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munson-blurbs · 11 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Summary: June brings the end of Harris's preschool career and the official beginning of your new life as a family of three--with a little help from your friends, of course.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), p in v, mentions of phone sex, grief and loss

WC: 7.8k

Chapter 20/20

A/N: With the official end of Trapped Under Ice, I am now opening up requests in the TUI universe. Thank you all for taking this journey with me as I processed my own grief. As long as you keep requesting, I will continue writing for our little family 💚

Thank you to @rip-quizilla for making that scene stronger. Ily, bb.

Divider credit to @saradika

The diner is bustling with customers, happily chatting over stacks of pancakes and overstuffed omelets. Coffee carafes clink against chipped mugs as the waitstaff pours refill after refill.

You weave through the rows of tables, careful not to bump into servers balancing trays of food or busboys carrying the used dishes and silverware. A small yellow gift bag is clutched in your hand, and you hold it to your chest to protect its fragile contents.

Harris spots you before you can see him; his little arm shoots up from where he’s tucked into the booth next to Wayne.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he frantically waves, his grin wide enough to stretch off of his cheeks. “Over here!”

You laugh, watching as Eddie scoots from the middle of the seat to the end, making room for you to sit down. There are two steaming cups on his side of the table, centered on little saucers that are likely older than you are.

“Morning, baby,” he greets you with a smile, leaning in to give you a small kiss—no tongue, of course—as you slide in next to him. “You sleep okay last night?”

You nod sheepishly, remembering the phone conversation the two of you had had, well after Harris fell asleep. Eddie’s sultry voice had guided you through touching yourself; the next-best thing to having his own fingers inside you.

“Wish I could be there right now,” he’d murmured into the receiver, so low that you could barely hear him. The faint sound of his own fly being lowered punctuated his words. “Wanna make you feel so good, Sweetheart, but I know you’re being a good girl f’me tonight, aren’t you?”

You bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping to blame the heat creeping up your face on the drink, and take a hearty sip. It’s a little sweet, but mostly bitter. Just how you like it.

The crinkling tissue paper as you lean back in the booth draws your attention to your company and away from your indulgent memories. “Happy Father’s Day, Eddie,” you kiss him on the cheek, your lipstick tinting his stubble pink. “This is from me and Harris. Be careful with it.” There’s a deliberate vagueness in your warning, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

Eddie cocks his brow, clearly not expecting any sort of present from you. Shocking, considering you’d taken Harris to the Paint-n-Play on Wednesday during your usual tutoring session time, and you’d figured he would have spilled the beans as soon as he and his dad had a moment alone. He rustles around the bag with dramatic flourish, trying to build anticipation but only succeeding in testing Harris’s patience.

“Open it, Daddy! Open it!” Harris bounces up and down in his seat, mouth sticky and teeth tinted purple with grape juice as he urges Eddie to stop dragging out the process. Wayne discreetly places his palm behind his grandson’s scalp, protecting his head in case he rocks too far back. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart did it together!”

“You did, huh?” Eddie chuckles, pulling out a ceramic mug. It’s painted sky blue, and Harris had insisted on making purple polka dots, splotchy as he’d haphazardly dunked the brush in paint and pressed it to the plaster. Written in bright orange blocky letters is DAD; you’d helped him sound out duhh-ahhh-duhh, his little tongue poking out in complete concentration. Your only visible contribution is the tiny green 1997 painted along the handle, marking the first year you’d celebrated Father’s Day together.

The multitude of complementary colors and mismatched designs should clash. The dots look more like disfigured spiders than circles. The 7 you’d carefully written with a fine-tipped brush is slightly smudged from where Harris had picked up the mug before it had fully dried, and there’s an extra curving line extending from the first D in DAD after he’d started writing the letter backwards.

To Eddie, it’s perfect.

“I love it.” Brown eyes find his son’s hopeful gaze that eagerly awaits his father’s reaction. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He places the mug on the table next to the coffee-filled one in front of him, tipping its contents into his gift. A few drops dribble down the side, but most of it ends up where it should. A success, in his opinion. He takes a hearty gulp, not caring that the hot liquid singes his taste buds. “Is this magic?” He holds the mug up to his face, studying it like it’s a precious stone. “Because, I swear, it makes this coffee taste better.”

The little boy beams, exchanging an elated glance with you. “Ms. Sweetheart, did you put magic in it?”

Eddie chimes in before you can respond. “I bet she did. She’s sneaky with it; always sprinkling it where you least expect.” His empty hand finds your thigh underneath the table, silently claiming it as his own. “I don’t know how she does it,” he muses wistfully, adding another sugar packet to the mug and swirling it with a spoon until it’s dissolved. Like it was always part of the coffee from the jump.

“Speaking of presents,” Wayne chimes in, unearthing a tiny, newspaper-wrapped package from his jacket pocket and handing it to his nephew. “‘S, not much, but it’s a Father’s-Day-slash-housewarming gift for ya.”

“I thought we agreed on no gifts,” Eddie shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious about arriving empty-handed.

“Well, I lied.”

Wayne watches as Eddie tears into the paper. Whatever home run or double-header had made the front page of the sports section is irrelevant compared to the mystery item that is snugly tucked between baseball stats and the upcoming game schedule.

A small gasp leaves his mouth as he unwraps a wallet-sized picture frame; the word family is etched into the wood right above the plastic-protected photo.

It’s from Harris’s bowling party; the one Wayne had taken of you and Eddie on either side of the birthday boy. Happiness radiates off of the three of you with such intensity that it seems impossible for it to be captured in a still frame. He’d forgotten that Wayne had even snapped it.

“Wayne, I…” Eddie struggles to find the words he needs to properly convey his feelings. The tip of his nose burns with the anticipated influx of emotions. “I’m gonna put it right next to my alarm clock, so it’s the first thing I see every morning.”

You lay your head on his shoulder, the edge of his lips finding your forehead in a half-kiss. He soaks in the comfort you bring, absorbing it through every pore as he exhales and feels himself relax.

The waitress comes over with a notepad and a smile. “You folks ready to order?” She clicks her pen, poised to jot down what the four of you want to eat.

“Chicken fingers, please!” Harris announces, perching up on his knees and leaning his elbows on the table. “With French fries!”

The waitress, whose name tag reads Bee, offers a sympathetic smile and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. We don’t start serving lunch until 11:30.”

The boy’s lower lip quivers at the news, having his heart set on eating his favorite food. You can see his perfectly curated routine begin to crumble, taking his excitement with it. “But…but I even said ‘please!’” he insists, voice cracking.

You step in quickly, wanting to salvage the Father’s Day celebration before Hurricane Harris can brew up a storm. “Hey, Har, I know you’re disappointed about the chicken fingers, but I have a super special idea.”

“Wh-What?” Misty eyes indicate that tears still threaten to spill over his lashes.

“When Grandma used to take me to the diner, we used to split silver dollars. They’re pancakes, just smaller.” You take a deep breath and smile, hoping and praying that your plan works. “Would you like to share some silver dollars with me? And we can come back and get chicken fingers another time.”

Harris considers your proposition, rubbing his hands together along his knuckles to soothe himself. Finally, he says, “Can we eat them with syrup?”

“That sounds delicious.” You lean over and ruffle his hair, careful not to let any loose strands land on the table. “You wanna tell the waitress?”

“Mmkay,” he nods, turning to Bee and smiling. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are gonna have the, um, little pancakes.” He frowns, unable to remember the dish’s name. “The dollars?”

Bee laughs and nods, jotting it on her notepad. “An order of silver dollar pancakes, coming right up. And for you gentlemen?” She brings her attention to Eddie and Wayne.

The older man clears his throat, ordering a Western omelet with home fries and rye toast. Eddie asks for the same but with white bread. “And a refill on the coffee,” he adds.

Bee promises to be back shortly with the food, and the four of you resume your conversation.

“We’ll get to take a new picture next week at someone’s graduation,” you say with a smile, looking in Harris’s direction. “Are you excited, Har Bear?”

Harris takes another messy sip of grape juice. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go to kindergarten soon! But first is summer.”

“Summer first, then kindergarten,” you agree, sipping your coffee before it gets cold. You’re no stranger to it, often setting down your to-go cup at work and forgetting about it until well after morning circle time, but you relish any chance you get to enjoy it while it’s still warm. “I was thinking: once you and Daddy are all moved in, we should make plans for this summer. Like the zoo, or the pool…”

“Yeah!” Harris claps his hands together and grins. “Or Disney World!”

Eddie’s ears perk up at his son’s suggestion. “Not this year, but maybe soon.” If he can continue moving up the ranks at the record store, coupled with the two of you splitting rent, it might even happen next year, but he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t guarantee he’ll keep. “And we’ll drag Grampa Wayne with us.”

Wayne responds with a shake of his head. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m goin’ on any of those roller coasters.”

“You’re gonna sit and ride It’s a Small World the whole day?” Eddie teases, leaning back in his seat.

“Damn straight.”

The food comes out ten minutes later, steaming plates carefully placed on the table. You cut the silver dollar pancakes into bite-size pieces, pushing half to the side nearest Harris and the other half closest to you. A glass syrup carafe waits to be used, its handle sticky with residue.

“Say when,” you tell Harris, drizzling it back and forth across the plate. He waits until the pancakes are drenched before stopping you.

You watch as he uses his fork to spear some pancake, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “It’s yummy!” he declares triumphantly, already scanning the plate for his next piece. “This is my favorite food ever!”

You, Eddie, and Wayne share smiles; none of you take his declaration too seriously, knowing he changes his favorite anythings on an hourly basis. Still, a win is a win, and avoiding a chicken finger-induced tantrum is no small feat.

Eddie spreads a pat of butter over his toast, but his eyes never shift from you and Harris sharing breakfast. You’d asked him whether he prefers blueberries or chocolate chips in his pancakes, and the discussion quickly devolved into a competition to see who could come up with the grossest pancake addition.

“How about…” Harris wiggles his nose, “broccoli pancakes?”

“Ew!” You stick out your tongue in disgust. “That was a good one, but I think I can top it. Would you eat…” you tap your chin in contemplation, “fish stick pancakes!”

Harris squeals, far from an inside voice, but no one wants to correct him. “That’s super yucky! Fish stick pancakes?!”

Eddie smiles, tucking into his own food. He wants to savor the joy, the warmth. The twinkle in Wayne’s eyes, the upturned corners of Harris’s lips, the trill of your laugh. He wishes he could capture the feeling, but a mental image will have to do.

He inhales and allows himself to be wrapped in the unconditional love he had once convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve.

The Hawkins Preschool cafeteria has once again been transformed. The custodians folded the long tables, propping them against the wall, and set up rows of folding chairs, leaving a small aisle for the graduates’ families to find their seats.

Other parents stare as Eddie walks in, perspiration prickling under his arms as he hears them whispering about the kid who ran away. It’s audible enough for Wayne to hear; he rests his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before they take their seats.

Jeff and Dustin arrive a few moments later, noticing Eddie and Wayne in the small crowd and shuffling over. Eddie pulls them each in for a quick hug, and Wayne does the same.

“Glad we made it,” Dustin says with a sigh of relief. “My flight got delayed half an hour, but we made up the time in the air.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “It didn’t help that we had to stop at a payphone so you could call your precious Suzie-Poo,” he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips, proud of the way his friend cares so deeply for his partner. “Anyway, we’re here now.” He takes a seat next to Wayne, shifting so he can speak to Eddie. “Is Harris excited to graduate?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head at the recent memory of his son prancing around the apartment that morning in his cap and gown, small body drowning in the flowing green fabric. In that instant, Eddie could picture him as a young man, crossing a much larger stage to receive his diploma from Hawkins High. If Higgins is still the principal, Eddie might have to teach Harris the family tradition of flipping him off.

Sue Sinclair makes her way up the small staircase to the podium, adjusting the microphone so she speaks into it easily. “Good morning, parents, siblings, and other special guests. Welcome to Hawkins Preschool’s Moving Up ceremony.” She beams, holding for applause. Eddie eases back into his seat; he’s known Principal Sinclair for years, since Lucas had joined Hellfire, and she’d recently stepped up to take over teaching Harris’s class for the remaining weeks of the school year. After the little boy had given his statement to the police, Marion and Paula’s teaching licenses had been immediately terminated, and negligence charges were currently pending.

“Before we get started, I’d just like to make an announcement.” Sue Sinclair looks over to where your class is standing, patiently waiting their turn to receive their sticker-laden diplomas. “I am pleased to announce that our very own Mr. Will Byers,” she extends her hand in Will’s direction, “will be our newest head teacher starting this fall.”

Though everyone in attendance is clapping, it’s obvious that Eddie, Wayne, Jeff, and Dustin cheer the loudest. Will blushes red, unused to being the center of attention, but the smile on his face shows how excited he is to take on this new role. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and pull him in for a proud hug.

“Our students have worked incredibly hard this year, learning their letters, numbers, and how to be a good friend,” the principal continues. “And though we will miss them dearly, we are thrilled to send them off to kindergarten with these new skills. So, without further ado, let’s bring out our graduates!”

The ceremony begins, starting with your class. You stand at one end of the stage, sending each student off to where Will is waiting at the other end as Principal Sinclair reads out each of their names. They take their certificates and pose with baby teeth on full display while their parents snap photos from disposable Kodaks and bulky Nikons. All the seemingly endless days, the menial fights over sharing toys; every moment was worth it if it led to this.

You usher the kids to their seats in the front row after your final student’s name is called, spotting Eddie in the crowd as you sit down. He winks, the corner of his eye mischievously crinkling. You smile, taking full advantage of the other parents’ distractedness and give him a little wave; the exchange a private love letter.

Both of you bring your attention back to the stage when Sue Sinclair calls up the next class. Harris stands towards the center of the line, excitement buzzing through him at a rate that cannot be contained. He rocks from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth as he awaits his turn. His brown ringlets poke out from underneath his cap, grazing just above his eyebrows.

Principal Sinclair pauses, looking directly at Eddie when she speaks. She understands the gravity of this accomplishment, her lipsticked smile reaching her eyes as she leans in towards the microphone.

“Harris Munson!”

Eddie jumps up, hollering as loud as his vocal cords will allow. Harris accepts his diploma and smiles wide, both at his accomplishment and at the sound of his dad cheering him on. His expression further brightens when he sees Wayne, Dustin, and Jeff beside him, and he waves while jumping up and down.

He’s supposed to walk from stage left to stage right, just as all the students before him have done; in typical Harris fashion, he takes the road less traveled. With a mighty leap, he catapults himself off of the stage and makes a beeline straight for you.

Two little arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing you as tight as they can. The brim of his cap is flush against your cheek. “I did it, Ms. Sweetheart!” His words carry a lightheartedness that only a child’s joy can bring. “Did you see?” He picks his head up from where it was nestled against you and giggles, dimpled chin brushing your bicep.

You tilt the mortarboard slightly upward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I saw, Har,” you tell him, using your thumb to wipe away your lipstick print, “and I am so, so proud of you.” Readjusting his cap, you usher him over to where the rest of his class is standing, a garden of happiness blooming within you.

You look back at where Eddie is sitting, wishing you could sit next to him, fingers laced together while his thumb caresses the side of your hand and grasping your hand tighter when Harris’s name is called. For now, it’s enough to know that you’ll be by his side throughout all of Harris’s future endeavors and accomplishments. A team.

Eddie’s palms press into his slack-covered thighs as he peers over at you and grins. Bright, adoring eyes meet yours, speaking every thought that his mouth can’t say right now. I love you. Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.

You accept the wordless praise with a smile, one that reaches beyond its usual confines.

Dustin notices the small exchange, and he nudges Eddie’s ribs with his elbow. “She’s the one, huh?” He cocks his eyebrow knowingly.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, no longer paying any attention to the remaining names being read aloud. “You ever think you’d see the day I settle down?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an ounce of insecurity behind them.

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin nods without hesitation. “Always knew you would.” Carol Perkins shushes him from the row ahead, but he just flips her off and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you remember that time in high school when we got sloshed—sorry, Wayne,” Jeff cuts in sheepishly, “and you went on a rant about how you secretly wanted the whole wife, kids, picket fence deal?”

“And I believe I threatened to kick your ass if you told anyone,” Eddie points out, embarrassment turning his face red, apparent even under the light stubble covering his cheeks.

Wayne chuckles softly. “I already knew. About the dream and the booze.” He laughs a bit harder at Jeff and Eddie’s shocked expressions. “If you keep replacing vodka with water, eventually, it’s all just water.”

“Ya don’t say.” Dustin’s sarcasm bleeds through his whisper.

Principal Sinclair reads the last student’s name with the same enthusiasm she’s given all of the other kids. “I now present to you, the Hawkins Preschool class of 1997!” She mimes tossing a cap in the air, the students’ cue to do the same.

The fervor of the cheers and applause could shake the cafeteria. Whistles pierce the air and reverberate off of the walls, none louder than Wayne Munson’s. You stand up, smoothing the pleats of your dress to soak in the achievement of completing another academic year; for you, this one in a brand new school with more challenges than you’d cared to endure.

You and Will take in the sight of nine cherubic faces looking up at you in admiration, though they’re beginning to shed their baby fat. This was certainly a journey, and you couldn’t have asked for a better teaching assistant to walk beside you through it all.

“I’m gonna miss you next year,” you say, squeezing him in a tight hug.

“I’ll be right down the hall!”

Begrudgingly, you let go of him, not losing the pout on your lips. “That’s way too far for me.” The two of you both know that you’re serious; it won’t be the same without having him in the classroom with you. “Can we try to match up our breaks and eat lunch together?”

“It’s a date,” Will laughs, then juts out his chin to motion behind you, “but it looks like I might have some competition.”

Before you can turn around, Eddie’s arms wrap around your waist. He tugs you in close so your back is flush against his chest, the buttons from his shirt pressing into your spine. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, lips so close that they brush the lobe. “Are you ready to start your summer?”

You kiss his cheek, adjusting your stance so you can walk hand in hand to get Harris. He torpedoes himself into Eddie’s stomach, shrieking with laughter as he’s lifted into the air.

“Har Bear, you’re a preschool graduate!” Eddie smacks a kiss to his son’s temple. “How should we celebrate, hmm? Ice cream? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Ice cream!” Harris decides easily. “I’m gonna get cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles and—Uncle Dusty!” He squirms out of Eddie’s grasp and races over to Dustin.

“What? I’m not an ice cream topping!” Dustin teases, crouching down to ruffle Harris’s curls, matted to his scalp from being hidden underneath the cap.

Harris giggles. “You’re so silly!” He glances back and forth from him to you, and you realize he doesn’t know that you’d met in March at Will’s birthday party. “Uncle Dusty, this is Ms. Sweetheart. She’s my almost-mommy.”

“Ohh,” Dustin replies with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “I think she needs to be your dad’s almost-wife first–”

“All right! Ice cream time!” Eddie hurries to cut him off, glaring at Dustin for bringing the idea to Harris’s attention again; he has constantly been hounding him about marriage ever since he found out about his newest living arrangements. The idea of marrying you, however, eases his tension and has a smile tugging on his lips; a slight switch in expression that his uncle spots easily.

