silence making Wanda laugh angelically, her teeth biting down on her lip to stop herself from laughing anymore at your adorably annoyed state.

"I take it that work wasn't good then?" she teases gently, her fingers guiding you away from the safety of her neck, her index finger resting under your chin and tilting your head up to gaze into her enamoured eyes. The look was enough to have your small pout vanish, an inevitable smile appearing on your lips at her amused expression as she waits for you to elaborate.

"No," you mutter, further entertaining her with your displeased tone. You loved working at the Guardian's café as you loved your co-workers, the whole team just so easy to get along with, the only issue with the job was the customers. People were so rude. "This woman wanted to argue with me because apparently the milk in her coffee was too cold," you grumble, Wanda's hand cupping your jaw as you lean against her palm, eyes fluttering close as you remember the annoying woman's face.

"Oh Detka," Wanda coos, attempting to be comforting but she's too busy trying to not laugh at how stupid the scenario sounds.

"It's a hot drink, how could you tell if the milk was cold?" your voice a displeased groan as Wanda's lips meet your forehead, her lips tugging up into a smile as you continue to grumble about the customer, the threat of throwing hands with her cracking Wanda's composure.

Another string of angelic laughter spills from her lips, her head tilting at you in an endearing manner as you offer her an attempted pointed stare, the expression quickly fading into a smile at her loving look. Her fingers delicately brush a few strands of your hair back before returning to resting against your cheeks, thumbs gently brushing against your skin as she feels you slowly relax even more in her hands.

"If you want me to beat someone up for you Detka, just ask," she teases in a whisper before claiming your lips, unable to stop the small laugh that leaves you as you smile into the kiss, amazed at how someone could so easily fix your mood like she did.

Your eyes slowly flutter open after the kiss, meeting her softened green and losing yourself in them as you always did. It was impossible not to, the tender glint in them mesmerised you, the shades of enamoured green enchanted you, and the look of pure love had various emotions bubbling in your chest as if you were falling in love with her all over again.

"Y/n's back!" Tommy says, interrupting the moment you were having with Wanda, the boys having finally noticed you, causing your head to turn to look at them, Wanda's gaze still firmly locked on you.

"Do you want to see our houses?" Billy excitedly asks, looking between you and the screen as he moves his character to find the wooden structure, your smile widening at their enthusiasm as Tommy makes space on his beanbag for you to join him.

"Of course I do," your tone matching their exhilarated ones, your eyes meeting Wanda's once more with an apologetic look before moving to entertain her boys, her eyes unable to be torn away from you as she admired the sight of you with her children.

Wanda didn't know how to describe the emotions she felt whenever she saw you play with her boys in such a caring and genuine manner, her heart melting at every amazed look the twins would offer you, every smile that practically stretched from ear to ear on their faces. It was indescribable the love she felt for you in those moments as she simply sat back against the sofa and watched the three of you chat amongst yourselves, laughter spilling from all of your lips.

After a while, Wanda had to interrupt your playing as it was time for the boys to start getting ready for bed, needing to have a shower each and brush their teeth before being tucked in shortly after. The twins were reluctant to leave their game but as soon as Wanda's signature head tilt and raised brows were seen, they immediately saved the game and started to turn it off, a chuckle leaving you at how effective her motherly stare was. You followed the three of them upstairs as Wanda made sure at least one of them was going into their shared bathroom first, you deciding to have a shower of your own after your long, tiresome day, Wanda encouraging you to spend as long as you wanted in hers as she knew you loved the pressure and temperature of it.

Listening to her, you allowed yourself to relax in the shower as you felt the warm, soothing water hit your skin, trickling down your body and helping you relieve the tension in your muscles from the stress as you lost yourself to random thoughts. Your fingers grazed over one of the new soaps Wanda had gotten, your eyes scanning over the description of it and orange colouring, sparking a random tangent of thoughts about what came first, the colour orange or the fruit before you decided to stick to the vanilla one that was almost finished, loving the smell of it as it just reminded you of Wanda.

Eventually, you turned off the water and swiftly dried yourself off before wrapping a towel around your body, leaving the bathroom in search of some clothes to sleep in. You saw one of Wanda's old t-shirts hidden under a pile of clothes on the dresser after sliding on some underwear and sleep shorts, your fingers deftly slipping it from out of the pile and smiling fondly at the shirt. As you were putting it on, you remembered where you had seen it from, in one of the photos of Wanda during her 'emo' phase when Natalya showed you all the old photo albums, much to Wanda's disapproval.

"Are you stealing another one of my shirts?" Wanda asks as she walks into the room to see you sat on the edge of the bed, your hands holding a towel as you dry your hair.

"No..." you say with a cheeky tone, looking over your shoulder at the older woman who simply playfully shakes her head at you, climbing onto the bed behind you. She slips the towel out of your grasp and motions for you to face forwards, drying your hair for you as you feel her move your hair to the side, allowing her to place a kiss to your neck.

"Yes you are," she mumbles, smiling against your skin as she continues to dry your hair in the tranquil moment, the two of you just savouring the moment together. Your eyes gradually close at the soothing feeling of her hands working wonders against your head, body melting against hers that was pressed up behind you, the towel soon being discarded and quickly replaced with a brush until your hair was free of any knots. The feeling of her lips on your shoulder causes you to open your eyes again, her words gaining your attention. "I have a surprise for you," she whispers vaguely, your head tilting to look at her.

"Oh?" you say suggestively, eyes flickering down to her lips to which causes Wanda to momentarily forget what she was saying, a new idea entering her mind.

"Not that kind of surprise," she murmurs, kissing your forehead delicately in apology as she goes on to explain, "I'm taking you and the boys on a surprise trip tomorrow."

"Where are we going?" you immediately say, excitement evident in your tone as you move positions on the bed, moving to straddle her waist, arms wrapped around her neck loosely, fingers playing with the baby hairs at the back of her neck.

Your eagerness to know makes her chuckle, Wanda pressing another kiss to your lips as she just couldn't resist, her hands settling on your hips, fingers sliding under her shirt that you were wearing to trace random patterns against your skin.

"Did you not hear me just say surprise trip?" she asked humorously, smiling at your toothy grin that was engraved on your face.

"I'll act surprised," you whisper, leaning in for another kiss, ghosting her lips, "Please tell me."

"If I tell you, I wont get to see the look of shock on your face," she teases, making your brows furrow, pulling back from her face to search her eyes for any hints of mischief. When you can see a little, you squint your eyes at her, wanting her to crack but she keeps her calm expression.

"Am I going to like this surprise?" you ask cautiously, watching as she smirks a little before flipping the two of you over, her face hovering over yours as your body remains trapped under hers.

"Potentially," she whispers in response, nose brushing yours softly before she kisses you softly, your brows furrowing even more. "Now come on, it's time for bed as we can't lie in as long," she murmurs as she rolls to lay next to you, her arms pulling your body closer to hers as your face rests on the pillow mere inches from hers, your mind racing with thoughts as you gaze into her eyes, one thought leaving your lips without thinking.

"Wait, we have to get up earlier?" you say, fearful of losing precious time asleep.

"Only a little," she says, fingers still tracing random patterns against your skin, her leg sliding between yours as your limbs tangle together.

"I feel like our definition of 'a little' differs," you mutter, knowing that the older woman loved to wake up earlier than you, her lips pressing against yours to silence you and make you smile.

"Goodnight Detka," she whispers with a smile, your mind still cautious of the surprise as you murmur goodnight as well, nuzzling your face against her chest to help you try and drift off to sleep, eager to know what the surprise entailed.

***

When Wanda had told you she had a surprise trip planned for all of you, you expected a visit to a theme park, water park, a zoo, somewhere... fun. Not here. Never here.

"Wanda," you say, dragging out her name as you curiously look at the place in front of you, a hint of apprehension glimmering in your eyes as you meet the softening green at your expression. "Why are we at a farm?"

A soft chuckle leaves her at your tone, her eyes flickering over to the boys who are already speeding off, knowing where they are.

"We are here because it's a tradition," she says with an amused tone, her arm wrapping around yours as she leads you towards the entrance, Billy and Tommy impatiently waiting for the both of you. "Every summer I bring the boys here to see the animals and play with them, it's just a small family thing we've always done," she explains and you can see the tender look in her eye, a nostalgic look in them as she remembers her parents taking her and Pietro to their local farm in Sokovia when they were younger, the way they'd bond with the animals something Wanda loved.