Wayne’s gruff whisper is in Eddie’s ear. “Sounds like it’s time for an almost-proposal.”

“Shut up!”

“I think that’s the last of them!” Jeff calls out, lugging the final cardboard box from his car into your apartment. He wipes his hands on his jeans and closes the door behind him, careful not to wake up his sleeping daughter in Viv’s arms. He looks over at where you, Robin, and Jess have begun unpacking, laying Eddie’s clothes in one pile and Harris’s much smaller clothes in another.

Jeff places a kiss on the crown of Viv’s head, then plants an identical one on Ettie’s. “Where are the guys?”

“Harris’s room,” you say; bittersweet taste tinging the new label. It feels better than Grandma’s old room, but part of it will always belong to her. You hear Harris giggle as Eddie and Dustin re-assemble his racecar bed, spreading warmth that gently softens the sadness until it resembles sentimentality. “I’ll come with you; I have to put this away, anyway.” You grab the pile of Harris’s clothes and tuck it under your arm.

Eddie and Dustin sit on the floor, rogue screws spread around them as they intently study their project.

“I think this piece,” Dustin muses, picking up one of the sides of the frame, “connects with this one like that…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” He takes the screwdriver and twists the metal into the slot triumphantly. Your breath catches in your throat as his bicep flexes with the motion, perfectly displayed where his t-shirt sleeve had been cut into a makeshift tank top. “There we go.” He looks up and realizes you’re there, perfectly still as you watch him. “Hey, Sweetheart. Y’good?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye; though it was inadvertent, he knows what he’s doing to you.

You only nod, the movement dragging you out of your momentary stupor. He chuckles as you place Harris’s shirts and pants in the dresser, fingers clumsily slipping over the knobs. It’s the same unicorn-covered dresser that had sent Harris into hysterics a few weeks ago, but you’d painted over it before he could see. It’s now a dark navy blue, no evidence of what once lay beneath.

Eddie’s amused by your reaction and subsequent embarrassment, running his tongue over his teeth and chuckling to himself, but his victory is short-lived.

“Hey, Casanova,” Dustin’s exasperated voice cuts in, pointing to the section Eddie just assembled, “you put the piece on upside down.”

Harris crinkles his nose. “What’s Casanova?”

Eddie buries his head in his hands as Dustin scrambles to explain. “It means your dad is trying to show off his handyman skills for your almost-mommy.” He winks in Eddie’s direction before leaning in and exaggeratedly whispering in Harris’s ear, “but he’s not doing a very good job.”

As soon as Harris distracts himself with setting up his toys, Eddie is saluting his friend with a quick flip of his middle finger.

You crouch down, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry; I’m very impressed.” He blushes when you kiss his cheek. “Your uncle’s going to be here with dinner in a few minutes, if you burly men want to wash up.”

Eddie nods, turning to his friends and his son and speaking in a deep baritone. “You heard the woman! Let us refuel so we may regain our strength for hunting and other masculine activities.”

Harris’s brows pinch together in further confusion while you and Dustin share an eyeroll, but the three of you follow your fearless leader out of the room. Eddie lets the two of them pass and waits for you, sliding a coy hand in your back pocket and murmuring against your hair. “Man and woman make fire in bedroom later?” He continues using the deepened voice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s…that’s not a no, though, right?”

The summer sun is still high in the sky when Wayne arrives at the apartment, three pizza boxes still warm in his palms. He’s barely able to put them on the table before Harris is racing towards him, ready to give a full report of the goings-on of his day.

Jess sits at the table, baby Ettie laying in her arms while she gives Viv a break and feeds her from a bottle. You place a piece of pizza on the paper plate in front of her, and one in front of Robin, who adoringly watches her girlfriend dote on a baby. Wayne sits in the third seat, thanking you with his kind smile as you pass him a slice.

You join Eddie and Harris on the couch; Jeff plops down in the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the coffee table, motioning for Viv to sit atop his legs, while Dustin has seemingly been relegated to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Uncle Dusty, come sit next to me!” Harris chirps, nearly knocking your plate out of your hand as he bounces onto your lap. His curls tickle your chin as he leans over to take a bite of his dinner, dragging the cheese halfway off of the crust before Eddie holds it in place.

Dustin obliges, squishing in next to you with an apologetic laugh, but you don’t mind. Dialogue melds together, with people seamlessly leaping from one conversation to another. Robin poses the question of what everyone thinks Ettie’s first word will be, which prompts Wayne to tell the story about how Eddie tried so hard to get Harris to say dada, only for the boy to scream out “SHIT!” in the middle of Bradley’s Big Buy.

Jeff looks across the room at his tiny daughter. “Please don’t let that be your first word,” he jokingly begs her, picking a greasy pepperoni piece from his slice and dropping it in his mouth. While he’s preoccupied, Viv steals a bite of the crust.

“Are you all going to the July 4th carnival next week?” Eddie asks through a cheesy mouthful.

Everyone except Dustin answers in the affirmative. “Flying back home tomorrow,” he says, a round of booing from the group forcing him to pause mid-statement, “but Suzie and I are—hey, not cool!” He swats at a crumpled napkin that Eddie lobs at his head. “Suzie and I are going to try and visit for my mom’s birthday in August,” he finishes with a pointed look.

Harris tilts his head back so you can see straight into his flared nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart, you’re coming to the carnival with us, right?”

“Of course! What rides are we gonna go on?” you ask, his little feet kicking at your calves as joy flows through his body.

“The Ferris Wheel! Me an’ Daddy always go on that, an’ now you can come with us!”

He and Eddie always go on the Ferris Wheel. It’s a tradition that they share, and now they’re allowing you in. Now you’re part of it.

You smile, kissing his forehead in a celebration of belonging and delight. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” you agree. “Do you think Daddy will play the games and win a prize for us?”

Eddie groans at your suggestion. “Those booths are all rigged. Every last one of ‘em.”

“I dunno,” Jess says teasingly, wiping Ettie’s chin with a cloth bib, “I won a stuffed animal from the whack-a-mole last year—”

“Oh, yeah! And I beat the Test Your Strength one,” Jeff adds slyly, getting a rise out of proving Eddie wrong.

Eddie throws his voice to a falsetto, mocking his friend’s words. “I beat the Test Your Strength one,” he echoes nasally, chuckling when Jeff scoops up the napkin previously thrown at Dustin and hurls it towards Eddie.

The rest of the evening continues like this, silly banter and recalled stories that end up being cut short or watered down for the impressionable ears listening in. It’s love in its many forms: between partners, between parents and their children, between friends. Each peal of laughter, each shared smile, each memory made adds to its foundation; brick by brick, layer by layer.

The pink hues of sunset darken to indigo and eventually settle into a night sky, the moon shining brightly and unobscured by clouds. Eddie, Jeff, and Dustin finally manage to put the race car bed back together—and just in time. Harris’s yawns become more frequent until he can no longer fight sleep, dozing off with his cheek pressed against your chest. Soft snores leave his slightly agape mouth.

“I feel the same way,” Wayne jokes, standing up from his chair and stretching his back with a grimace. “It’s been a long day.”

The group nods in agreement, quietly gathering their belongings and saying good-bye.

“Thank you all for helping today,” you say, handing out hugs while keeping Harris sound asleep. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake up, even with all of the commotion. “We really appreciate it.”

Eddie seconds your sentiment. “It means a lot to us. We know we owe you a lot more than just dinner—”

“You guys are family,” Viv interrupts with a smile, gently rocking a sleeping Ettie in her arms. “This is what family does.”

A calloused hand rests on your shoulder from behind the couch; you lean your head on Eddie’s forearm and give it a small kiss. The delicate hairs brush against your lips, and you relax into his touch.

Your guests file out, already making plans to meet up at the carnival. Eddie closes the door behind them, insisting that he can beat Jeff at the Test Your Strength and demanding that his friend buy him a funnel cake when he does.

There’s a soft murmuring coming from Harris’s room, and Eddie walks as quietly as he can. He watches silently, shoulder pressed against the doorframe, as you place his son’s head onto the pillow. The crisp sheet is draped over his sleeping body, followed by the Buzz Lightyear comforter you’d bought at Kmart especially for him. Harris stirs for a moment to grab onto the blankets, tugging them to his chin and scrunching up his legs to assume a cozier position. He lets out a content sigh and slips back into his dream.

“Good night, kiddo,” you whisper, kissing his mop of curls. You look around the room, so different from when it belonged to Grandma. It seems larger, his race car bed taking up much less space than her queen-size bed did. A Lego set lies where her shoe rack once stood. The top of his dresser is covered in Hot Wheels, rather than the makeup and jewelry that Grandma had on hers.

But it’s a good kind of different, one that comes with the natural ebb and flow of life. It brings inevitable change, and it’s your choice whether to embrace it or run away.

“You’re a natural at this bedtime thing, y’know.” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, places you back in the moment. He holds his arms out for you to nestle into them, holding you as close as he can. His thumb caresses your shoulder blade. “It normally takes a couple of stories, half a dozen pee breaks, and a horse tranquilizer to get him down.”

“I think being completely exhausted from moving helped,” you laugh into his chest. “And I’m right there with him. Man and woman might have to postpone their fire-making.”

Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against you. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be my best performance. Wanna make this one really good, since it’s a special occasion and everything.” He closes Harris’s door and leads you to the bedroom you two now share. “We gotta christen this bad boy.”

“We’ve had sex on this bed a million times.” You recall the ways his lips traced over your body, eager to memorize every inch of skin.

“But that’s when it was only your bed,” he points out. “Now it’s ours.”

Ours. Our bed, our home, our family. Ours.

You can barely change into pajamas before you’re falling asleep; Eddie manages to slip off his jeans and shirt, clad in plaid boxers and nothing else, before crashing down into the bed you now share. His arm slips around your waist, fingers reflexively dancing up your shirt, while he buries his head in the nape of your neck.

When daylight breaks and the sun streams through the gaps in the blinds, Eddie has assumed a starfish position, blankets flung to the edge of the bed in what must have been a middle-of-the-night move. You’re still dozing, but he knows he has to wake you if he wants to sneak in some alone time before his son wakes up.

“Morning, gorgeous.” His breath tickles under your earlobe, pulling you close to him. You hum, not quite awake but no longer dreaming. “C’mon, wake up, pretty thing.” He licks his lips before kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder blades.

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn over and face him. Your mouth lazily finds his, the cotton fabric of your pajama top fisted in his grasp. The outline of his morning wood is visible through his boxer shorts; it presses into your thigh as though greedily searching for your warmth. “You always wake up this hard?” you tease, fingertips already fiddling with the worn elastic waistband and dipping towards the treasure beneath. The scruff of his pubic hair grazes your knuckles.

“Only when I dream of you,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, climbing on top of you while shedding his only clothing article. The boxers fall to the floor unceremoniously.

“Smooth.”

“I thought so.” Both hands cup your cheeks; you expect him to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Love waking up next to you.”

It draws a memory of the first morning you’d spent together; an inadvertent sleepover that culminated in one poorly-crafted lie and two broken hearts. He looks at you now, tired and yet still beautiful. How could I have let her slip by? How did I almost miss all of this?

You take the lead this time, arching your back so your torso melds into his, connected by desire. Eddie has your tank top off in a heartbeat, tongue swiping over your nipples the instant they’re visible.

“Perfect,” Eddie groans, making his way down your abdomen. He places your legs on top of his shoulders, lips delicately fluttering over your clit so he can lick a broad stripe up your labia. “I know we should be having a quickie, but I can’t turn down breakfast in bed.” His face is buried in your pussy, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory.

You giggle at his phrasing. If you question it, you know he’ll make a comment about you being good enough to eat. You give in instead, letting him ravish you just the way you both crave.

One finger, then two, slip into your waiting cunt while his mouth focuses on your clit. You’re dripping with your arousal and his saliva; you bite your lower lip to stifle the noises begging to be heard.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you croak, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m so close, s-so close…”

Eddie says nothing, continuing to worship the taste of you. You can feel his victorious smile as you cry out his name in orgasmic bliss, toes flexing just as he brings you down from the high.

“Need you, fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, tempering the stimulation pulsing through his cock with a few short tugs.

You nod, already electrified at the prospect of being split open on him. He sinks into you with a muted moan, savoring the way you envelop him within your warmth. “All mine, Sweetheart; you’re all mine.”

“Mhm,” you manage. Your fingernails dig into his upper back with a force that will surely leave crescent indents in his skin. “I’m all yours. Always will be.”

His thumb runs along your jaw and he smiles. She’s all mine.

The ridges of his dick form a delectable friction along your walls. Each thrust is a mutual give and take, an exchanging of selves with every breath.

“I love you.” Eddie’s impossibly beautiful like this, hands holding your hips steady while sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. He brings your fourth finger between his lips; you can feel his tongue claiming it as his own. “And I’m gonna put a ring on this pretty little finger of yours, okay? Just want it to be perfect for you.”

You weave your fingers into his sleep-mussed curls and kiss him. “Don’t need perfect. I’ll marry you without a ring.” Whatever elaborate fairytale wedding you’d been crafting in your head is suddenly wholly unnecessary; all that matters is that you and Eddie commit to one another. But you know him well enough to not question his devotion to you. If Eddie Munson wants to give you the proposal of a lifetime, then that’s what he’s going to do.

There will be no unkept promises this morning, no shattered hearts to mend.

He can’t hold back any longer, spilling into you with punctuating grunts. You receive every last drop gratefully, a part of him within you, and you finish for the second time today.

“I meant it.” He gently withdraws from inside you, both of you mourning the loss of the other’s body. “When I said I’m gonna marry you, I meant it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sweat glistens along the sparse hairs curling over his bare chest. “Are you hungry? I know I worked up an appetite.”

You kiss his nose, biting the end teasingly. He yelps in mock pain, so you kiss it again. “I am, but I have to be honest—between all the unpacking and sex, I don’t have the energy to make breakfast.”

“Me neither,” he admits with a laugh. “Why don’t we shower, wake up Sleeping Beauty,” he nudges his head towards Harris’s room, “and go to the diner.” He stretches and stands, eyes drawn to the nightstand, where the framed photo from Wayne leans against a porcelain lamp. Happiness captured with the click of a Kodak.

You’re smiling, thinking about sharing silver dollar pancakes with Harris again just like you used to do with Grandma. Somewhere along the way, you grew from the child to the adult in that scenario, passing on a tradition you never even knew had been started.

“That sounds amazing.” As you say it aloud, something in addition to hunger gnaws at your stomach. You’ve been putting it off, hiding from the truth, but you want to stop pretending. You want to feel everything that comes with accepting reality. Without sorrow, you would never recognize joy. Without grief, you won’t understand the depths of our love beyond the physical plain.

“Could we make a quick pit stop first?”

Though it’s still morning, the late June humidity has your shirt clinging to you, sweat beading along the collar and around your bra clasp. You close the car door behind you; Eddie shuffles to open the back door for Harris. The little boy unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the booster seat, glancing between you and his dad. You take his left hand and Eddie takes his right as you walk over to the stone.

“Hi, Grandma,” you whisper, crouching down to better see the engraving. Gently, your fingers dance over the etched words: Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. “I know I haven’t been by to visit you yet, but I’m here now.” You muster up a small smile. “And I brought Eddie and Harris with me. They…they loved you, too.”

You falter for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Eddie’s hand rubs your upper back, not caring about how perspiration-soaked it is.

“Do you want some privacy?” he murmurs. “Harris and I can wait by the car. You take as long as you need.”

You nod, watching them walk hand in hand to give you your space to grieve. Filling your lungs with a deep breath, you speak what’s been in your heart.

“I need to thank you,” you start, talking directly to where her name is engraved, “for a lot of things. But I guess, um, the most important is how you taught me to forgive without taking shit—can I swear in a cemetery?—from people.” Your laugh is heavy with the weight of remembrance.

“I miss you. A lot,” you continue, tears now spilling freely from your eyes. “I miss doing puzzles together. I miss cooking together. I’m going to try and make your applesauce for Thanksgiving this year. I think Harris will really like it.” You swallow thickly. “If you’d met him before you got sick, you would’ve adored him. He’s got the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.”

You’re finding it easier to talk; everything you need to say is coming naturally and without hesitation.

“He’s…he’s living in your room. I guess, technically, it’s his room now. But a little part of me will always consider it your room, too. And I think that’s okay.” You nod, confirming to yourself that it’s all part of the process. “He keeps asking me and Eddie when we’re going to get married. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering the same thing.” You smile at the thought of marrying Eddie, maybe even legally adopting Harris, if that’s something they also want. “I’m not in a rush, though, but I really do believe that Eddie’s the one. He’s my person, and I’m his. So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping that he proposes sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit. I always thought losing you wouldn’t be as hard as it was, because it felt like I had already lost you to dementia.” It feels silly to admit aloud, but it’s the truth. “I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy. But I promise, I’ll stop by more often, and I’ll have plenty of cute Harris stories to tell you.”

There’s just a bit more that you need to share before you can go. “I love you, Grandma. And…thank you for loving me, too.”

You stand up, pressing on your knees to ensure your balance. Taking one last look at the stone, you run your fingers over the jagged marble and turn back towards Eddie and Harris.

The little boy is perched on his father’s hip, squinting into the sunlight to make out your form. “You ready, Ms. Sweetheart?”

You blink through misty eyes, staring at the two people in front of you. Ten months ago, if someone had told you that your one-night stand at a dive bar would end up being the love of your life, you would have laughed in their face. But the universe does what it must to remain in balance, and it doesn’t humor any arguments.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. This is where you’re meant to be. This is who you’re meant to be: a partner, a friend, an almost-mommy.

“Yeah,” you say finally, the tears clearing from your vision and a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I’m ready.”

💚

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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incognit0slut · 8 months

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (19)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer finally takes her out on a date. Part Warning: 18+ explicit content (Public fingering) A/n: I did not forget this series, I've just been distracted I'm sorry!! I also apologize if there are any inaccuracies in some random facts, I am not as smart as him, I can only do a quick research from Google.

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

"SO, HOW DO I LOOK?"

She spun in front of the mirror, showing off the dress she had picked out that afternoon on an impromptu shopping spree. The garment had looked stunning on the store mannequin, and now, in the soft glow of her bedroom, it was more appealing.

The spaghetti straps delicately framed her shoulders, and the lavender fabric accentuated her curves. The bottom of the dress, hovering just below her knees, gave a playful vibe with a teasing slit inching up her right thigh. And the neckline, with its very low plunge, offered a glimpse of her cleavage she couldn't help but wonder whether it was showing too much skin.

"Like you want to get laid," a playful voice called.

Her laughter echoed through the room as she turned to face her phone and realized the dress was hugging her ass quite snugly. "It's too much, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Sandy's voice echoed through the phone again. She glanced at the screen, seeing her friend's smiling face. "You look gorgeous."

She grinned, the reassurance from Sandy making her feel more at ease. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

She reached for a sparkling necklace and dangling earrings, holding them to the camera. "Necklace or earrings?"

"Hmm." Sandy squinted at the screen, studying the options through the video call. "Go with the earrings. They'll add a touch of glamour without stealing the spotlight from the dress."

She nodded in agreement. "Earrings it is, then."

As she carefully slipped herself into the accessories, Sandy couldn't help but muse her thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear purple."

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "What do you mean? I've worn this color before."

"Your wardrobe either consists of black or gray. You had to go out shopping to buy this dress."

She laughed nervously, caught in the act of her predictable wardrobe choices. "Alright, fine." She pursed her lips together before letting out a sigh. "I may or may not have asked his friend what his favorite color is."

"You sly fox," Sandy laughed with a huge grin. "So you do want to get laid."

She blushed, adjusting the earrings. "I mean, if the occasion arises..."

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

"Well, not exactly, more like... strategically considered?" She tilted her head and observed herself in the mirror again. "Does it make me look desperate?"

"Of course not," Sandy reassured. "It just shows you're putting in effort. Besides, confidence is attractive. You look hot."

She blushed at the compliment, but before she could respond, the distant hum of an engine reached her ears. Her eyes widened, and instinctively, she moved towards the window and noticed a car pulling into her driveway. It wasn't the usual sleek, black government vehicle; instead, the car looked like it had seen better days, although it held a vintage charm that caught her by surprise.

Then reality finally kicked in—he was here for a date, not because of his job. They were actually going out for a nice dinner he had prepared.

She suddenly felt sick.

"Sandy, he's here," she whispered, her voice betraying a touch of panic.

Somehow Sandy still managed to hear her voice from across the room. "You'll be fine! It's not like you haven't spent time with him before."

"Not when my life wasn't on the line." She was met with silence and walked over to her phone, picking it up to find Sandy's disapproving glare. She sheepishly smiled towards the screen. "Too soon?"

Sandy shook her head with a sigh. "Only you would joke about your near-death experience."

"Spencer told me it's a coping mechanism."

"You've joked about it to him as well?"

She nodded. "He's not a fan either." The sound of the doorbell ringing brought her back to the present. "I need to go."

"Wait!" Sandy's urgent voice echoed through the phone again. She watched as her friend's expression softened. "How are you feeling today?"

A warm smile graced her lips, moved by Sandy's ongoing concern. Ever since they reunited at the hospital, Sandy couldn't stop apologizing for what had happened, even when it wasn't her fault to begin with. Her friend consistently checked in on her well-being.

"I'm actually feeling pretty good. Nervous, but good."

Sandy nodded, her smile carrying reassurance. "Good. Now, go enjoy your date."

She reciprocated the sentiment with a blow of a kiss towards the camera. "I'll call you later," she promised before ending the call. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, slipping her phone into her purse as she descended the stairs.

Spencer was waiting at the door when she opened it, all cleaned up and undeniably handsome. His well-fitted suit accentuated his strong shoulders, and the crisp white shirt beneath complemented the subtle purple tie he wore. The fabric of the suit, in a rich charcoal shade, seemed to bring out the warmth in his hazel eyes.

A nervous smile played on his lips, only enhancing his charm and giving him an endearing quality that made her heart skip a beat. His eyes, however, spoke volumes as they assessed her, taking in the way her dress hugged her curves. Spencer couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight before him.

He was so mesmerized that without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, catching her by surprise. In an instant, he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in an unexpected yet tender kiss. The warmth of the moment enveloped them, and for a brief instant, her worries seemed to fade away.

Her initial surprise transformed into a soft smile as she reciprocated the kiss, savoring the way lips moved against hers, and when he finally pulled away, he looked into her eyes with a mixture of admiration and affection.

"I couldn't resist," he admitted, his nervous smile now replaced by one of genuine warmth.

She couldn't help but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. "I'm certainly not complaining."

As they exchanged smiles, she noticed a smudge of her lipstick on his lips. She burst into laughter, breaking the moment with a lighthearted touch.

"You've got a little something right here," she teased, reaching up to gently wipe off the lipstick with her thumb.

He simply gazed into her eyes with a sincere smile. "You look beautiful."

Blushing at the compliment, she smiled appreciatively. "Why thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Come on," Spencer urged, gently tugging her arm, and she willingly followed him after locking her door.

As they walked down her driveway, she felt Spencer's hand on her lower back, a gesture that added an extra layer of comfort to their connection. Unable to contain her surprise, she couldn't help but comment on the unexpected sight of his vehicle.

"I never pictured you as someone who owned a car," she commented, her tone teasing but filled with curiosity.

Spencer chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "It may not be as sleek as the government vehicle, but it gets the job done."

She laughed, finding his revelation endearing. "Well, I'm impressed. It suits you." Her eyes scanned the vintage-looking car. "It reminds me of you actually."

"What? Old and worn out?"

She shook her head, smiling. "No, not at all. I meant classic, with a certain charm."

His smile widened at her response. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Spencer graciously opened the car door for her, and she beamed appreciatively, slipping into the vintage car's comfortable interior. The soft glow of the dashboard highlighted the nostalgia-infused details of the vehicle, making it clear that Spencer had a penchant for classic styles beyond his usual government responsibilities.

As he closed her door, he circled to the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel. The engine hummed softly and as she watched him, she felt a certain warmth traveling through her body.

In the soft glow of the car's interior, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked. His features were highlighted by the dashboard lights, casting a subtle yet captivating glow. Before he could pull away from the driveway, a spontaneous impulse surged within her.

"Wait," she said, her voice breaking the quiet ambiance of the car. Without overthinking, she reached over and gently grabbed Spencer's arm, tugging him back for a moment.

He looked at her with concern. "What's wrong?"

She smiled, feeling a surge of boldness, and leaned over to him. She closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a more passionate kiss than before.

He responded with a mixture of surprise, yet his hand gently found its way to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. His lips moved in sync with hers, and when she softly sighed in contentment, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her ever so slightly as his other hand found its place on her thigh.

But when his hand inched under her dress, she laughed and gently pulled away. "I don't think we'll be eating anything if we continue this."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Right," he murmured, readjusting himself in the driver's seat. "Sorry."

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she settled back into her seat, fastening her seatbelt. "So, where are you taking me, Handsome?"

His lips curved into a smile as he finally pulled away from her driveway. "It's a surprise," he said. "You'll see."

It wasn't really a surprise. Spencer had already mentioned wanting to visit this place and the big sign saying 'PLANETARIUM' at the entrance was already a dead giveaway.

However, the unusual quietness that enveloped the space caught her off guard. With only a handful of staff present, the vastness of the empty lobby echoed the click of her heels.

The atmosphere shifted when he gently urged her to close her eyes. Suspicion mixed with curiosity, she couldn't resist teasing him as she followed his instructions. "What do you not want me to see? I already know where we are."

A secure arm wrapped around her waist as Spencer guided her through the darkness. She could sense a grin in his voice as he replied, "Sure, but the location isn't exactly the surprise."

"What is then?" She asked. The echo of their footsteps persisted, creating a rhythm in the quiet space of the planetarium.

"The experience," he simply answered. "Keep your eyes closed a bit longer, we're almost there."

"This is kind of making me nervous," she admitted. "You're not going to kidnap and murder me secretly, are you?"

His steps faltered briefly before she let out a sigh, urging him to continue moving. "Sorry, that sounded way better in my head."

There was a heavy silence before he replied, "We should do something about you joking on that matter."

"It's called dark humor."

He softly hummed. "There's actually a psychological explanation for dark humor as a coping mechanism. It's a way for people to navigate and make light of challenging situations."

"You've mentioned this before."

"I know," he confirmed. "I just want to remind you that every time you think you're being morbidly funny you're using a well-established psychological defense mechanism."

"And what do I have to do with that information?"

"Well, for starters, you can appreciate your brain's attempt to keep things light." He gently squeezed her hip. "But maybe try to cut yourself some slack for the occasional dark joke."

She couldn't help but smile, even with her eyes still closed. The subtle squeeze on her hip added a reassuring warmth to his words. "I still don't get why your boss wants me to see the therapist you guys provided when I already have you."

Spencer chuckled and pulled her closer. "Because one, I'm not a licensed therapist. And two, my therapeutic techniques might involve a bit too much intimacy for the average counseling session."

She laughed. "You mean sex?"

"Sexual intercourse," he corrected, still not wanting to say the word, which she nudged her elbow into his side in response.

As their footsteps finally ceased, Spencer gently urged her to open her eyes. When she complied, her eyes widened in astonishment at the breathtaking sight before her—a vast array of galaxies projected onto the ceiling of the planetarium. The cosmic display painted the dark expanse with hues of celestial beauty, leaving her momentarily awestruck.

Yet, what surprised her even more was the scene at the center of the room. A table setting, elegantly arranged, caught her eye. The table was adorned with flickering candles, casting a soft glow on the carefully arranged dishes and the gleam of polished silverware.

She stood in awe. "Spencer, this is... incredible." Her eyes swept over to him. "You did all this?"

"Well, technically the staff prepared this." He guided her further into the room. "But I pulled some strings."

"Some strings? I think you pulled all the strings." She threw him a grateful smile as he pulled her chair, urging her to sit down. "This must cost a fortune."

"Don't worry about that," he assured her, settling in the seat opposite her. "I just want you to enjoy the night."

As she took her seat, the soft glow of candlelight accentuated the contours of his face. She felt a flutter in her chest, realizing she was falling even harder for him. It wasn't just the fancy setup; it was the thought behind it that got to her.

Fate truly had a peculiar way of guiding her to this present, bringing Spencer into her life. It was a bit surreal knowing that the worst things she'd been through somehow brought her to a moment like this.

Maybe, she pondered, there's a silver lining, a reminder that good things can sneak up when you least expect them. And now it was worth focusing on those good things.

So she savored his company, the easy flow of their conversation, the delicious meal he had prepared, and the soft music playing through the stereo. She also enjoyed being close to him moments later when they finished their dinner. The warmth of his presence felt comforting as they lounged in the viewing seats, gazing up at the scene above.

"Do you see the seven bright stars forming a distinct pattern?" he asked, gesturing toward a shimmering formation.

She followed his guidance and nodded. "They look like a tiny ladle or a dipper."

He smiled, appreciating her observation. "That's the Ursa Minor, also known as the Little Dipper. And the North Star, Polaris, is at the end of its handle."

"The North Star?" She repeated.

"It's a crucial navigational star. Sailors and travelers have used it for centuries to find their way. It remains relatively fixed in the northern sky, making it a reliable reference point."

"Hmm," she hummed. She then pointed to another set of stars. "What about that one?"

He followed her gaze and smiled.

"That's the Orion constellation," he said. "It's one of the most recognizable and has a lot of myths around it. In some cultures, it's a hunter chasing various prey across the sky."

"And what's the story behind that?"

He leaned in closer to her. "Well, in Greek mythology, Orion was a mighty hunter who fell in love with the Pleiades. However, fate had different plans, and he ended up among the stars, forever pursuing them."

Her gaze remained fixed on the celestial display, captivated by the tales woven into the stars. "So, he's like a romantic?"

Spencer chuckled. "In a way, yes. Myths often carry themes of love, tragedy, and destiny."

"Like human nature."

He nodded in agreement. "Like human nature."

There was a moment of silence before she turned to him. "How do you even know all of this?"

"We often travel outside the city and the skies are pretty clear in remote areas. Sometimes you can see a few constellations."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me you're a secret astronomy enthusiast while solving crimes?"

A bashful smile played on his lips. "When I have the time," he admitted. "There's something fascinating about the stars. They offer a sense of perspective."

She smiled. "It's nice to know even a man of logic and facts finds magic in the sky."

His gaze softened. "Magic has its place in the world, even for a man of logic." He suddenly reached out to the back of her ear and retrieved a dollar bill out of thin air. "See? Magic."

She couldn't help but laugh as she took the bill from him and examined it, tracing the edges. "I remember you doing this trick the first time we met."

He leaned back, a contemplative look in his eyes. "It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"

"Considering everything that happened since then, yes," she replied. "You know, I never asked why you were at that bar in the first place."

A subtle blush painted on his cheeks. "I was... enjoying a drink." When she gave him a deadpanned look, he raised his eyebrows. "What? Do I not seem like the type to be hanging out alone at a bar?"

"You stood out like a sore thumb." She gave him back the dollar bill. "I remember you barely touching your beer."

Spencer sighed, taking the money and placing it back in his pocket. "I was supposed to hang out with the team, but they ditched me."

She arched an eyebrow. "They ditched you? Why?"

He shrugged. "Apparently something important came up."

"So they left you hanging at a bar?" When he nodded, she tilted her head in mock sympathy. "Well, it certainly worked in my favor."

He watched her, the flickering memory of that night flashing before him. The first time he kissed her, the taste of her lips, the sensation of holding her naked in his arms. Then his eyes raked down her collarbone, pausing slightly at the swell of her breasts before looking back up to meet her gaze.

"It worked in my favor too."

She noticed his gaze lingering, a subtle heat spreading across her cheeks. The air suddenly shifted as he leaned closer, creating an intimate space between them. There was a magnetic pull, and she felt her breath catch in anticipation. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly grazing her skin.

"Tell me what you remember that night," he said, a low timbre in his voice.

She felt the warmth of his breath against her ear and she met his gaze with a flush coloring her cheeks. "I remember seeing you sitting alone at the bar."

His reply, a mere whisper, reverberated dangerously low. "What else?"

"You came up to me and did that magic trick." A faint smile played on her lips as she reminisced. "I was amused, and we sat together."

His eyes lingered on her mouth. A subtle tension lingered in the air, each exchange building upon the last. "And then what happened?"

"We talked," she breathed, the word lingering in the air like a shared secret as he leaned closer. "We laughed." She felt his breath brushing against her lips.

"Then you kissed me," she confessed, and in the heartbeat that followed, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers gently. She let herself sink into his touch as he held her face, keeping her in place while he continued to taste her all over again.

His lips fit perfectly and she kissed him back as eager, letting his tongue glide into her mouth so effortlessly. She held onto him, slightly pulling him closer as if he wasn’t close enough even when he was practically pressing his body against hers.

When he slowly pulled away, she suppressed a moan. "Like this?" He asked.

"Like that," she murmured, the taste of him lingering on her lips as they shared the space between breaths.

The warmth of his lips traveled down her jaw, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that brushed over her skin. "What else do you remember?"

His lips trailed further down, and she shivered. "We..." Her voice wavered, breath hitching, as his hand slid down her arm before his fingertips began to faintly stroke her skin, grazing over the hem of her skirt. "W-We went back to your place."

"Go on," he urged the words hanging in the air. She felt his fingers glide over her inner thigh, stopping abruptly as he reached the middle.

"You..." She let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up, stopping just before the rough pads of his fingers brushed over her panties softly. "...you touched me."

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing her teasingly through her damp panties before, without warning, they were pushed aside, the hot pads of his fingers finally making direct contact with her clit.

"Was it like this?"

Her hand wrapped around his forearm, trying to stop herself from moaning aloud, her eyes fluttering closed as he began to play with her clit, his fingers skillful as he rubbed in small circular motions, his eyes fixed on her. She looked over at him, her mouth going slack as she felt the sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She didn't seem like herself, and although she didn't mind public displays of affection, she wouldn't let it go beyond a kiss. She wasn't the kind of person to be intimate in public, but here she was, letting him touch her when any of the staff could walk in. Heck, she wasn't sure he was the type of person who would do something like this.

His fingers moved from her clit, dragging down her slit and collecting her arousal, briefly plunging them inside and curling upward, pressing firmly against her walls. She looked down to see his fingers gently pumping in and out of her cunt. Her legs were so wide from him that her knee was practically resting against his thigh.

"Tell me," he whispered, "Did I touch you like this?"

Her chest began to heave, her hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over her casually. "Yes," she breathed out.

Soft whimpers escaped her as she bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to be as quiet as she could manage. The fire in her stomach burned hotter with each expert glide of his slick fingers. Her legs opened wider and wider for him which seemed to please him judging by how fast his fingers began to pump into her cunt.

A strained whimper filled his ears the moment he circled her clit with his thumb, the added stimulation did nothing to help her sanity, and moans began to spill from her lips, mouth parting in pure bliss.

"Spence," she whined, voice so unsteady and breathless, she couldn't control her volume anymore, desperate moans mixing with the sounds of her wetness dripping between her thighs.

"That's it," he encouraged, speeding up his fingers. "Let go for me."

The pressure of his fingers was making her impending orgasm loom dangerously close as her back arched from her seat, hand gripping around his wrist. Her eyes flew over to him as she reached her peak, body shivering and writhing as she pushed her hips down against his fingers, feeling them slide from her pussy before circling her clit in rapid motions.

With a final gasp, she lost all control, her mind growing numb, feeling him wildly as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her entire body. She cried out silently, calling his name over and over until she grew too weak while she desperately clung to him.

When he finally pulled away, she felt her arousal dripping down her legs. She stared at him wide-eyed as he fixed her panties back in place before brushing her dress over her legs. When she kept looking at him in a daze, he softly laughed and leaned down, brushing his lips over her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"I..." she was gasping for air, a hand-tossed over her chest. "Did that actually happen?"

He chuckled, his warm breath tickling her ear. His fingers gently traced the outline of her jaw as her face flushed—lips delicately swollen, eyes glazed with a mixture of desire and surprise. The aftermath of her climax painted her cheeks in a captivating shade.

"Come on," he said, extending a hand and gently pulling her up.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice still carrying the traces of her orgasm. His gaze met hers with an intensity that spoke volumes, revealing an unspoken hunger that mirrored her own desires. His intention was clear.

"We're going home."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: it did not occur to me the possibility of CCTV cameras in a planetarium lmao please excuse me. Also, the plan is to write one last part and an epilogue to wrap it all up.

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crushedsweets · 4 months

Text

I'm the sweetest girl in town; so why are you so mean? Nina 'the Killer' Hopkins in Creeped PT 1: K-12

PT. 2: PURPOSE — PT. 3 NEW MESSAGE

General disclaimer: This AU is an amalgamation of headcanons, fanon, canon, and the occasional rewrite. There is an overarching story that HEAVILY strays from their canon stories. TW for toxic relationships, grooming, eating disorders, and self-harm. ED content is restricted to the 'middle school' section. Nina is a very personal character to me, but with a LOT of changes. Please take care of yourself and only engage in content you can handle.

BACKGROUND

❥Nina Hopkins was born on February 13, 1998, in California. She was the older sister of 1 brother, Christopher Hopkins.

❥Nina grew up with workaholics. Her father was a carpenter and her mother was a hairdresser, running her very own salon. They'd work 12 hour shifts, coming home to little Nina fast asleep on the couch, waiting for her parents. Especially her dad.

❥Nina was a daddy's girl through and through, and his guilt for never being there was evident. So he chose to shower her in gifts when he could, tutus and little pink mary-janes. Something girly and flashy.

❥Nina's favorite gift was a cheap, princess-themed makeup palette. Little Rapunzel's and Tiana's littered about her glittery pink and purple eyeshadows, set alongside cherry-flavored lip balms. She'd use the tiny sponge brush to delicately put on bright eyeshadow before school every goddamn morning.

❥It became obsessive. She'd come home and reapply. Cry when her mom makes her wipe it off before bed. Kick and scream when they threatened to take it away from her. When her mother asked why, Nina cried that it made her pretty. She didn’t want to look in the mirror without it.