You couldn't help but smile a bit at her words, feeling slightly honoured that Wanda would bring you along to a family tradition, your eyes wandering around the small but welcoming area as you shut the fence behind you.

"I also remember the three of you talking about horse riding a few weeks ago and thought you could try it today," her tone soft but cautious as she reads your expression, hoping you would be up for it. Your smile immediately widens at how thoughtful she was, your elated expression calming her nerves as you pull her body closer to you, continuing to follow the twins sprint from area to area to look at the various animals littered within the place.

You chuckle at the sight of the twins laughing at the pigs in the mud, one of them rolling around sporadically on its back, eliciting a long string of laughter from Tommy as it snorts at the same time. Billy can't help but pull a face at the smell of them, a smile soon creeping onto his face as another pig joins the other on its back, seemingly playing together by rolling on the ground, coating themselves in a substantial amount of mud.

After having enough of the constant smell and oinking, you all move over to where an array of goats were, one of them making a loud bleating noise as you arrive. The noise seems to stun both of the twins as the white goat with a scraggly beard saunters up to the fence, inspecting you all curiously. Tommy attempts to move closer to the fence to get a better look when suddenly the goat screams, an uncontrollable laugh escaping you at his reaction.

Hiding your face at Wanda's shoulder, you try your best to laugh quietly but you can't seem to stop yourself as Tommy's facial expression and high pitch scream is engraved in your mind, the mix of horror, shock and fear merging on his face into one... unique look and sound. You can feel Wanda slapping you playfully to stop as Tommy grumbles in embarrassment, kicking some of the sticks on the floor as he moves to another animal enclosure, Billy doing a much better job at hiding his amusement than you.

"Behave," Wanda murmurs into your ear as you chuckle once more, brushing the tears of laughter out of your eyes as you follow the ashamed boy, Wanda's eyes softening as she wipes another tear off your cheek, her expression also containing that motherly glint as she was about to comfort Tommy. You press a quick kiss to her palm before she leaves, her smile widening that little bit more at the action before she catches up to the brown haired boy, her hands resting on his back as she crouches next to his annoyed face. You stay behind with Billy who's still admiring the goats from afar, his gaze turning softer at the sight of a young goat hiding with its mother.

You observe his reaction to the baby animal, his smile growing at the cute, little noise it makes, your body standing next to him and admiring the scene with him.

"Did you know that baby goats are called kids?" you say with a humorous tone as you remember all the times your father would correct you after saying 'kids' in reference to children, his usual teasing tone always replying with 'I didn't know we were with baby goats right now' to make you roll your eyes and chuckle.

"Kids?" he says in confusion, processing your words as he stares at the baby goat in thought. When you nod your head, you didn't expect the next question, "You have called me a kid before, were you calling me a goat?" You let out a small chuckle at his innocent and curious tone, your hands going to his shoulders, a mischievous smile on your face.

"No Billy, I've been calling you a baby goat, there's a difference," you tease sarcastically, "You need to have a scraggly beard before I can call you a proper goat," your fingers playfully pinch his chin and tickle him, pretending that there was a beard there to make him laugh. At the sound of his infectious laughter, you can't help but smile with him, pulling his body closer to yours and tickling him even more, the volume of his laughter increasing as you 'torture' the poor boy as he put it.

When you can see his face turning a little red at the action, his body squirming in your grip incessantly, you release him, watching as he runs off to his mother, trying to catch his breath with a large toothy grin on his face. He hides behind her body, leaning his head on her back as he looks over at you with joy swirling in his eyes, still trying to catch his breath as he still quietly laughs, unable to stop. Wanda simply raises her brow at you, Tommy mirroring his mothers action at the strange scene that had unfolded, warmth bubbling in your chest at the sight of them. You noticed in that moment how both of the boys looked so similar to Wanda, Tommy's matching expression and confused stare perfectly resembling his mothers while Billy's playful and shy smile reminded you of the small smirk Wanda would occasionally try to hide when you make a comment she would pretend to ignore.