❥Now, Nina wanted attention. From a young age, you could see it in her. The way she dressed, the messily applied makeup, the loud voice, fake cries. She didn't get it much from her parents, and it only worsened when she became a big sister.

❥She was about 7 when Christopher was born. Her mom may have taken maternity leave, but that still left no time for Nina. She learned how to make bottles, change diapers, and bathe newborns. No attention aside from Christopher’s tiny hands holding onto her pajamas.

❥This opened a new routine for Nina and her mom, though. Each night, her mom dozed off on the couch, rocking Christopher’s little crib. Nina curled up beside her, purple eyelids half shut, watching whatever show her mom had on.

❥Nina’s mom’s favorite show was Forensics Files. A little odd to her husband, but it immediately hooked Nina’s attention. It wasn’t age-appropriate, sure, but her mom was far too exhausted to change it. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? If Nina could wear eyeshadow, she could watch her mama’s favorite show.

❥Just like Nina’s cheap makeup set, her interest in true crime grew obsessive. She’d get in trouble at school, spending her time in the school’s library, typing away at the school’s computer. She didn’t get far with many of her searches considering the Wi-Fi restrictions, but teachers and students quickly caught on. Eventually, she got banned from the library.

❥But Nina couldn’t get those stories out of her head. Every little bit she had memorized, she scribbled away in her diary. Obsessively. She kept track of every single detail. Memorized the victims’ names, the dates, and even the times they were declared dead. Whatever information was available to the public, Nina wrote down.

❥When Nina was about 9, she got her very own laptop. A gift from her dad, and an apology for so many late nights at work. He had no idea what it would unlock for Nina. All of the forums and chat rooms and videos she’d have access to. He didn’t even know there was a fucking ‘true crime community’ online, how could he expect his little girl to get sucked into that?

GRADE SCHOOL

❥When Nina was 10, she became a bit of a recluse. Girls at school avoided her for a few years now. She spent day after day curled up by the playground all on her own, flipping through her diary and brushing everyone off in favor of it. At home, she’d retreat to her bedroom and scroll online forums.

❥She began making friends online, choosing to lie about her age. She’d befriend adults interested in the same morbidity as her. They introduced her to new content. It began with anime, usually psychological horror. Eventually, it evolved into dark manga, then gorey horror movies. Nina didn’t think much when they introduced her to liveleak.

❥Nina left her diary behind one day, a fatal mistake that she was always so careful about. A girl from her class, Claudia, picked it up. Nina didn’t see that diary for a week. She spent days sobbing over it, crying to the people she met online and refusing to leave her room in fear of it being found.

❥She was called into her elementary school’s office the following Monday. Little Nina, dressed in hot pink twinkle-toe converse and glittery lip-balm, sat uncomfortably in the stiff office chair. Her father sat besides her, a look of disappointment on his overworked face. Her diary was on the desk.

❥Nina screamed. She screamed and kicked the chair as she snatched the diary. Without a second thought, she snapped the tension in that room, resulting in her father having to hold her down. She panicked violently, and when she eventually settled down into a whimpering sobbing mess, they scolded her.

❥They began putting Nina into therapy. Weekly sessions at first, trying to dissect what was wrong with her. It made her feel worse. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with her. She wore ‘weird’ like a badge, something that all her online communities praised her for. Why was everyone acting so awful? It didn’t matter that much, though. Her parents still couldn’t carve time out of their work days for her. Weekly appointments turned monthly, turned every three months, turned never.

❥The girl who found her diary didn’t help. She read through it long before she turned it in to the teachers, snapping photos on her older sister's phone. Claudia began to keep track of Nina, similar to Nina’s habits. When the two turned 11 and entered 6th grade, Nina began experiencing relentless bullying and harassment.

❥It started with name-calling. Deeming Nina a freak show, calling her a future serial killer, or pretending to squeal and run off when Nina walked by. It snowballed into jabs at her appearance, laughing at her messily applied blush and colorful clothes. Saying she was the ugliest girl in their grade, making comments on her body and how all the boys found her gross. She very frequently fell for boys saying they had a crush on her, only to laugh at her the second she believed it. Her self-esteem was already in shambles, but the relentless harassment only worsened it.

MIDDLE SCHOOL

❥Nina found solace online. Her friends were older, more mature. They understood her. Sure, some of them made her a bit uncomfortable, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. When she turned 12, she confessed her age to them. It broke her heart when a few blocked her, but not everyone did. She clung to those who stayed. Curiously, the adults interested in staying friends with little Nina were the same ones introducing her to new disgusting content. They’d ask to video call her and stream their favorite movies. Nina didn’t realize they were snuff films at first.

❥The harassment at school didn’t stop, of course. Nina was too young to start dieting, too young to be buying expensive makeup, too young to be worrying about her appearance. Regardless, she was convinced it would solve her problems. Alongside the fixation on horror, Nina stressed about her looks. She’d sob in front of mirrors, calling her adult friends and begging them for advice. They’d ask for photos. You know, to help her. She shattered every mirror in her room, weeping over her bloody hands and sending shards along her body. Nina's new diary obsessively kept track of new numbers.

❥Nina spent every night grabbing at her face and body, desperately morphing it to look the way she wanted. She didn’t even stop to think about Christopher in the other room, listening to her wretch into the toilet after every meal. Nina was so unbelievably lost in her own world, that nobody good ever came to mind.

❥She thought about Claudia a lot. So thin, tall, and confident. Claudia had a lot of friends, too. Nina was well aware, considering how often Claudia geared their attacks at Nina. She watched Claudia daily. In 8th grade, she noticed Claudia began wearing crop tops. Nina did too. She’d tie up her shirts and untie them around her parents. Claudia wore her hair in a high ponytail every damn day, so Nina started doing it too. Nina began applying mascara and highlight the same way Claudia did. Both girls were arguably too young for makeup, but there they were, egging each other on to apply more and more. Claudia’s wardrobe was pretty simple, nothing too flashy. So Nina opted out of her rhinestones and bright pink sneakers, instead reaching for simple Converse and plain jeans.

❥By this point, a good number of them had phones. Claudia had long blocked Nina on Instagram, but Nina just made another account. A few, actually. One was an empty account with a fake profile picture and name, only used to follow Claudia without being blocked. A few more were made, used to follow Claudia and bombard her comments and messages with hateful content. Jabs at her appearance, her body, her clothes. Anything Nina could use as ammunition, she shot down Claudia’s self-esteem as harshly as her own. Nina would tell her adult friends online about it, bringing them to Claudia’s pages to attack her. It was cruel, and Nina knew that.

❥But it just felt so good when Claudia began to change. Before the end of 8th grade, she swapped to hoodies and pajama pants. No longer wore her hair up, instead used it to hide her face the best she could. She spoke quieter and didn't laugh so loud anymore. Nina felt like she won, and the freaks online cheered her on. Finally, Nina was able to drop her fixation on Claudia.

HIGH SCHOOL

❥There was an odd shift in high school. Nina had completely turned her appearance around. She obsessively posted selfies and was quite careful about her online interests. Nobody could know. She wouldn’t even share the fact that she watched anime, far too fearful of the backlash.

❥She had caught the eye of a senior at her school. His friend group had practically circled Nina, quickly offering her rides home and inviting her out. She bathed in the attention.

❥Christopher watched his big sister sneak out every other night. He’d ask softly where she was going. Gently, she’d smooth down his hair, press a kiss to his forehead, and ask him not to tell. He listened. Nina didn’t realize how much Christopher knew, and how much he kept to himself. How much of her grief he carried with him, worrying for his big sister.

❥14 year old Nina found herself at quite a few parties. Sometimes they’d be cities away, and she’d be seated on a couch at a random college party, shakily sipping away at a drink that made her nose scrunch. Eventually, the boy that brought her to these parties asked her to be his girlfriend. Nina couldn’t believe it.

❥He was the first boy of many to break her heart. It was a short month with him, till she went to the next guy. Then the next, and the next. Nina started drinking quite a bit, occasionally smoking weed and embarrassing herself on several occasions. She said it made it easier to socialize, but she really just thought it made her look cooler.

❥It grew difficult to balance both social lives. Her adult friends online continued to demand her attention at all times. Not much changed from when she was in middle school, including the way her anxiety would skyrocket when they got upset with her. She always folded to everyone in her life. She just wanted them to stay, to praise her, to tell her how kind and beautiful and sweet and funny she was. But it just felt so much better when someone in real life gave her that.

❥Yet another boy broke Nina’s heart. She thought he was the one, she really did. She spent months with him, from the end of her sophomore year to the start of her junior year. He bathed her in everything she asked for at first. She even got comfortable sharing some of her interests with him. He thought a girl liking anime was badass, but when she began to ramble about cold cases, he started to withdraw. Shortly after he broke up with her, old rumors began to resurface. Photos of an old diary slipped back into her school, shedding light on Nina’s elementary school habits. Nothing seemed to change, huh? Still talking about the same shit she was tormented for years back, but this time, they were attached to screenshots and voice memos that Nina sent to her boyfriend that year.

❥Nina knew who leaked them. Claudia, that stupid fucking bitch. Nina was never confrontational. Nobody ever taught her how to be. But this was a new low for her, dragging her right back to her middle school horrors. It’s like all of her misery, all of her insecurities, all of her rage and frustration and low self esteem accumulated into a string of stupid decisions.

❥Nina followed Claudia home that following Monday. It was long after school, with Nina patiently waiting for Claudia to finish her group project. Neither of them exactly expected this, but when Nina snatched Claudia’s hair and began bashing her head into the ground, there was a deep sense of relief.

❥Regret followed. It didn’t feel so good watching Claudia sob as she curled up on the floor, clutching her face and begging Nina to stop. A pathetically small puddle of blood pooled beneath Claudia, and the sight made Nina’s stomach churn. She threw up.

❥But Claudia was fine. Only her nose was broken and her face was bruised. Nina was expelled, now being shoved into an alternate school to complete high school. It was tearing Nina up inside to be so alone again.

❥What else was she supposed to do?

PT. 2: PURPOSE

#nina the killer #sweetart #ntk #nina hopkins #nina the killer headcanons #creepypasta #creepypasta art #creeped #nina the killer creepypasta #crp #crp fandom #creepypasta fandom #crp au #creepypasta au #creepypasta headcanon

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rosedere · 4 months

Text

The Liyue Lotus and the Merchant from Snezhnaya

(Pantalone x Fem! Reader)

MDNI +18

Cw: kidnapping, Stalking, non con elements, Graphic violence (later chapters), Yandere content *will update as the series goes on

Cross posted on AO3

1.The White Lotus (you are here), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7~

Synopsis: Unfortunately, The Regerator develops a fixation with you while you are working undercover for Yelan. And there’s no one who can get in his way of his prized Lotus.

So delighted

Drowning in happines

Floating

Far and wide

Only with you, we'll be as one soon

If it's in you, you will be loved soon

Only with you, we'll be as one soon

Baby, won't you fall in love?

You had been watching the harbor all day.

This is normally a task you complete on the regular, but today was even more urgent than usual.

Taking a dainty swig from the steaming tea in front of you from where you sat in the middle of the crowded storyteller's crowd, blending in with most of the audience, you had a perfect view of where your target was rumored to be.

After the failed mission holding Theofan in custody by your boss and the traveler, you and your bosses subordinates were sent to the shadows to find where your person of interest was.

It had just turned noon, and the skies were carrying a warm breeze singaling the change from spring to summer as you kept your eyes on the busy streets for anyone matching his description.

Taking another sip, you looked back around behind you observing the scene before you.

The storyteller was retelling some story youd heard 50 times in the few weeks you'd been sent to watch this particular area for your target.

Everyone around you was focused on the storyteller, with a few enjoying the tea or snacks they bought from the various stalls below.

No one would suspect you were the white lotus.

The highest-ranking subordinate of Yelan's intelligence gatherers—at least thats what Yelan and Ningguang named you.

Only they knew your true name.

After finishing your cautious observation, you went back to looking towards the street for the umpteenth time this day.

A shiver ran down your spine before you saw him.

“Is this seat taken, miss?”

At first, you didn't react at all to the voice, assuming it wasn't directed at you. There were many openings in front of you anyway; it seemed silly to want to be in the corner. You weren't seeing much of the storyteller's flamboyant performance anyway.

A tap to your shoulder was what made you completely aware. Looking up you saw him towering before you.

He was wearing clothes that were not at all what you would wear in the warm season: a long dark coat with purple accents and various dark insulation on the coat he wore, his hair curled and falling past his shoulder tied back with his glasses sitting perfectly on top of his nose. He also wore dark layers, with a turtleneck being the most visible one you could see.

He had no vision, which was a good sign. If things got ugly, you could immediately overpower him with your bow tucked behind your clothing.

You didn't react, keeping your poker face, before replying to his question.

“No, go right ahead,” you plainly responded towards the man.

He pulled the chair to sit next to you before sitting too close for comfort in your personal space. His cologne assaulting your nostrils didn't smell of the usual Liyue scents that were made into perfumes and colognes; it smelled cold and spicy with little to no musk foreign.

You decided to look towards the storyteller, looking beyond the screens surrounding his stages towards the safe point at the top of the Yangshang teahouse.

Yelan should be there.

“My, I've never seen you around here; is this your first time in Liyue?” the man asked.

You knew he was watching you.

Despite being undercover and being familar with disguises, acting was not your strong suit.

To be honest, you never had a situation where someone approached you in your disguise in all your 10 years working under Yelan.

Saying nothing would lead him to grow suspicious, but you didn't know what to say to the man.

“No, I was born and raised in this harbor,” you curtly responded, grabbing your tea and taking a few sips.

“I guess it was my lucky day then to run into a beautiful glaze lily like you in my path,” he said with a smile curving his lips.

He was definitely up to something.

“Thank you; I wasn't aware I'd run into you either.”

Very unaware

“Have you ever heard of the Northland Bank? Miss...” he began.

“Lián”

He smiled once more at you, crossing his hands under his chin.

“A beautiful name to fit an attractive face,” he said.

“I'm in charge of the Northland Bank; although I'm normally away to my motherland, I had to stop by to help a few subordinates, so I'm in the area for another few days,” he rambled.

Northland bank

You felt a chill rise up from your arms.

This was now escalating from an oblivious civilian blowing your cover to possibly something even worse.

Swallowing the bile from your throat, you tried to keep your composure.

"Oh, so you're not from Liyue?" You asked casually.

“I consider it a home, but I practically live in Snezhnaya nowadays,” he smiled.

“Interesting, I've never been that far; the furthest I've gone is to Chenyu Vale,” you replied.

Sipping half of your tea, you wanted to finish the cup before you had to flee.

This situation was out of your control if you said the wrong thing. The fatui were not to be messed with in the slightest.

Especially if he's who you think he is.

"Well, maybe we can go together one day; I'll have to warn; it's colder than you've ever experienced before,” he chuckled. You smile at him but decide not to respond any longer.

You hoped that if you kept staring towards the teahouse, Yelan would sense your Mayday plea.

Taking another sip of your tea, you snuck a glance besides you, only to accidentally make eye contact with him.

Great

"So, Lián, tell me a bit about yourself,” the man asked, tracing a fingertip idly on the redwood table next to you.

“What brings you here? I come every time I'm in the harbor, and I've never seen someone as eye-catching as you before,” he purred.

“I normally don't come here; I decided to come on my day off..”

"Pantalone,” he answered with a sophisticated tone.

The inkling of dread tickled the back of your head as you heard those words.

The Regerator

You needed Yelan immediately.

“Pantalone—it sounds like a name I could hear the owner of the Northland Bank having,” you giggled cutely.

He seemed to have liked the reaction from you, at least since he only had a toothy-looking grin.

"Well, I'm glad you like it,” he said.

"So, where do you work, Lián?" I'd feel terrible if you were right under my nose this whole time.”

“I work as an apothecary at the perfume shop.” You took another sip, leaving at most two sips left.

"Well, now I know where I need to stop more often," he said in an upbeat tone.

You glanced back at the roof to see your holy grail.

Yelan was watching from the rooftop now.

You got up, holding your tea cup in hand, and scooted the chair back.

“I must refill my teacup with more of this tea.”

“Sorry”

You didn't look back at Pantalone before you weaved your way past the tables towards the street below.

As much as you wanted to hasten your pace, you couldn't alert him; you just had to hopefully distance yourself and make your way back to headquarters across the way.

Looking to the left and right of the bustling street, you went towards the bridge leading out of Liyue. It was a secret way to get to headquarters without alerting anyone you remembered being told in case of a situation such as this one.

“Lián”

You tried to ignore him once again, walking towards the safety of the bridge a few feet away.

You felt a hand on your shoulder curled firmly on your cloak.

Of course, turning around, you saw Pantalone humbly smiling down at your shocked face.

“Where are you going in such a hurry? I don't mind accompanying you wherever you go.”

Something was wrong.

Your fellow shadows were nowhere to be seen, despite Yelan spotting you in a compromised situation a few minutes ago.

This could end really badly if you can't shake him.

“I'd love for you to come with me, but I must hurry to Chenyu Vale for something urgent,” you sternly said.

“I don't mind coming along,” he said, too quick for your liking.

“How about this?” you said, grabbing the gloved hand perched on your shoulder in your tinier hands.

“Why don't we meet tomorrow near the harbor strip? We can talk all evening if you want.” You flirted.

Blegh

But anything to get him to fall for your trap.

“If you promise it, Lián,” he eagerly replied.

“But I'll tell you this now– I don't like deceivers or anyone who goes back on promises,” he chuckled darkly.

He tucked a strain of loose hair behind your ear as you looked up at him with your faux grin.

“I promise,” you said, holding his hands in yours.

You then quickly sprinted into the mountains, still feeling the allustrive eyes of pantalone on your compromised figure.

You didn't stop until you were in the Chasms maw.

“Respectfully, why the hell did you all not save me?” You shrieked in the dimly lit wooden room.

Yelan was sitting across from your now uncloaked body, revealing your brightly lit cryovision on your back, while your three coworkers idly sat next to her poised figure, idly swirling a lemon in her water.

“He was about to follow me into the mountains, and god knows what to me, I think he suspected I was working for the Tianquan,” you paced back and forth once again.

“You always said in a compromised position we'd have to lead the person of interest far from-”

Yelan put a hand out in a way to silence you.

"(Name), you know we wouldn't have let it get that far; he wasn't showing signs of being a hostile target from what Fa reported.”

“He actually seems to be attracted to you, if anything,” she said, curling her lips into a cheeky smile before taking a sip of lemon water.

“This new development can work in our favors; we just need you to resume playing your “Lián” character, don't you think?” She smiled at you.

“But why me? Surely we can't recruit another one of the agents to do undercover work; I don't do that,” you remarked.

“If we got another agent, he would grow suspicious, and that would arguably throw you into more danger,” she sighed, resting her hands under her chin.

“You don't have to worry; we can get you a disguise by tonight, along with new rooming accommodations and your fake occupation.” Yelan looked sharply towards you, who was anxiously pacing in front of the table now.