When you walk back over to them, Wanda's head tilts slightly in a sceptical manner at your smile, your hands sliding around her waist as Billy moves, him and Tommy both grinning at the playful wink you send their way as you prepare to torment Wanda. Your fingers unexpectedly try to tickle her, a surprised yelp leaving her at the sudden strange sensation at her sides, her immediately slipping out of your arms as you can't stay composed and laugh with the twins at the noise that escaped her.

She glares at you momentarily as she watches both boys high five you, her expression fading as she knows exactly how to get revenge on you, eyes also softening at the smiles on both of her children's faces before they run off to look at the cows that have decided to 'moo' extremely loud.

"Oh Detka," she chuckles out lowly as her arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in closer, your eyes widening at the pure mischief in her eyes. "You're going to regret that," she whispers, her mouth moving to your ear, "Paybacks a bitch." Her tone is teasing and low, her lips pressing an innocent kiss to your cheek before she pulls back, turning to walk over to where the twins were, leaving you to swallow nervously, scared of what she had planned for you.

***

After a nervy hour of trying to not fall off a horse, you were finally back on the ground, Wanda watching with an amused smile as you and Billy looked terrified the entire time, Tommy having the time of his life as he pretended to be a cowboy, putting on a southern accent which amused the supervisor who cared for the horses, the man entertaining him by playing along.

Tommy was reluctant to leave the horse when his time was up, a pout on his face as he tried to convince the worker to let him stay on for a couple more minutes, Wanda chuckling at her son's actions as she had to help get him off, the worker offering her an appreciative smile as you and Billy flopped on a bench, thankful to feel something solid and still under you compared to the horse and pony you were on. The two of you watch as Wanda has to practically lift Tommy off the horse with the workers help, the boy high fiving the man who can't help but chuckle at the boy's antics, his small little feet eventually reaching the ground, a slightly annoyed look on his face but his smile still reaching his ears though.

"That was so fun," he exclaims as Wanda directs the three of you to the picnic bench you were going to have lunch on, Wanda having brought lunch with you as there was nowhere close to eat and she knew that the boys, and you, would get hangry soon. Wanda smiles at her son's enthusiasm as you and Billy look at him in disbelief, her hands passing you her phone to show the boys the photos as she quickly retreats to the car to grab the food.

Tommy can't help but laugh wholeheartedly at the photo of both you and Billy looking terrified, his face just about visible in the background, his teeth on show as he smiled constantly, a clear comparison between your reactions. The three of you watch a video of Tommy playing with the worker, both of them pointing finger guns at each other as he gets the horse to stroll around the area, his fake accent audible on the recording. Your smile widens as Billy teases his brother, your attention soon switching to Wanda though who returns with the picnic bag.

You can't help but let your eyes drift across her body, her jeans hugging her hips perfectly as her simple black shirt looks stunning on her, the addition of the sunglasses adding to her look as she brushes her auburn hair back out of her face, her smile radiant. She soon slides onto the bench next to you, swiftly offering the boys their lunch before getting hers out, you taking your own out to let her start with her own food, her lips briefly pressing against your temple making you smile shyly, a blush tainting your cheeks at the love you felt.

Just as you were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, your body freezes at the noise you can hear, your eyes snapping over to Wanda who hides her smile behind her hand, pretending to chew as to not give away her mischievous smirk.

"Wanda," your tone cautious as you turn your head to look at your girlfriend, a soft hum coming from her in response. "Was there an ulterior motive for bringing me to a farm?" you ask sceptically, thinking back to your first date with her when you told her the infamous chicken story, the connections only just clicking in your mind. When you can hear another chorus of clucking, Wanda wraps her arms around you, noticing how you tense up.

"Maybe..." she says, a hint of an apologetic tone hidden somewhere in her voice, her smile and gentle features calming you a little. "I wanted to try and get you over your phobia of chickens," she explains, her fingers interlocking with yours as you cautiously look back at the creatures slowly creeping closer towards the four of you.

"I don't have a phobia of chickens," you grumble, "I just try to avoid them." Wanda softly laughs at your explanation, shaking her head gently before pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, unable to stop the smile present on her lips as you shuffle closer to her.

"Come on Detka, you're meant to be the psychology student here," she teases, acting as a place of safety as you lean against her body for comfort. "That sounds like negative reinforcement to me," she says and you don't know whether you should be impressed at her knowledge or annoyed as she get revenge for earlier.

"You do know that the 'flooding' method of removing phobias is highly unethical without informed consent," you mutter, turning your head to look at her with an annoyed look, the action of her lips instantly pressing to your forehead removing the expression.

"I'll make it up to you," is all she says, knowing you understand what she means as she flickers her gaze to your lips, the thoughts of all the chickens swiftly leaving your mind.

"All night long," you add, her brows rising at your demand, her head nodding subtly as you seem to calm down, the boys who were in their own world and not hearing most of the conversation suddenly turning to you and their mother with an array of questions to distract you both.

Eventually, you have all finished your lunches and ready to start heading home, a sigh of relief leaving you as no chickens have chased you yet, your eyes on the boys who decided to go closer to the, in your eyes, devil like creatures. Wanda and yourself but can't help but watch the boys gently and carefully try to interact with the animals, a smile on both of your faces as the older woman turns her head to look at you, eyes widening at what was behind you.

"You little mother fu-" you yell at the chicken that pecked your ankle, Wanda unable to warn you in time as you jog away from the 'bloodthirsty' animal to her, her arms enveloping you in a hug as the chicken attempts to chase you, Wanda moving her body in the way to frighten it off. "See, this is why I hate them," you grumble, Wanda unable to stop the soft laughter that escapes her at your state, her hands snaking around your waist and pulling you closer, showing a silent form of comfort as the whole situation to her was rather humorous.

"Oh Detka," she coos when she pulls herself together, the boys chuckling to themselves until they see Wanda's face, signalling for them to quieten down. "I'm sorry," she apologies sincerely, her fingers moving to cup your cheeks as your face signals your annoyance. You simply move your face to hide at the crook of her neck, not wanting to be mad at Wanda as it wasn't her fault. Yes, arguably you could be annoyed with her for bringing you to a farm, knowing you were scared of chickens, but the rest of the day had been perfect so you couldn't stay mad at her, no matter how annoyed you were right now. Plus, she technically wasn't the one to peck you.

"It's ok," you murmur after a moment, eventually pulling away from the safety of her warm skin, your eyes meeting her mesmerising green as she moved her sunglasses to rest on the top of her head, the various shades of green soothing your nerves. "I'm going to eat so much chicken for dinner in revenge," you mutter, making the older woman angelically laugh, her smile growing as your usual, amusing self returned. "In fact, I think we should have a McDonalds for dinner," your tone is frivolous, curious to see how the older woman would react.

"We have food at home Detka," she says and you can't help but laugh at her typical motherly response, the twins on your side and offering her their best 'puppy eyes' they could muster to help persuade their mother into agreeing with you. Upon seeing all of your pleading faces, she sighs and gives in, "Fine." Shaking her head at all of your antics, the three of you cheer before starting to move towards the car, Wanda's arm interlocked with yours as you pass the last of the chickens, your eyes glaring daggers at them.

"You're such a bad influence," she mutters while you climb into her red vehicle, a smile on your face at her tone, the annoyance of the stupid chicken haven faded completely.

"Maybe I am," you tease, buckling your seatbelt as the twins in the back do the same, "But you still love me." Wanda rolls her eyes at your playful tone, her fingers guiding your face closer to hers, her hand reaching back to cover the boys view, knowing they would groan at the sight of affection. Her lips meet yours softly, the two of them still groaning jokingly despite not being able to see, making the two of you smile into the kiss even more.

"I'll always love you," she whispers before pulling back properly, turning around to look at Tommy who was dramatically covering his eyes, Billy sheepishly looking out of the window at the motherly stare aimed towards them.

"Ewww," Tommy says once more, unaware that you had stopped kissing, a soft chuckle leaving you at his reaction, Billy lightly hitting his brother to shut him up.

"I guess Tommy doesn't want anything from McDonalds then," Wanda teases, the boy's eyes shooting wide open, shock and disbelief on his face.

"Wait, no, I do," he rushes out, making the rest of you laugh, Wanda turning back around to get the car ready to drive, a smile plastered on her face, merely humming in response to her son.

"To McDonalds we go," you say to cheer the boy up, his smile instantly returning at your mood and energetic tone, Wanda's eyes flickering over to you, nothing but love in them as she gets ready for the eventful evening with you all, knowing there was nowhere else she'd rather be than with you.

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