“Ill only do it if you guarantee you'll have eyes on me the entire time—I dont trust those fatui scum,” you pouted, crossing your arms.

“Trust me (name) if you pull this off, this will be the biggest arrest in all of Liyue." Yelan smoothly replied, “You'd be in the history books for sure.”

“So cheesy,” you puffed your cheek out.

“All I ask is that you not sleep in my bed while I'm gone.” You narrowed your eyes toward her.

“No guarantees,” Yelan casually said before crossing her arms behind her head.

You only rolled your eyes before you decided to leave for the evening.

The wall back to your home you shared with your unofficial roommate felt like it was drawn out more than usual.

Making your way towards the food stall you frequent.

However, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched as you gave your mora to the food stall owner.

Quickly grabbing your dinner, you took off towards the street leading to the small, tucked-away home you shared with your boss.

Notes:

Sorry about the shortness! Im just afraid of word vomitting every single chapter haha

#pantalone x reader #yandere pantalone #yandere content #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #minors dni #yandere x you #genshin impact #self insert

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theblorboscalledtheturtles · 3 months

Text

TMNT IDW LIBRARY GUIDE

Want to read the IDW run of tmnt, but confused by the reading order and don't want to spend money? Below is a list of everything in order, with links to library resources (primarily Hoopladigital and ComicsPlus, which are free with a library card at participating libraries) and physical book titles you can search in your library catalog! Happy reading!

This is going to take a long time to complete, so I'm going to go ahead and publish the post unfinished and just keep making edits to it. Readers can at least get a start! CURRENTLY: 6/16 Complete

Bold=reading order, Blue=BOOK, Purple=Digital, Red=Not found, Orange=additional info

*I'm going by the tables of contents from the IDW collections, but it's also on wikipedia **When searching titles, assume TMNT=teenage mutant ninja turtles, fully written out. I just abbreviated it to keep the list tidy ***I'm not going to link ComicsPlus because it requires a library-specific url to actually work. Also their availability sometimes changes. I will occasionally include a search keyword because the ComicsPlus search is funky ****Mega deep library tip: see if your library does Interlibrary Loan through WorldCat. You might have to talk to a librarian and/or fill out a special request form. But the complete IDW collections could be available that way if they aren't in your regular system. I was even able to get vol 14, which is currently out of print.

TMNT the IDW collection vol. 1 (BOOK)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #1–4 TMNT Vol.1: Change is Constant (BOOK, issues 1-4) Hoopla, issues 1-4, also on ComicsPlus

A Lot to Learn (30th Anniversary Special) Hoopla, starts pg 34, also on ComicsPlus

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #5 TMNT Vol. 2: enemies old, enemies new (BOOK, issues 5-8) Hoopla issues 5-8, also on Comics Plus

Micro Series – Raphael TMNT Micro-Series vol. 1 (BOOK, Raph, Mike, Leo, Don) Hoopla Raph Mike Leo Don, also on ComicsPlus Hoopla Raph

Micro Series – Michelangelo Hoopla Mikey

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #6

Micro Series – Donatello Hoopla Don

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #7–8

Micro Series – Leonardo Hoopla Leo

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #9–10 TMNT Vol. 3: Shadows of the Past (BOOK, issues 9-12) Hoopla issues 9-12, also on ComicsPlus

Micro Series – Splinter TMNT: Micro-Series Vol. 2 (BOOK, Casey April Splinter Fugitoid) ComicsPlus Casey April Splinter Fugitoid (search "tmnt micro-series")

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #11–12

TMNT the IDW collection vol. 2 (BOOK)

Micro Series – Casey Jones

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #13–14 TMNT Vol. 4: Sins of the fathers (BOOK, issues 13-16) Hoopla 13-16, also on ComicsPlus

Micro Series – April

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #15–16

Micro Series – Fugitoid

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #17–20 TMNT Vol. 5: Krang War (BOOK, 17-20) Hoopla 17-20, also on ComicsPlus

Villains Micro Series – Krang TMNT Villain Micro-Series Vol. 1 (BOOK, Krang, Stonk, Hob, Alo) Hoopla Krang, Stockman, Hob, Alopex, also ComicsPlus

Villains Micro Series – Baxter Stockman

Secret History of the Foot Clan #1–4 TMNT: Secret History of the Foot Clan (BOOK, 1-4) Hoopla 1-4, also ComicsPlus

TMNT the IDW collection vol. 3 (BOOK)

Annual 2012 *Wikipedia lists this in a different place Hoopla

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #21–22 TMNT Vol. 6: City Fall Part 1 (BOOK, 21-24) Hoopla, also ComicsPlus

Villains Micro Series – Old Hob

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #23–24

Villains Micro Series – Alopex

Villains Micro Series – Karai TMNT: Villain Micro-Series Vol. 2 (BOOK, Karai, Hun, Be&Rock, Shredder) ComicsPlus (search "karai")

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #25 TMNT Vol. 7: City Fall Part 2 (BOOK, 25-28)

Villains Micro Series – Hun

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #26

Villains Micro Series – Bebop & Rocksteady

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #27–28

Villains Micro Series – The Shredder

TMNT the IDW collection vol. 4 (BOOK)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #29 TMNT Vol. 8: Northampton (BOOK, 29-32) Hoopla 29-32, also ComicsPlus

Utrom Empire #1 TMNT: Utrom Empire (BOOK, 1-3) ComicsPlus

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #30

Utrom Empire #2

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #31–32

Utrom Empire #3

Annual 2014 Hoopla

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #33–37 TMNT Vol. 9: Monsters, Misfits, and Madmen (BOOK, 33-36) Hoopla 33-36, also ComicsPlus (search "monsters, misfits, and madmen") TMNT Vol. 10: New Mutant Order (BOOK, 37-40) Hoopla 37-40, also ComicsPlus *Watch out! You only need to read #37 right now!

TMNT the IDW collection vol. 5 (BOOK)

Turtles in Time #1–4 TMNT: Turtles in Time (BOOK, 1-4) *Might be out of print? Hoopla, also ComicsPlus

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #38–40

TMNT/Ghostbusters #1–4 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles / Ghostbusters (BOOK 1-4) Couldn't find it digital

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #41–44 TMNT Vol. 11: Attack On Technodrome (BOOK, 41-44) Hoopla 41-44, also ComicsPlus

TMNT the IDW collection vol. 6 (BOOK)

Mutanimals #1–4 TMNT: Mutanimals (BOOK, 1-4) *Might be out of print? On ComicsPlus

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #45–46 TMNT Vol. 12: Vengeance Part 1 (BOOK, 45-47, FCBD '15) Hoopla 45-47 +FCBD, also ComicsPlus

FCBD 2015 – Prelude to Vengeance

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #47–50 TMNT Vol. 13: Vengeance Part 2 (BOOK, 48-50) Hoopla 45-47, also ComicsPlus (search "teenage mutant ninja turtles vol #13)

Casey & April #1–4 TMNT Casey & April (BOOK, 1-4) Hoopla, also ComicsPlus

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #turtlepost #tmnt idw #idw tmnt #tmnt reading guide #tmnt reading order #library guide

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carlossainzwho · 11 months

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dear angel lacy, eyes white as daisies

dad!carlos sainz x mom!reader

no one is giving me the girl dad content i want of carlos so i thought i should do some myself. enjoy!

lacy woke in the morning as a four-year-old girl. she ran to her parents bedroom, only to find it empty, bed neatly done and no mummy and daddy. confused, she ran down the stairs, her little legs carrying her little body and burst into the living room.

she couldn't believe her eyes - purple and pink balloons hung from the ceiling, birthday banners were spread across the walls and a small pile of presents lay on the side of the room.

she bounced to the kitchen and there stood her parents - daddy was making fresh chocolatey special pancakes and mummy was putting up a massive banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY LACY!

'mummy! daddy! i'm a big girl now!' lacy squealed delightedly

'aw, my baby is such a grown-up! happy birthday mi amor' y/n turned around and planted a giant kiss on her little girl's forehead.

she turned to her daddy and jumped up and down. 'yayy, daddy making pancakes! i love you daddy!'

'and what about me?' y/n retorted

'of course i love you mummy!'

y/n~instagram

to my dearest little angel lacy, my daisy-eyed princess, happy 4th birthday! mummy and daddy love you 💖

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 481,455 more

carlossainz55: i remember when she was a tiny little baby 🥰

liked by yn~instagram

landonorris: happy birthday to lacy! love, your favourite uncle - you look better in papaya! 😌

oscarpiastri: happy birthday lacy, from your REAL favourite uncle! although i also agree, she definitely looks better in mclaren gear!

carlossainz55: no she doesn't pastry oscarpiastri: you bet she does, sainz yn~instagram: stop fighting you two! 🙄 oscarpiastri: yes m'am 🫡

user 1: not oscar and carlos fighting lmao

user 2: she's so fkn cute!

user 3: such a beautiful little girl!! happy bday lacy!!!!!!!

charlesleclerc: i still think i should let her wear some of my merch... the number 16 looks better on her

yn~instagram: no she doesn't, shut up frenchie

liked by pierre gasly

charlesleclerc: how dare pierre like the comment! pierregasly: the woman's go a point, charles yn~instagram: let's not forget that you are french too, pierre 🫣

liked by charlesleclerc and carlossainz55

pierregasly: ugh 🙄

carlossainz55

can you guess who the birthday girl is?

tagged: yn~instagram

liked by p1_coach, danielricciardo and 451,830 more

yn~instagram: the birthday girl is lacy!

landonorris: save some cake for me please? 👉👈

oscarpiastri: me too danielricciardo: me three p1_coach: me four! some for harlow would do too! yn~instagram: why are all of you so damn hungry 😭 carlossainz55: sorry guys i ate all of it landonorris: goddamit carlos!!

user 4: im on my knees its MY dream bday party

user 5: such a pretty girl awwwww

user 6: oh to be carlos sainz's daughter

liked by carlossainz55

user 6: HOLY SHIT HE LIKED THE COMMENT

user 7: gasp user 6: GASP INDEED

yn~instagram

got the birthday girl lacy some ice-cream!

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, lilyzneimer

liked by oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer and 355,102 more

landonorris: lacy didn't let me have some of her ice cream 😪

oscarpiastri: well she did for me, so I'M the favourite papaya uncle landonorris: no, i am! yn~instagram: for the last time, STOP. FIGHTING. oscarpiastri: yes m'am 🫡

user 8: not oscar and LANDO fighting now lmao

user 9: god i love them all

lilyzneimer: the birthday girl definitely looks happy with that ice cream! although, i do recommend strawberry flavour for next time!

liked by yn~instagram and carlossainz55

user 10: who knew f1 drivers could be such dweebs?

yn~instagram: the only dweeb on this planet is charles damn leclerc charlesleclerc: hey!

user 11: oh to be a fly on the wall in an ice-cream parlour... *sighs*

liked by carlossainz55

thanks for reading! liking and reblogging will help so much! you are always loved <3

of course, more olivia rodrigo has been used because she is STUNNING!

dividers by @firefly-graphics - thanks so much! your dividers are amazing!

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bigtreefest · 2 months

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Chapter 7: Help the Bear

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: “If you ever see me fighting in the forest with a grizzly bear, help the bear, cuz that bitch gon’ need it.” Usually, you’d say this phrase describes you. You’re tough, and your enemies are the bear, but you might be more fragile than it seems. You might have to put aside some of your issues for the night, in favor of helping a friend.

Word count: 6,722

Content/warnings: Swears, punching, anger, deception, mob themes, crying, yelling, broken promises, mood swings, pet and nicknames, nice Bucky???, everyone lowkey walking on eggshells around decks, high stress, kidnapping, a bar fight, mentions of knives, misogyny

Author’s Note: I feel like this is a long awaited climax which lines up with Ch. 10 of YCMBWH and Ch. 3 of Handiwork. Anyway, I’m very excited for you to read it. I’d appreciate your feedback in all forms!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

It was early Saturday morning when you stood outside of your apartment building, waiting for Gio to pick you up like you had instructed Steve. He’d sent you several calls and texts since, but you stayed radio silent, until finally, it all stopped. You didn’t have doubt, though, that he’d come through, and you wouldn’t have to drive that distance in your current state. The chance of a crash was far too high. Hm, maybe you should’ve taken Steve’s car then. No, no, you weren’t that mean. You shamed yourself for even having the thought.

The sky was full of nice shades of pink, orange, and purple, the air lacking the humidity that usually came with the rising sun. It was the rainy season, and had been for the last month, but for some reason, the conditions seemed almost drought-like, since Tuesday. How uncharacteristic.

You were pulled from your thoughts by a black SUV pulling up in front of your building, and tried to squint to see who was in the driver’s seat. You had only seen Gio once before, so you assumed it was him by the dark hair you could just barely make out through the tinted window. Good, that meant it wasn’t Steve, even though the vehicle had an eerie resemblance to his. The trunk popped open and you threw your bag in. You weren’t going to be there long, anyway. All you had packed was a change of clothes for the game tonight, pajamas, and clothes for when you left in the morning. Simple as that, and it meant you could wear whatever you wanted right now, which was the comfiest thing you had: sweatpants and your old hoodie, despite the uncharacteristically warm weather.

You closed the trunk and hopped into the back seat, barely having the time to get buckled as the car lurched forward and started on its way out of the city. You looked through the window at the passing buildings as they turned into trees, on the route that was becoming familiar once again.

Bucky grumbled as he tossed and turned in his oversized leather desk chair, arising from the short sleep he had found there after a late night of business dealings designed to be front loaded for him to have this weekend open. He moved to stand, only for his feet to be met by something soft, that was definitely not the hardwood floors, under his loafers.

“Ah, fuck! Steve? What are you doing down there? Why didn’t you fall asleep on the couch, like a normal person?”

Steve groaned, rolling over just enough to look at his best friend above him. “Couch is too comfy. Floor keeps me on edge, just barely asleep. I deserve that. And now I’m up so we can go immediately. You’re welcome, I did this for you and your future wife.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and stepped over the lump of blond and muscle on the floor, creeping towards Sam, who actually was on the couch, while grumbling, “We don’t know if she’s my future wife. We hardly have a label.”

Bucky flicked Sam’s ear for him to rise, met with an, “ow! I’ve been up since you have, boss man!”

Bucky rolled his eyes again, walking over to the closet in the corner of his home office and grabbing his and Steve’s go bags that they had packed the night before.

“Okay, we’ve gotta get there soon. Sam, you still good with holding down the fort here?”

Sam nodded, having sat up fully, unlike Steve, who was still laying on the floor, face down. “Yeah, although, I’m not sure about our buddy over there. Stevie, rise and shine,” he sang out softly.

Steve stood after taking a sharp, deep breath, his eyes red and face puffy just barely, that it looked like allergies from sleeping on the floor. “Okay, I’ll drive my car, and Bucky, you’ve gotta go get Decks.”

Bucky stopped all movement, going still as a statue from where he was double checking the contents of his bag, before turning around slowly. “I’m sorry, what? You want me to go pick up Decks? No. Your girl, you pick her up.”

Steve’s head dropped as Sam let out an audible wince at the whole thing, before explaining, since he knew Steve had very little desire to be verbal right now. “Boss, Decks hasn’t talked to Steve since Tuesday. Steve can’t go pick her up, I think it’ll just make her more mad. And look at him,” he gestured to Steve, hair in a mess and head still pointing towards the floor as he rubbed his eyes, “poor puppy is gonna be broken if he has to see her this early in the morning. She’s gonna eat him alive. At least you’ve got Honey waiting for you on the other side. Steve sure as hell doesn’t.”

The help from Sam had morphed into something a little hurtful, albeit true, but Bucky still huffed. “If Decks doesn’t want to see you, why’d she agree to a ride from us?”

Steve shook his head, finally looking up. “She didn’t. She agreed to a ride from Gio, who’s in Italy currently because you were trying to be a nice boss, or whatever. So you’ve gotta drive her.”

In an instant, Bucky’s features grew soft. He switched from boss mode to friend mode. “Okay, okay. Just…get going so you can start talking strategy with Bee and Peter early. I’ll pick up Decks and meet you there.”

Steve gave a short, grateful nod and grabbed his bag, heading out.

So Bucky found himself driving you like a chauffeur out to the farm as the early morning sun was lighting up the landscape. He was used to being up this early, and he was sure you were, too, but just in case, he’d brought some breakfast.

Once he’d gotten far enough from the city that he knew you wouldn’t try and escape once he revealed himself, he rolled down the partition. He could see you curled up in the corner of the backseat, almost cuddling, clinging to the hoodie you were wearing. It was all too familiar, as Bucky knew Bee had the same one, but the last time he had seen one of them was that time he was at your apartment and Steve had worn it. And that’s when Bucky caught a whiff. Unmistakable with how often he was around it. Steve’s cologne. The corner of his lip upturned slightly. Maybe there was still a chance for the two of you.

You were pulled from your daydream by the sound of the partition lowering, but didn’t move your gaze from the passing scenery. Maybe Gio was going to ask you if you needed a bathroom break in the long drive, or to make sure the air flow and temperature were alright, but you were surprised when you heard the voice in front of you.

It was deep, and a little familiar. “So, uh… you want a croissant?”

It was Bucky. You watched as he fished around in the passenger seat, grabbing a bakery box and handing it back to you, shaking it as a signal when you hadn’t grabbed it after a few seconds. You pulled it into your lap before looking into the rear view mirror and catching his slate eyes, watching you expectantly, yet cautiously, for a response.

You looked at the label on the box. It was a French bakery. One you’d never heard of before, especially not from the list of businesses Steve had rattled off to you when you asked what all he owned. Good.

You spoke up softly, not one much for words so early in the morning. “So’s this place yours?”

Bucky looked between your image in the mirror and the road, trying to figure out what you were referencing. “The bakery? Yeah, one of many places. And one of my favorites. Try the chocolate croissant if you haven’t had breakfast yet. It’s good.”

You nodded, sighing and gingerly opening the lid to be met by one of the best smells probably ever. You carefully pulled out a chocolate croissant and took a bite, holding in a moan at the deliciousness, but Bucky could see the enjoyment on your face, no matter how brief, due to the overwhelming weight of today sitting on your shoulders.

“Told you.”

You simply hummed in response, setting down the pastry and waiting to swallow to speak up.

“So, Bucket. I thought Gio was supposed to pick me up, but it looks like Steve lied again. Why you? Don’t you have better shit to be in charge of?”

Bucky was changing highways, so he kept his eyes on the road. He had half a mind to defend his best friend, but he didn’t want to open up that can of worms when you still had a couple hours of driving left. Plus, he knew it went farther than that, and it wasn’t technically his fight. Touching on your self-deprecation probably wasn’t a good idea, either. He’d leave that to Honeybee, much better versed in seeing you like this, he assumed. But from what he could tell, this seemed far from your normal self-assured, resigned state that he quite appreciated. He opted to comment on the dissection of your sentence that mainly had to do with him. That was probably a good domain to stay within for now. “You don’t have to call me that, y’know.”

You took another bite and shrugged. “What am I supposed to call you, then? James?”

“Bucky is fine.”

You let out a dry laugh. “No, that’s weird, what are you, a hick? -wait, actually, no. Forget I said that.”

Definitely not a good idea to make a distasteful joke such as that with where you both were going right now.

You shook your head looking down at the box. “But you still didn’t answer my first question.”

Bucky spun the wheel around the clover leaf and effortlessly merged on the open roads. “Gio’s on vacation in Italy, so you’re stuck with me. But don’t worry, Steve’s already on the road ahead of us.”

Well, he did what you asked, but you left his answer unacknowledged, besides a huff as you set the box aside. So much for trying to tread lightly.

“What? Decks, sweetheart, are you mad at me for bringing up Steve?” You crossed your arms and legs, glaring at Bucky and hoping it would set him on fire, sadly unsuccessfully, through the mirror. It was a good thing you weren’t a witch, anyway, though, because Bee would’ve killed you if it had worked.

“Ugh! What is up with that!? Everyone calling me ‘sweetheart?’ You, Sam, Steve! I’m not some little token helpless woman.”

Bucky opened his mouth defensively to reply, before closing it and furrowing his brows in thought at your full statement. “Wait a second, Steve called you ‘sweetheart?’”

You rolled your eyes yet again, and decided you weren’t done with that croissant quite yet, so you grabbed the box from your side and took another bite, not bothering to swallow this time before talking with your mouth full. “Yeah, like a few times, and then Sam did when he drove me home, and you did just now. What’s the deal?”

Bucky wished you weren’t sitting directly behind him, because he would’ve fully turned to look you in the eyes for this. He didn’t realize how serious it all was between the two of you, but he should’ve, considering how enamored he was, too, with his own girl. Obviously Steve was capable of the same thing.

“Swee- Decks. For Sam and I, that’s just how we were raised. I mean, Steve was raised the same way, but…” He stopped to think for a second so it came out the right way.

“Sure, you’re right, ‘sweetheart’ is a term of endearment for anyone in our community. Any guy will call pretty much any woman that, but not Steve. Ever since we were young, he refused. Said he was saving it. That it deserved to be used for someone really special. Someone with the sweetest heart. At least for him.”

You scoffed and questioningly shook your head. “Bucket, that is not me.”

He shrugged once again. “Maybe. And maybe that’s what you try to show, but to him it is. That’s you. He doesn’t take those things lightly.”

You grumbled, taking the last bite and licking your fingers before Bucky handed you a napkin. “I had it under control.”

He smirked, catching another whiff of Steve’s cologne when your arm reached up towards him. “Sure, ya did. Hey, when’s the last time you washed that hoodie? Surprised you wouldn’t wanna use that old thing as a napkin,” he said in a playful tone, laughter almost emerging from his voice.

Evidently you didn’t want to wash it. You wanted to keep it clean, let it have this scent as long as possible. After you crumbled the napkin, you threw it up towards him in the front seat before pulling your hood up.

Bucky swerved slightly, but not enough to cause concern. “Hey, watch it. I’m in charge of your safety up here. I’ve gotta deliver us both unharmed. It’s paramount.”

You’d just about had enough of this oddly chipper attitude from him. Bucky was very obviously excited to see Bee again and you couldn’t blame him. Their relationship was honest from the start. The small tinge of normalcy you’d had for a second started to wear off again, though, as that weight began to sink back onto your shoulders. You pulled your hoodie strings tight around your face, letting the smell and the comfort fully engulf you, and hoping to catch just a little more sleep before the long day ahead.

“Okay, whatever. Fuck off, Bucket.”

When you pulled up to the farm, you were gently shaken awake by someone who had climbed in the back seat with you so that they didn’t open the door you were leaning against and make you fall out. When your eyes fluttered open, though, you were met with a face you hardly recognized, causing you to spring into action and punch him right in the nose, not that hard, but also not that lightly.

The young man in flannel in front of you clattered into the back of the passenger seat, holding his nose, when you finally recognized him. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! You’re that kid who works for Bucky. Are you okay?”

He nodded, backing away and out the other side of the vehicle, scrambling to get away quickly, not sure if you’d hit him again, just based off association. “Yeah, yeah, all good.”

You could hardly hear him, voice fading as he ran into the house.

You took his words at face value, finally reorienting yourself to where you were now, seeing the green and gold landscapes and red barns outside your window. Right. Bee’s farm. For the bet. With the mob bosses. Gone was your concern as your angry face, or really more of an attempt of a flat affect came back.

You slid across the back seat, empty of the bakery box that was once there, and moved to get out of the door that was left open. When you emerged, you were met with the sight of Bee and Cherry picking through the pastries you had left behind, their nervously smiling faces lit up by the mid morning sun.

“Decks! Good morning! It’s so good to see you.”

Bee gave you a side hug you didn’t return and Cherry gave you a little wave before giving Curtis a little bite of her croissant. Gross.

Curtis thanked her with a kiss on the cheek before coming over to you and giving a bear hug, despite the way you tried to push him off. Eventually, you relented, relaxing in his hold, that of a long-time, good friend. He rubbed his hand against the top of your hood, messing up the hair underneath, before returning to Cherry’s side, grabbing his own pastry out of the box.

A small “hi” was all you could muster up to use to greet the three of them, but it was enough. You pointed over your shoulder to indicate you were going to grab your bag from the trunk, finally pulling the hood off your head and turning around. When you pivoted, though, you were only met with Steve there, your bag over his shoulder like it had been so many times before, his glassy eyes taking you in.

His voice was small and scratchy like you’d never heard it before, like he’d been silent for weeks, as he mustered up a, “Hey, Decks.”

You promptly spun back around and stomped into the farm house and up the steps, passing Bucky on the way to your usual room. When you opened the door, though, you were met with the sight of a young man sitting on your bed, ice against his face and a jolt when he saw you bust in.

“Uh, hi Miss Decks. Can I help you?” You groaned at the weird formality, but were in no mood for something like this to throw you off on such an important day.

“Yeah. You can get out of my room. You’re gonna share the other spare with Steve. No questions, okay?”

He simply nodded, beginning to grab his stuff as you stripped the bed of its sheets. He was actually complying very nicely, so you felt bad for being so assertive with him…and punching him in the face.

“So what’s your name and what’s your job?”

He stopped and looked at you, confusion and fear riddling his face. “I-I’m Peter, miss. I was assigned to stay here to help with shipments and watching over miss Honeybee. I just go wherever they say. Sometimes do tech, sometimes intelligence. Really anything.”

You nodded and hummed, pulling a new set of bedding out of the top of the closet. “So what exactly does that make you, Peter? Fourth in command?”

He cocked his head to the side, zipping up a bag, before helping you put on the new sheets. “I guess I never thought about that, but no. Technically I think I’d be fifth at least.”

You nodded along, grateful for the acquiescence that seemed to run through this organization and his kindness you were evidently not returning. With all the stress, though, you didn’t even really have the time to wonder who was number four. He finished gathering everything in his arms and sprinted out the door, across the hall to Steve’s room, before realizing there were three guest rooms and he might be able to take the last one, depending on where Bucky planned to stay. Out of indecision, he just dropped everything at the end of the hallway and went back downstairs, leaving you to lay over the comforter in contemplation. Peace wasn’t something that would come to you today.

It was early afternoon when Cherry finally came up to find you, not the person you would’ve expected to do so. She knocked on your door with a sweet smile.

“Hey, Decks. I know you’re probably in game mode, but Bee thought it might be a good idea for you to come over to my place. We can pick you out a nice outfit for tonight. Eat something, maybe? It’s my understanding you haven’t had anything since early this morning and apparently, from what I’ve been told, ‘the good stuff’ is waiting for you at my apartment. And it’s no boys allowed for this afternoon. You get to do whatever you need to get in the zone without distraction. How does that sound?”

You groaned before you nodded, launching yourself up out of the bed quickly to a seated position. “Yeah…that’s good. I mean, I already have an outfit, but that’ll be good. Let me just hit the bathroom real quick and I’ll meet you in the driveway, okay?”

She nodded with another soft smile and went back down the steps.

Soon after she was gone and you’d gathered what you needed, not even bothering to consider how your bag had made it to the corner by the doorway of your room, you shuffled over to the bathroom in your socked feet and washed your face. When you were all dry, you looked at your reflection in the mirror. It was you, but it was different. Not unrecognizable, but maybe barely.

Exhaustion laced your features. Dark bags had settled under your eyes from the lack of sleep. You were in a perpetual state of puffiness from all the crying you’d kept to yourself, yet everything just looked…sunken. Like, saggy with sadness. You smiled, trying to boost your mood, make it feel like you weren’t going through hell. Trying to put on a brave face for your friend and her world. Everything this whole week was a lot, and as much as you were trying to ice out the terror, you could feel it seeping through the cracks. One final smile and one final wipe of your nose, and you were ready to go, galloping down the staircase and out to Bee’s truck where she was already waiting for you. You slid up in the seat, squeezing Cherry between the two of you, and went on your way towards town.

When you got to Cherry’s apartment, there were bowls of pasta sitting on her small dining room table that must’ve been for you. Ah yes, that was probably ‘the good stuff’ she was referring to. Cherry immediately went to the kitchen to grab bowls and utensils, handing them to you and Bee, as you took in the scent of the the still-steaming arrangement.

Despite your feelings toward everything Steve lately, the gesture and nostalgia still warmed you. The three of you sat, as you savored every bite in silence, Bee and Cherry holding soft conversation on the side and respecting your wishes until the meal was done and you felt just a little bit better. A little bet fuller in your heart and your stomach.

You didn’t have to worry as Bee and Cherry assured you that they’d clean everything up, directing you towards the bedroom where you’d found something else sitting there, waiting for you to find it. It was a record player, just like the one in your apartment. The one you’d promised Steve you’d play the song on before you’d fallen asleep to that old movie. And next to it was a stack of vinyls, some you recognized as the same as your collection, plus some new ones you’d mentioned you liked before, but never got the chance to acquire. On the stack was a small sticky note that said:

“You got this, Decky. -SR”

You couldn’t help the way a smile crept onto your face at his thoughtfulness. Sure, you were mad at him, but this was far from a cheap gesture. It was just what you needed to fully lock in, and maybe raise your spirits to get through tonight and do this for someone besides yourself. You put on a record, mood brightening by the minute, and began swaying through the room until Cherry and Bee came in to meet you.

Their faces lit up seeing your slightly improved mood, this moment acting like a brief reprieve from a day constantly growing in intensity. The two of them began rifling through the closet, pulling out a bunch of outfits for you to try, and throwing them into a pile on the bed. At least you had your music.

When Cherry’s shift at the bar was set to start, the three of you drove over, you wearing a short, flouncy tennis dress that was far from what you were used to. The clothes you had packed for this evening were just jeans and a tee, but according to your friend, that wasn’t good enough, so here you found yourself in something completely out of character. At least it had shorts underneath.

You were about an hour early for the match, but the bar was already buzzing with patrons. As Cherry went to clock in, you could see the group of guys already sitting in the booth, talking in hushed whispers until you and Bee approached. Bee instantly gravitated towards Bucky’s lap with a kiss, and you were going to sit next to Curtis, but he stood up, passing you with a nod and heading straight for the bar with Cherry. So much for having a buffer.

You were left to sit next to Steve, your already nervous state making you shake and avoid eye contact, whether you wanted to or not. Bucky sat up, saying something about checking with guards and Bee followed him, leaving the two of you alone, sitting too close for how much room the booth had now gained.

You took in a shuddering breath, looking around the crowded room, seeing the pool tables and envisioning the event that was about to go down. You felt so isolated in that moment, before you felt a large, warm hand on your thigh.

“Decks, sweetheart. You there? You alright?” You looked up and to your side at Steve, the seclusion of the tall seats allowing him to be the only one who could see the tears in your eyes. Here you were, all dolled up at the hands of Cherry, about to ruin it, but that was the least of your worries. The pressure was about to crash over you and Steve needed to seal those dam walls before a flood broke out.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Why don’t you and me take a second to go into the break room or something? We have the time.”

You simply nodded and scooted out of the booth. Steve grabbed the hat off the top of his head, placing it on yours to hide your distraught face from any possible prying eyes before grabbing your hand and rushing the two of you across the dance floor.

He’d seen most of your range of emotions. He’d seen you playful, he’d seen you focused, he’d seen you happy, he’d never get enough of that, he’d seen you mad, probably more than enough for a lifetime, but he’d never seen you quite like this, with tears threatening to spill over.

Before you knew it, you were on an old couch in a back room you had never seen before, crying into Steve’s chest as he held you closely, hand rubbing your back, and shushing you gently.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You got this. Hey, look at me. You can do it.”

You pulled your hands up to wipe your eyes as Steve searched the room to find you tissues, dabbing away the wetness as you sniffled.

“Tell me what’s going on, sweetheart. What can I do to help? What’s on your mind?”

You tried to speak, but you were gasping for air. The farthest thing from your mind was anger at him, or the pet name. You just wanted comfort. Steve began demonstrating deep breaths in front of you, helping you to calm down until it worked. He started to blow a cool stream of air towards your face, drying more of the wetness, and rubbing his large, warm hands up your arms, redirecting your focus to the gestures. Finally you were almost fully settled and ready to talk.

“I’m just so…scared. Sure, I’ve dealt with things that were high-stress before, but never with this high of stakes. I didn’t ask to be dragged into all of this, but now the whole mess hinges on me. This entire thing. Legitimate lives are riding on me. That’s a lot.”

Steve nodded along. He got it. This was hard, and it was a lot of pressure, especially since it all came crashing towards you at once. He wished there was something he could do to fix it, to take some of that off of you, but he couldn’t. He felt like he was the reason it was all hitting so hard in the first place. All he could do was try and keep you pumped up, and ready to go for tonight. He knew you had a game face, maybe he could help you put that on so you could beat these pricks once and for all. Maybe that would be enough for him. He knew you were giving him a chance, just for tonight because Bee was mostly what mattered, and he was going to make the most of that opportunity while it lasted.

He ran his hand over your hair, pulling you close one last time and planting a kiss to your hairline before sighing and slapping his hands on his knees to get up.

“Alright, up we go. C’mon.” He held out his hand for you, but all you did was sit there and look at him confused.

“Unfortunately, you don’t have all night, Decky. Stand, or I’m dragging you.”

You must not have moved fast enough, because before you knew it, your floppy body had been pulled to its feet and Steve was slowly manipulating each part. He kicked your one foot back, widening your stance, and bent each arm, curling your fingers into fists. He moved in front of you, holding up his hands, flat and open, just like boxing practice. He bounced between his feet on the ground, shifting back and forth.

“Alright, go for it. Let’s see what you got.” You huffed, landing a weak punch against his palm, and Steve laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Let’s go, Decks. I know you’re better than that. Harder. Get angry.”

And you did, you punched harder, you punched faster, and you were relentless, raging in a rain of fists, jitters long gone and replaced with a fire of fury. Fuck Cole. And fuck Lloyd. And fuck this whole fucked up mess of misogyny that threatened the livelihood of an innocent woman.

Steve grabbed your fists, snapping you out of it as you stood there, chest rising and falling with deep breaths. “There it is. Use that.” He looked at you intently, imploring you to be yourself, the confident, driven, capable woman he knew. You were back, if only for a few hours, but that was all he needed.

You settled yourself with a single breath, hands falling to your sides after you smoothed your dress and grabbed Steve’s hat back off where it had fallen onto the couch when you threw your head at his chest. You stood there with your eyes closed for a second. “Steven, do I still look okay? Bee said I have to look hot to distract these pieces of shit, and I’d hate to know that I’ve got a hair out of place. Please fix it before I go back out there.”

Steve smiled, just a little one he knew you couldn’t see, as he took a walk around you, tugging down the back of your dress and gently combing his fingers through your hair, taking his thumbs to swipe over your cheeks and fix the slight run of makeup from your tears. He gently grabbed the hat out of your tight clutch, playing with the brim. “You, uh…you want my hat? Would that make you feel better? Preserve an air of mystery and make you not have to look directly at the ‘pieces of shit?’”

You revealed a small, soft smile he thought he’d never see again and nodded, opening your eyes as he placed it back on your head, straightening it just so. He smiled just as sweetly when he saw you, actually saw you for the first time in awhile. Then, you weren’t sure what was happening as he squatted down in front of you, closing his eyes just like you had before.

“Okay, now it’s your turn to fix my hair before we go back out there. You messed it up when I gave you my hat.”

You strutted back out into the bar, face stoic, and stride powerful, your skirt flowing from the speed. Steve was a few steps behind you, surveying the area to see Bucky and Bee had returned, chatting with two men by the pool table.

You clocked them as well, not recognizing the two, but seeing one in an oddly crisp brown jacket, common for the area, but usually more beaten up on the folk around here, and the other in a knitted, collared shirt, nose pronounced by the neatly trimmed mustache underneath. Far too fancy for a place like this. These must be the men.

You walked up to Bee’s side, noticing her tight-lipped smile. “Decks, this is Cole, and this is Lloyd. He’ll be playing against you.”

You simply nodded, taking a step back. These men obviously had no desire for handshakes, only giving you a curt nod as well, as Lloyd stepped away, pulling a pool cue out of a case.

You rolled your eyes under the brim of the hat. Of course this rich prick had his own cue. You walked over to where Steve was at the rack of cues on the wall, looking at each and evaluating which one looked the best after years of wear and tear in the old joint. He pulled one down, wordlessly asking if it worked and you nodded, handing him a little block of chalk.

“Will you hold this for me throughout the game? And a glass of water please?” He nodded and headed to the bar, ready to be at your service.

When you returned to the table, negotiations had already been made and Lloyd was starting. That already put him at an advantage, but it would be fine, as long as he couldn’t get all the balls in on the first try.

His break was successful. Sharp, forceful, and precise: something that seemed mimetic of his pristine and obnoxious appearance. With two striped balls in the pockets, he went for the next one, and the next one, of your favorite suit. It was bad enough that you had to play solids, but he was surprisingly doing well. On his attempt for a sixth sink, though, he missed, giving you the chance to step in.

You took a sip of the water in Steve’s hand, rubbing the tip of your cue with the chalk in his other. You took a deep breath, leaning over the table for your first shot. It was the furthest thing from your mind, but Steve, and hell, everyone around, took notice of you bending over for it. Steve’s eyes quickly averted, though, going straight to Lloyd and Cole, as they were shamelessly gawking, doing what you’d said they would, and hopefully losing their if focus because of it. Your jaw ticked. You were angry, and you were focused, and you were fed up, and you were ready to go. There was no way you were going to mess up. You took your shot. Sunk.

That was followed by four more, easy angles, at least for you. You didn’t even look at the two men your were competing against. The only other person you could see in your zone of focus was Steve, if that, mostly because he was holding the materials you needed to win. Anyone else, anything else, was the enemy. Blocked. This was about winning, just like the years of swindling this game had set you up for. Seven hits, seven successes, one left, so you called the pocket. It was intense, and your face was unreadable. You took the shot, not even looking to see it go in, because you knew it would. Instead, your face was turned towards the two out-of-place men, your lips slowly growing smug as small crowd that had gathered around the table erupted in cheers.

You dropped your cue on the table, waltzing up to Lloyd as Bee stood in front of Cole.

You pointed a finger into the expensive fabric on the man in front of you and looked up into his eyes, dark like the deepest, deadest ocean.

“A deal is a deal and you just lost. Now hop off from my friend’s and all the other businesses I hear you’ve been harassing. Aren’t you guys all about your word?”

You were taken aback by the dark chuckle you were met with. “Oh, cupcake, that’s cute. You think I got this far on my word? No way. You may have won this fool’s game, but you all have yet to start mine.”

After gesturing over to Cole, he put his hand over his chest, dramatically gasping in a mocking manner.

“Oh no. Where’d your precious cheese curd go?”

Your head whipped over to the bar where you’d last seen him, but were met with the sight of an empty stool. Curtis was missing.

At this point, you didn’t care about the scene you were about to make, because that crossed a line. Curtis hardly had anything to do with this entire situation and they kidnapped him? Fucking why? Before you could even register what was going on, you lunged for Lloyd, trying to punch and scratch at him, but only hitting air. Something had caught you in the middle of your movement, picking you up, leaving you kicking and clawing at nothing, but you still had your voice. Curtis was innocent, and like a brother to you, and he didn’t deserve whatever this was. So you screamed, flailing in Steve’s arms, you’d know his arms and the smell of his cologne anywhere, but that wasn’t really what you were focused on right now.

“FUCK YOU, LLOYD! FUCK YOU AND THAT UGLY ASS MUSTACHE!! FUCK YOU FOR BREAKING A PROMISE!!!”

Out of the corner of your eye, even as you were backed away, you could see Cole shift and hold his hands up. “I swear. This wasn’t part of the deal. I was just doing what I was told. I didn’t know about any of this.”

You knew how much it sucked to be left out of the loop, but you still didn’t feel sorry. Cole was literally trying to commandeer the farm. He was far from innocent. You wiggled and turned as much as you could in Steve’s tight hold.

“And fuck you, too, Cole!! You ruined chocolate milk for me!”

The last thing you could see before the crowd descended was Bucky delivering a swift blow to Lloyd’s jaw, followed by him grabbing Cole by the collar.

Your attention was pulled to something else, though, by Steve’s hands on either side of your face once he had set you on a bar stool. “Decks, Decks! I need you to look at me.”

His nose was almost to yours. “I need you to watch Cherry. I have to go and check on the guards. See what happened out there and if Curtis is really gone. You need find out what happened in here. Take this.”

He slipped something in your hand that you had no idea how he concealed in the simple button-up denim shirt and jeans he was wearing. “Take out anyone who comes at you that you don’t know.”

You looked down at what was in your grasp: a small throwing knife. Without waiting a second, you snapped into survival mode, jumping behind the bar with Cherry. No one was around the two of you right now, luckily, as a full-on bar brawl had broken out.

You turned your body towards Cherry, but your head was on a swivel watching your surroundings. “So tell me what happened. When did Curtis disappear? Did you see anything?”

She frantically shook her head. “No, a-all I know is that some girl asked me to pour her a drink. She had a bunch of specifications, and when I made it and turned back around, Curtis was gone, and so was she.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What did she look like?”

“I don’t know? Kinda short, dark hair? Annoyingly fit? Now that I think about it, kinda like the female version of the guy you were playing pool against. That’s not a coincidence, is it?”

You threw your head back. It definitely wasn’t a coincidence. It was probably Lilian.

“Ah, shit.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: The moments between Decks and Steve here were much softer than I’d anticipated them to be, but there are so many different ways to act under stress, and I think it means a lot that she’s not necessarily able to stay in her normal cold manner of upsettedness when there’s so much at stake beyond just her. Things change when others are depending on you.

Taglist: @evie-119 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @thedonswife13

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gaymergirlie · 7 months

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BG3 Patch 7 Wishlist:

10+ hours of Wyll content to put him on par with the others

Higher level cap. 12 is far too low imo

Gale’s purple blanket that was supposed to be added in patch 5 (also maybe give Astarion one? Why are we fucking on the forest floor?)

More greetings for Wyll.

Minthara and Halsin to occupy different areas at camp. I appreciate the opportunity to have them both now, but why are they sharing a tent? The camps are massive especially in act three. There’s plenty of room.

Maybe another romance scene for Wyll? The other origins all have at least three. (Party kiss doesn’t count imo.)

A body slider, or perhaps some further character customization options. At the very least make some of the face options open to other races.

Wyll Ravengard. He’s such a neat character I think they should expand on him like they did for Halsin.

More lines for Wyll.

More Wyll.

#i like that blade of frontiers guy. i wish he got more attention :(#bg3 #bg3 wyll #wyll ravengard #baldur's gate 3

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pinkydevil16 · 2 years

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Dark! Xavier Thorpe x reader: part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Y/n sat with Xavier in every lesson, she did find it odd how he always had a seat available next to him but she was glad to have a friend than have to sit at the back and be lonely, lunch rolling round as she laughed at Xavier's jokes his hand moving to push her hair out her face as he looked at her smiling. He wanted to sketch her as she smiled at him, he hadn't sketched her without her purple eyes but they looked so beautiful with the bright sun reflecting in them.

"Y/n! Xavier!" Enid shouted across the Quad as Y/n turned her attention taken away from him as she moved to the table where their friends sat, Enid and Ajax both too shy to talk to each other more than a few words Y/n sitting next to the bubbly werewolf as they asked her how her first day was going. Y/n telling them everything including Xavier as Ajax gave him a smirk when Y/n said they sat together and chatted for most of the lessons, the art he'd shown her and how she was actually enjoying the school. Enid telling Y/n all the gossip as Xavier tried not to get upset at no longer having all of Y/n's attention, he liked that she only spoke to him, sat with him and had all her attention on him. She liked his art and enjoyed when he made it come to life, she didn't care if Bianca glared at her because she was too busy playing with her floating pen. Enid started complaining about the plans for the year, her roommate hadn't been assigned yet so it seemed she would be on her own for the year Y/n smiling as she used her powers to make a rainbow appear, Enid's eyes sparkling as she glowed with happiness.

"You'll get a roomie eventually, if not you can always sleep with me if you get lonely." Y/n said shrugging as Xavier thought of about her, his mind going back to his dream but it was fuzzy now as he looked at Y/n, Enid squealing as she squeezed Y/n close thanking her and asking to have a sleepover that night. Y/n nodded whilst rolling her eyes and grinning at the boys as Enid ran off to tell Yoko, Y/n turning towards them as she leaned forward stealing some food from Xavier with a cheeky smile.

"Is she always so happy?" Y/n said as she looked over at Enid, Yoko showing her teeth to the colourful girl as Enid went to hug her stopping when Yoko raised an eyebrow at her instead Enid laughing nodding and running back to the group landing next to Y/n and leaning into her.

"Yoko is going out for a late night bite with the other vampires so she was going to stay with them tonight anyway. This is going to be so much fun! We can paint our nails and do face masks, do you have snapchat?" Xavier stopped listening as Enid listed off all the fun things they could do, Ajax's face going into one of pure content as he leant on his hand watching Enid a small smile on his lips, Xavier looking the same at Y/n as she encouraged Enid.

"You're gonna be up all night." Xavier said with a grin as Y/n winked at him before the bell went Enid rushing to get up her and Ajax walking off to class as Xavier stood waiting for Y/n as she collected her stuff and walked next to him.

"What class is next?" Y/n said trying to find her schedule as her eyes turned purple things flying about as she huffed realising she must have lost it as she put everything back, Xavier reaching into his pocket and handing her the schedule. Y/n's eyebrow raised as he scratched his neck.

"It fell out earlier and i forgot to give it to you, also it's english." Y/n looked at him for a minute before laughing as they walked, Xavier looking at her oddly as she pushed him gently.

"So we've had a class about carnivorous plants, studying the moon and stars, potion making and now we get english? You'd think it was a normal school." Y/n rolled her eyes as they arrived, Xavier glaring at someone until they moved letting him and Y/n sit together as Y/n gave him and odd look.

"Did you just get that poor guy to move?" Xavier went red as he began to stutter trying to hide that he had been doing it all day, Y/n getting out her notebook as she poked him with her pen.

"Don't stress so much, it's cute you want to sit with me." Xavier went to say something but the teacher interrupted, Y/n's eyes moving back to the front of the room as she nodded along taking notes. Xavier started his notes but soon started sketching Y/n at the bottom of his page, Y/n looking over as she nudged him his hand dropping to cover it as he smiled at her.

"Whatcha drawing?" Y/n said in a hushed voice as she kept flitting her eyes back to the teacher as they wrote down quotes, Xavier covering his drawing with his arm as he quickly sketched a sunflower moving his arm so she could see the flower making it bloom as Y/n grinned at him.

"How did you know sunflowers were my favourite?" Y/n whispered, Xavier looked at his drawing he had drawn it so fast he hadn't thought about it but to him it made sense, he knew her better than she thought he did and he felt proud of himself.

"Lucky guess?" Xavier said, it wasn't even a lie although he hadn't guessed just instantly drawn it without thinking, he felt connected to her as she watched the flower bloom over and over with a wide smile on her face.

"Mr Thorpe, Miss L/N, are we interrupting you?" Y/n's eyes shot up as she realised how close they were, her head almost on his shoulder as Xavier looked down at her both turning to the teacher as they turned red Y/n shifting back to sit normally as she mumbled an apology. The teacher staring at them a moment longer before moving on as Xavier ripped his page passing Y/n the drawing of the sunflower as she smiled at it putting it in her notebook. Her hand smoothing over it as she wrote her notes Xavier watching her as he leaned on his elbow trying to not make it obvious as he enjoyed how she kept looking at the drawing, he wanted to paint her a thousand sunflowers just to see her smile at his work.

Xavier fenced with Ajax as they waited for the class to start, Bianca trying to talk to him but his attention turned to Y/n as she walked in tying her hair up as she walked towards the three of them a friendly smile on her face as she looked at Bianca.

"Hiya, i'm Y/n." Y/n extended her hand towards her Bianca looking her up and down before turning to Xavier.

"Really?" Bianca looking back at Y/n before walking past her bumping her shoulder as Y/n looked at her confused then facing the boys as Xavier fidgeted looking down as Ajax snorted hitting Xavier in the arm.

"Come on loser." Ajax said pulling his helmet down as he got into place, Xavier giving Y/n a lopsided smile.

"Sorry about Bianca, she's...Bianca." Xavier moved away putting his helmet on with a smile as he got into position, Y/n watching him as he and Ajax started fighting, his confidence growing as he got the first point hoping to impress Y/n before she turned feeling someone poke her. Bianca on the end of the sword as she challenged her with a smirk, Y/n raising an eyebrow shrugging as she put on her helmet, Ajax stopping as he waved at Xavier both pulling up their helmets as they watched. Bianca stood on one side as Y/n leisurely moved cracking her neck.

"What rules?" Y/n said her tone playful as she flipped her sword catching it as she rolled it between her fingers like a baton as she grinned at her behind the mask, the teacher explaining normal rules as the two started to spar, Y/n letting Bianca get a hit on her. Bianca taunting her as Y/n pretended to be annoyed letting Bianca get another hit before throwing her helmet off in annoyance.

"Alright, one last round, no rules, no helmets, first blood?" Bianca smiled as she chucked off her helmet, Y/n turning around with a wink to Xavier as she got back into position letting Bianca think she was winning until the last moment, her sword clashing harshly against hers as she spun knocking her to the ground with a small trip up placing the blade against Bianca's neck as she nicked her cheek. Xavier's jaw dropping as Bianca glared at Y/n's wicked smile, a fake pout coming on her face.

"Really Bianca?" Mocking her as she moved the tip away reaching out her hand to help her, Bianca slapping her hand as Y/n held them up in mock surrender watching Bianca as she walked off her group glaring at Y/n before following her. Xavier coming up behind Y/n as he placed a hand on her shoulder with a smile, Y/n's face turning back into a smile as she poked Xavier's side making him poke her back as she moved to grab her helmet Xavier quickly looking up as she bent over trying not to be a perv but his eyes dropped back to her. Ajax poking him with the sword making Xavier jump and look away from Y/n as Ajax rolled his eyes, Y/n now moving to stand next to them as she placed the rubber tip back on her blade.

"So who wants to go next?" Y/n said with a grin as she looked between the boys, Ajax bowing out quickly leaving her with Xavier before the teacher came over.

"Y/n Principle Weems would like to see you." Y/n nodded waving bye to Xavier and Ajax as she went into the changing rooms.

"Hello Miss L/N, i hope you are enjoying Nevermore so far." Y/n sat down placing her bag on the ground as she adjusted the long skirt looking at Principle Weems with a small smile.

"It's a good school, i'm enjoying it compared to my last one." Principle Weems grinned at Y/n as she leaned forward dropping her eyes to look over Y/n's file which was larger than most with multiple tabs.

"I was reading through your file and wanted to introduce myself personally, you are a gifted student but this is your 5th school in 3 years due to behavioural issues." Y/n sighed as she crossed her legs leaning back in the chair her eyes turning purple as she flipped the folder open to the last report sent in by her previous school.

"I don't have behavioural issues normie schools just so happen to enjoy bullying Outcasts which i don't enjoy. I promise i won't be a problem to you or the normies in the nearby town. I know this is a last resort for my mum since i gained my powers and you and i both know she was more than happy to ship me off so the chances of her taking me back are slim. I'm already making friends and fitting in, i plan to join the poecup club with Enid as one of her ladies graduated last year." Principle Weems lip curled as she looked at the report.

"Miss L/N dangled a boy in the air after he teased a younger boy from a different class, when asked to put him down she dropped him down spinning him at the last moment to land him safely but she showed no remorse." Principle Weems sat back in her chair waiting for Y/n to elaborate as she shrugged her shoulders twirling her finger with purple mist surrounding it.

"He pushed an outcast kid to the ground and called him an abomination, i asked him to apologise and he threatened me. I did everything they asked me to, apologised to him and no police report was done. Principle Weeks, i am not a bad student this is my last year and i'll be 18 in a few months. I hope we can look past my file." Principle Weeks stood up towering over Y/n as she stood up aswell, her red lips stretched into an annoyed smile as her eye twitched slightly, Y/n grinning at her as she picked up her bag.

"Have a good day Miss L/N, i hope i won't see you in my office often." Y/n nodded leaving with a small wave of the hand the door opening and closing behind her as Principle Weems sat back in her seat looking over the file before storing it with the other troublesome cases. Y/n walked through the halls the classes finished a few moments ago as she made her way to the dorms opening her door as she placed her bag down Enid already sat on her bed legs crossed texting away. Y/n raising her eyebrows as she looked at Enid who stood quickly with a wide smile pointing to her sleeping bag.

"Hey Y/n, hope you don't mind Yoko let me in." Y/n smiled sitting down on her bed and throwing her shoes off as she pulled her hair free and dropped backwards. Enid perching next to her as she bounced waiting for Y/n to talk to her, Y/n looking at her before huffing.

"I don't mind do whatever you want in here, what's the plan?" Enid squealed moving to her bag as she pulled out blankets and pillows aswell as her laptop placing them on the bed as Y/n moved to let her place them down.

"Ajax and Xavier invited us to Crackstone's crypt to hangout for a few hours then i thought we could come back and do all the fun stuff!" Y/n rolled over nodding as she groaned sitting up, Enid rushing around as she pulled out multiple outfits asking Y/n's opinions.

Xavier sat in his room his pencils all spread out on the bed as he twirled one in his hand tapping it against the paper as he looked at the sunflower, the colours blended but he wanted it to he absolutely perfect as he looked at all the different scrunched drawings of sunflowers he'd started and decided they weren't good enough. His mind reeling as he looked through his book landing on the image of her pointing her sword at Bianca, her stance beautiful and captivated as he started drawing the person under her, his hand drawing without thinking as he drew himself under her sword. Running his hand over it as the drawing moved showing her pushing him to the ground and grinning at him, his mind running wild as it kept moving until she straddled him her lips grazing his as she mocked him, his hands running along her legs as he pulled her closer her lips about to drop onto his when his dorm room door opened Rowan walking in with a small wave to Xavier. The sketchbook slamming shut as he panicked waving back hiding the book under his pillow as he adjusted his position trying to hide how the drawing had made him feel as he pushed his hair back sighing deeply. He wanted to keep drawing her, watch how the scenes played out in his head, he wondered how far he could go in his drawings.

Y/n sat next to Enid on the balcony waiting for Ajax and Xavier, Y/n dressed in a dark blue wrap top and jeans with a denim jacket, Enid in a rainbow coloured jumper and skirt her hair nicely curled and nails repainted. Y/n had done some small make up on her with her magic, Y/n doing black eyeliner and blue eyeshadow making her eyes pop as the moon beamed down on them. A stone coming over the side as the two girls moved to look over seeing Ajax and Xavier smiling up at them as Y/n used her powers to float them down, their boots landing softly as Y/n smiled at everyone.

"You guys ready?" Ajax asked as he looked at Enid, she looked so pretty he couldn't keep his eyes off her as Xavier walked beside Y/n the two others in front as they kept trying to talk only able to have small conversations before looking away awkwardly and interrupting the other.

"Hey i drew this for you." Xavier handed Y/n a folded piece of paper, Y/n unfolding it to find a beautiful sunflower which looked vivid even under the shady moonlight as they walked, grinning at Xavier as she used her powers to move into the picture and pull it out holding it against her chest as Xavier grinned at her.

"Thank you, it's beautiful." Y/n smelt it, touching the petals before placing it back inside the picture his drawing returning to normal as she ran her hand over the colours feeling the pencil marks and how much effort he'd put into it.

"You're so talented, have you ever sold any?" Xavier felt his blood run cold as she kept touching the drawing loving how she could tell he had done it over and over, the subtle lines where he'd drawn different versions and the changing of colours as he wanted to capture the best lighting.

"Sometimes, my dad wanted me to do him one for his shows so it would move when people came near but he kept saying it never looked right so now i only draw for my personal collection." Y/n folded the drawing placing it in her back pocket as she looped her arm with his leaning her head on his arm as they kept walking.

"Well your dad is wrong, your art is awesome and i would love to see your personal collection sometime." Xavier blushed happy for the dark lighting as they kept walking all four of them chatting as they arrived at the crypt.

Wednesday Taglist:@celibacy-or-death @sarcastic-sourwolf @snips-501 @lilithskywalker @parkersmyth @hey-im-bored504 @1horrormoviewhore1 @peachycupotea @moonmaiden1996 @bebopsworld @betray-jaes@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o @ilovedeadguys @kaz-2y567 @darling-twh @90sgothik@thematicallythalia @cheezybread @arivh @kaz-2y567 @akinatrix @just-sana @manuosorioh@alohastitch0626 @snips-501 @lovesanimals0000 @trashmouthsahra @whatinthefreshhellisthis@elle4404 @pasta88love @sourbiscuit @sl-t4ym1r @whatinthefreshhellisthis @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @bringontheweirdworld @laneyspaulding19 @torirosalie @nushy @

#Xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday xavier #xavier thorpe #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #wednesday 2022 #wednesday

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elliesmainhoe · 2 years

Text

BLOODY

Boxer!Ellie X Physio!Reader

Summary: Now her physio, you treat Ellie's wounds after a match.

Contents: Blood, injury, patching up, Ellie knocking someone unconscious, treatment of wounds, violence, comfort, fluff.

Part 2 of Motivation

My Masterlist

It was the sixth round of twelve. Ellie had promised that this fight would be easy and it would last three rounds at the most. But her she was bloody nose and panting as she glared at her opponent, angry at their resilience.

Ellie's opponent looked worse than she did. A black eye forming on the left side of their face and a busted lip, dripping blood from the open cut. It had been a month since Ellie's proposal for you to be her personal physical therapist and medic, and inevitability you agreed.

Now you were watching her throw punch after punch at someone's face, the crowd cheering and spurring on the violence. Ironically, you have never liked contact sports, you'd seen too many cases of sports men who played violent sport suffer horrible irreversible injuries that lead to an early retirement.

You couldn't say that you liked boxing. But Ellie did, Ellie loved it, she lived for it, it was her whole world and she knew the risks, because believe me you made sure she did, and she chose to still take part in it.

The sound of a bell ringing out drew you from your thoughts, it's chimes signalled the end of the sixth round and the beginning of the one minute interval between rounds.

Ellie's coach rushed between the rings ropes and began speaking to her, obviously trying to psyche her up for the next round. You could tell she wasn't paying him any attention, her eyes scanned the crowd of staff, her gaze softened when she spotted you.

You raised an eyebrow at her, tapping your wrist as if to say 'hurry up and knock him out'. Her smile turned into a smirk as she gestured a mock salute mouthing a joking 'Yes ma'am' and scoffed when you rolled your eyes at her.

Ellie's coach gave hera rag and she wiped her face of any sweat and blood she could before the bell rang out signalling the end of the interval. Everyone who wasn't the two fighters left the ring and soon Ellie began dishing out punches once again.

The opponent backed away while trying to dodge Ellie's swings until they found themself backed up against the ropes, now cornered by Ellie and forced to take attack after attack to the head. You could see the dizziness build up in their eyes, their arms were up, trying helplessly to shield their head from the harsh punches Ellie was dishing out.

But finally Ellie's opponents legs have out, and now laid unconscious on the padded ground and the crowd roared with excitement. The audience began the countdown.

Ellie had won. Thank God. And the referee entered the ring along with some medics. The medics attended the unconscious state of Ellie's opponent and the ref locked hands with Ellie raising it in the air as a sign of victory, the cheers that echoed throughout the room made a cocky smirk spread out on her face.

Relief fled throughout your body, watching Ellie closely, studying every bruise, cut and affliction she had accumulated throughout the match. As soon as she stepped out of the ring you rushed towards her, wrapping you arms around her shoulders carefully, trying not to disturb any angry purple bruises.

"Hey baby" she leaned down and whispered in your ears, wrapping her arms around your waist and rocking side to side. "Let's talk somewhere quieter, too loud out here to hear your pretty voice properly." She hummed before holding your hand and guiding you towards a bathroom backstage.

When you were both inside, she turned around locking the door and sighing. "Thought you were gonna lose then." You teased and laughed when Ellie's face dropped in mock offense.

"Rude. I never lose, especially not when my girls watching me... What are you doing..?"

"Looking for a first aid kit."

"of course you are" she scoffs and rolls her eyes playfully. When you finally find the white plastic box with a red cross in the middle you push yourself onto the countertop, gesturing to Ellie to come closer, she does slipping in between your legs and resting her hands on your legs, gripping your thighs.

You took out an antibacterial wipe, wiping down the various, bruises, scratches and blood on her face. Grabbing and applying various creams, balms and plasters onto scratches and cuts that littered her muscular body. Due to her wearing only a sports bra and gym shorts, you had easy access to all over her body.

"You're lucky y'know. This could've been a lot worse..." "Yeah but it wasn't, so don't worry angel, I'll be fine, can't say the same for the other guy" she chuckled, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

She leaned into you, tilting her head to the side and pressing her slightly chapped lips to your softly. You hummed against her lips, happily tugging at her hair.

"cmon sweetheart, we should go celebrate my win"

-------

Bro I wrote this and didn't save it properly and Tumblr deleted it 😭 so here it is rewritten.

Also I don't know boxing so excuse any errors when I'm writing about the boxing match lol. ❤️

NOT PROOFREAD

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tex-now · 7 months

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Ranking WxS ships, from least to most favorite

Okay listen we all know what's on top let me ramble about the other wandasho ships

#7: Emunene

I know this seems bad. Listen. I don't actually ship Emunene.... They're fucking adorable and the subtext is there and I LOVE LOVE LOVE their relationships in the stories I've read so far just. Not romantically? Like I definitely like them romantically but I vastly prefer (in terms of girlxgirl ships) honaemu or enanene. I still love them. 7.5/10

#6: Emukasa

This used to be my fave ship lol. I still adore them and their dynamic with each other, I just don't think about them as much as I used to... But don't get me wrong they still mean so much to me... 8/10

#5: Ruinene

Omg I fucking love Ruinene. I'm writing a ruinene-centered fic and i always have so much fun with their characters!! Their dynamic is just really fun to me and it's fun to play around with them knowing each other for a decade for both emotional beats and humor. 8.5/10

#4: Emurui

I. Love. Emurui. Like. A lot. I've never actually written them yet but Ive drawn them and they're so fucking FUN. the autism to autism communication. The Fucking Purple And Pink. They make me so fucking ajsjjsksjsjsjs. 8.9/10

#3: Nenekasa

I hate them. I hate them sm. I've written 1k words about them ballroom dancing that's how much I hate them. I fuck so fucking HARD with the way they bounce off of each other and also since I'm also a fucking loser I make them sappy as hell. I hate them. I hate them. 10/10

#2 Ruikasa. Wait. What....?

Yeah idk what you were expecting but I'm sure it wasn't this huh. I am unhealthily obsessed with ruikasa. I have at least ten WIP ruikasa fics. I read almost exclusively ruikasa fics. I think about them all the time. I am not exaggerating. they're not the best ship imo. But they're my favorite. 12/10

And of course the winner is you guessed it

#1: Polyshow

YEAHAHWGEWHGAHAGAHVA!!!! POLYSHO!!!! MY FUCKING BABIES!!!! THEY AKL LOVE EACH OTHER SO FUCKING MUCH THEY MAKE ME SICK I HATE THEM!!!!!! okay. like they're my second favorite but god DAMN do I eat so WELL whenever I read a WxS story because they're all so obnoxiously in love with each other. Platonic romantic queerplatonic I don't CARE. I LOVE THEM. THEY'RE PERFECT. also I write polysho the most in character so they get bonus points for that. Bonus bonus points for polysho fans always showing the fuck UP for any polysho content. I got so many comments on my (discontinued so don't read it) polysho fic and it made me so happy. 88/10

#project sekai #emu otori #nene kusanagi #tsukasa tenma #rui kamishiro #nenekasa #emurui #emunene #ruikasa #nenerui #emukasa #polysho

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irenadel · 5 months

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And if the devil... 5/10

Making a banner for this finally for the grand finale coming soon. Excuse to rb. Credit for the Aemond screencap goes to the wonderful Liv @barbieaemond Smut: The Chapter, Aemond x Maid!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

It isn’t the failing light of twilight that drives you both out of the sky, but a drizzle that turns into a storm. Vhagar herself does not care and leaves you both stranded inside a damp seaside cave, just so she can go hunting, with Aemond shouting after her in mock outrage, while you laugh so wildly and girlishly he thinks he’d rather stay here forever if you’ll just keep laughing like that.

You are better than him at gathering what little dry driftwood is to be found and he is better at setting it aflame. Neither of you are any good at fishing with bare hands so you content yourselves with drinking rain and trying to wring the water out of your clothes.

He turns his back to you the moment you pull off your drab servant’s dress and start undoing the ties of your shift. His heart is hammering in his ears and he feels the traitorous flushing return to his face and throat.

If you don’t want to shame yourself, his brother had warned him, not knowing that was all he was now, shame and longing.

You reach for the rapidly warming skin of his neck, through the soaked, beautiful strands of his silver hair, to turn him back to you.

It is his undoing.

The fear in your own face, clammy and white, cheeks starkly red. The way his hands move on their own, to the laces of your shift, taking over your clumsy, cold fingers. He has seen your naked calves before, dreamt of them locked around his waist as he plunged into you, thrown over his shoulders as he kisses the flushed red tips of your toes. He is unprepared for the gut-wrenching, dizzying strength of his arousal at the sight of your bare arms, the ribs he could count, your pert, pink nipples, the angry red scar below your collarbone and the bright purple bruises on your stomach that your nakedness can no longer hide from his hungry, avid eye. He will kill your uncle, string him from his feet and make a present of his useless hand to you. Later. Tonight, he is tearing your underskirts off, unheeding of the ripping sound some of them make, prick hard and ready because you help him, your hands are shaking, your own breath shivering, but still you offer up your long, powerful legs to him. You are white as a ghost all over, as a fresh sheet of vellum, and by all the gods he intends to leave his own mark on you.

He undoes your braid, as he has dreamt of doing incessantly for the past months, wishing to inhale the scent of your wet hair, bring it to his lips and kiss it at long last. Aemond can only hope he could offer you such a tenderness, but all he knows is the cruelty of his urgency for you.

He wraps your hair around his hand, panting madly, almost smiling, once, twice, enough to pull your head back so you will look at him. Enough to wrench a broken sound of pleasure from your throat, a sound that travels directly to the root of his cock.

“What did you say to Vhagar in Dothraki?”

“Davra nayat… good girl”

He doesn’t laugh now, not at the sheer nerve of you speaking to a dragon as if she were a nervous filly. Sees you again, on a saddle at the zenith of the world, face reaching for the wind, as he urged Vhagar higher and higher, to please a stupid, beautiful girl, born of nothing, who owned nothing… except the horizon… except himself.

He rips the ties of his doublet open, grabs your hand, grip so painful he fears he will crush your fingers in his, and places your palm on his heaving chest, his wildly beating heart. Sees you hiss in a breath and presses his face to the naked expanse of your exposed throat.

“Davrat nayat,” he says to you as he shows you how to undo his clothes.

When Aegon’s whore had undressed him, her hands had been soft as silk, her perfume so heady and potent his eye had watered because of it. When she stole kiss after kiss from his lips he had tasted the mint leaves she’d chewed before bedding him. She had called him beautiful and praised the whiteness of his Valyrian skin.

I’ve never been a prince’s first fuck, your grace.

He’d been too dazed to correct her address to him.

Your hands shake as you undo the clasps of his doublet and you curse when one of them resists you. There’s a red ammonia burn on one of your palms, right below your thumb, kitchen scrubbing no doubt. You chew on your lower lip as you peel each layer off him, toss his white linen shirt to one side. Your fingers find the slender, muscled expanse of his waist, brush his own pink nipples, unexpectedly sensitive and ready for touch. And Aemond finds the furious, shivering eagerness of your calloused hands on his chest and neck a hundred times more convincing than the whore’s honeyed words.

When you get to his breeches he pulls your chin up so you can face him. He knows he needs to look at you when you touch him, when you find the hard, eager evidence of how low you’ve brought him.

Your eyes close, brows together as if in pain, when your fingers wrap around his cock and he feels adrift suddenly, by how you fall into his body, into his need, his hips wonderfully, deliriously ready to chase your hand pulling at him.

He grips your chin hard enough to keep his own hand from shaking, bares his teeth in a snarl to keep a strangled moan in and whispers into your ear, as he steps out of his breeches.

“You don’t fight me anymore.”

You don’t answer immediately, and for a few minutes it’s just your panting breath and the slapping, wet sound of Aemond coming apart in your hand, one pull of his cock at the time.

He feels like he is going to lose his fucking mind.

“I decided to stop fighting myself.”

He does not know how to manage for himself. When you tear another kiss from his lips and go on all fours, he does not know how not to strangle one more hungry growl from his throat. When he catches the sight of your pale, pink cunt soaked and ready for him, he does not know how to stop himself from grabbing for your hips, leaving bruises of his own, or how to stop from warring within his breast the twin desires of fucking you like this, with your cunt on display for him or flipping you around so he can watch your face as you fall apart on his cock.

And it strikes him deliciously and unexpectedly that he need not decide, as he flips you on your back, drunk on the resistance of your kicking legs and the capitulation of your arms around him. He can do this as much as he wants for the rest of his life, in as many positions as he can think of.

He near sobs when he finally pushes inside you. No resistance in his way, just the warm, wet, grasping embrace of your cunt around him, clenching, milking him and he can’t stop. His face buried in your neck, your mouth kissing his temples, your breasts pressed against his chest. There’s so many things he wants to do to you. But he can’t stop pushing inside you, grinding into you, snapping his hips against yours. He can’t talk, can do nothing but clench his teeth against the mess of words and sounds that threatens to consume him.

It’s why he hears you, through the slap of skin against skin.

“My prince.”

He’s dreamed of it so often. Desired it so much. Craved it so ardently… that he can’t help but come at your strangled words. The noise he makes against your neck is shameful. He would have torn himself from your arms if his body hadn’t still been burning. He would have cursed himself for a fool if he still had breath in his lungs. But you are not deceived by his stillness.

“Aemond, are you—“

And he turns from you so quickly you are left more than confused, as dazed and humiliated as he. Both of you, naked in the chill of the evening while Aemond tries very hard not to think of a woman comforting him, the smell of mint leaves, and his brother’s scornful laughter.

“Touch me and I’ll take your fucking hand off,” he snaps back at you, unable to remember why his name on your tongue should be so odious to him, unable to think clearly except that you know so much of him, you should have known better. You have tasted him so thoroughly that he cannot think how to face you after this. No one should know him so well but Vhagar.

You stand up, despite how suddenly cold you are, with your thighs smeared in royal seed, a horribly familiar dread in your stomach as you are once more confronted with a prince who will not to look at you. You had not thought it could have been worse than humiliation, but shame and heartbreak together are too much of a burden to bear. You almost give in again, dismissed again. You almost leave and Aemond almost lets you.

And you will never know who turned around first, but you know your mouth is on his again, kiss so cruel and hungry your teeth draw blood from his dry lips. You know he fights you for control for a moment before you have him on the floor, powerful legs straddling his waist, your dull nails scraping against his nipples so that he chokes back a whine and you bite it off his lips with an angry sound of your own.

“That belongs to me,” you say, as this time, you pinch one of the tender buds on his chest, looking directly into his face, into amethyst and sapphire, before you make him cry out again. “I will not be robbed, little khal.”

He should have chastised you for your presumption, for your nails digging into his chest and your teeth closing around the sharp edges of his jaw. And he would. In time.

It isn’t over until it’s over, Ser Criston had said to him, when he was tired of Aegon’s taller frame and stronger reach giving him the advantage. It isn’t over until you decide it’s over.

And Aemond had decided, ages ago it seemed, that this would never be over.

His hand in your hand and you guiding him between your legs, until he remembers all the things he knows how to make your body do. That you do them on top of him, your hips swaying over his hand, only makes it sweeter.

He gives you the moan that belongs to you the moment his fingers find their way inside you, ripping a hungry noise from your own lips. One, two, three digits inside you until you can take no more and he is hard again, surprisingly, painfully hard. It is the sight of your beautiful, pale hair barely hiding your grimace of pleasure, your body moving of its own accord, fucking yourself on his hand, until he can take it no more, grabbing a handful of yellow hair and hissing recklessly, thoughtlessly against your bruised lips, “Ride my hand, come on my fingers. I’ll get you a dragon to ride if you do this well.”

He does not know where these promises come from. All he knows is the way your insides clench on his fingers, the way you throw your head back and he can feel you coming all over his palm, as his thumb abuses your hard, eager pearl. He can feel his cock twitch both at the thought of being inside you again and you, pale hair in the wind driving him to distraction, on dragonback.

But it is when you grab ahold of his face, looking straight into his soul, ruby-red eyes still half-lidded from your peak, that he cannot hold back any longer. Because you say it through a half-choked moan and he will make you say it again and again, as many times as he wants, in any position that he so desires, “I’ve got a dragon to ride already, my prince.”

He’s inside you again in seconds, giving you no quarter or preamble, your sex over-sensitive from your recent climax, but Aemond One-Eye is as cruel as any kitchen gossip ever named him to be. He is inside you, bigger than his slender fingers, deeper than any man had any right to be, reaching places you had never even dreamed existed, whispering delicious filth in your ear. Every wonderful, shameful thing you had ever desired from the men who had used you and so easily discarded you.

But not him. Not your prince.

“You are mine,” he says to you, too sharp and too guttural to be entirely Westerosi, with the taste of Old Valyria still on his tongue, drunk on his own blood and the one he takes by nipping at your greedy, eager lips. “To fuck you and use you as I want. Mine and no one else’s, issa jorrāelagon. My sweet, stupid girl. I’ll be the death of you. Come for me, come for your prince.”

And you do. Chasing pleasure, fucking yourself on this beautiful, idiot man’s cock. Knowing he is right about everything and you are lost to him, to the taste of his tongue and his anger and his scorn. And he is coming after you, in wonderful, warm spurts inside you, still hard as you chase your peak, long and drawn, seeming to last forever, with Aemond’s hands tangled in your hair again, urging you on with a rhythmic yes, yes, yes, still hard, still hungry for you.

Still willing after that second peak of his, to put you on your hands and knees, hair undone and more beautiful and perfect than any man you have ever seen before. Eye wild, sapphire glinting in the light of the dying fire, mouth curling in his cruel, hunting-cat smile, that you will never again be able to live without. All of it as he brings your sweet, pink cunt to his lips, dizzy from the smell of your combined lovemaking, dizzy from the knowledge of how that marks you as his and only his. And Aemond, Prince Aemond of the House Targaryen cannot know what it is to you when he runs the first, long, languorous lick against your cunt, smirking at your ragged moan of pleasure. He cannot know that every time you have been on your hands and knees for a man you had known it to be no more than a sham. A sordid, sorry fraud of a union. As if your body had known from the start that no cock and no hands and no tongue could ever serve but Prince Aemond’s. As if you had been waiting all your small, dreary life for his mouth against your cunt, ruthlessly tearing more pleasure out of your exhausted body.

He fucks you like this. The Dothraki way. Remaking the world for you with his claim on this position. Near laughing through the delicious, lingering burn at the pit of his stomach. His thighs straining and tingling because he’s come twice and is looking for a third and the sound of his legs slapping against your arse could've been enough to make him lose it. Except he knows now. That he gets to watch his cock pull in and out of you forever. Any time he wants. Gets to feel you arching against him, deliciously wanton, as desperate for his flesh as he was for yours, as many times as he so desires. And it is perfect, as he pulls your hair, one more time, one last time to prove he can, to drag you back up against him and lick a hot, wet brand up the skin of your neck, until he can whisper in your ear.

“Davrat nayat.”

And when he feels the merciless clench of your cunt he shouts against your fragrant hair, panting, kissing it, as Vhagar lights the night sky, somewhere over the sea, in a torrent of joyous flame.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #maid reader #dothraki reader #iresmut #my writing #and if the devil...

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