#if I hadn’t seen it myself I wouldn’t believe it either | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fkinavocado · 5 months

Text

in which your husband and Harry’s wife dragged you both into a situation you didn’t want to be in, but as it turns out, everything happens for a reason

Loved, heard, seen- Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings

Part One/ alternatively, read on wattpad

Part Two (word count: 3.4k)

“Hello?” Harry brought his phone to his line of vision, making sure he’d actually picked up the call, “Uhm,... hello?”

“Hi. Is this a bad time?”

Harry racked his brain to place the person’s voice, the fact that he didn’t have the number saved in his contacts made it even more difficult. It sounded awfully familiar, though… “Oh! It’s you!”

She never did give him her name. And neither did he, come to think of it. He only gave her his number before she got out of his car after he drove her home. Just in case.

“You remember?”

Harry sighed heavily. “I wish I could forget everything about that night,” he chuckled nervously. “No offence.”

“... I can't forget, either. You were right.”

“Oh?”

“Listen… would it be too… upsetting, if we met up? You’re the only person that’s been in my shoes that I feel I could open up to about this. It’s been… very lonely, eating at me… Maybe talking would help make better sense of it…”

Harry didn’t have to ponder. He’d wanted the same thing all along. He was glad she reached out to him, since he couldn’t contact her. “Name the place.”

Harry wondered if he looked as broken as she did but had just gotten used to seeing his miserable face stare back at him in the mirror every day. It’d been close to a month since the… circumstance that had brought the two of them together. Admittedly, he hadn’t paid close attention to her appearance back then, but, seeing her now, he definitely recognized some changes, albeit subtle. She appeared more frail, her under eyes darker, the polish on her nails chipped off, her lips chapped and bitten, her clothes wrinkled. He observed her over the cup of coffee he was sipping on on that rainy afternoon as she talked about how it’d been like trying to move on from that night.

“You were right. I did know, even then, that this was going to ruin us. But I kept lying to myself, thinking I could just pretend it never happened. Hoping that he’d gotten it out of his system and that things would go back to normal. You know I even dared to believe things would get better? I thought maybe this would put things into perspective for him and make him realize what a good thing he’s got going at home… Was I naive or what?”

Harry furrowed his brows compassionately, “You and I both. Believe it or not, I also hoped for the same. But, assuming things went for you guys the same way they did for us… it wasn’t quite the case, was it?”

She shook her head solemnly, staring into her cup of coffee. “He never asked me how things went on my side. He doesn’t even know I never went through with it. The following morning, he called me at around 11am. That’s… extremely late for him. He’s an early bird, chronically so. He’d been clearly… distracted. So when I told him I’d already taken an uber home he didn’t question it. He then came home and acted like everything was normal. He didn’t talk about it, I never asked him any questions. He didn’t care to ask me any, either… I wouldn’t say we’re pretending like nothing ever happened, because that’s not it at all. This… unspoken, huge thing that happened is always looming over us. Now whenever he’s late from work, he doesn’t even tell me why he’s late. It’s like… I know why. I don’t have to ask. He doesn’t have to tell me.”

“Jesus…”

The woman nodded, fidgeting with the corner of her paper napkin. “Things are better at your end, then?”

Harry almost laughed at her assumption, “To tell you the truth, I don’t even know which of us has it worse. When I got home after I dropped you off, I called her again and it went straight to voicemail for the hundredth time, so I texted her letting her know I went home and to call me to go get her if she didn’t feel like ubering. She never called for me to get her, thank god, but when she walked through the door and I asked her how her ride was she told me the guy had driven her. I was speechless, she’d actually disclosed where she lived, what else did she share with him? Aside from the obvious… Like, was this gonna be a thing now, between the two of them? I had so many questions, but then I couldn’t really say anything, could I? Since I offered to drive you, too. I’m fairly certain their report in that regard was much different to ours though… but even still, I couldn’t get myself to tell her off for it. I mean… he fucked her. Did the fact that he knew where she lived really make it worse?...”

Harry sat back in his chair, forcing himself to take a breather and calm down a bit. He was getting worked up. But when she encouraged him to keep going, and his restless leg wouldn’t stop bouncing beneath the table he gave in. “She was fucking beaming! She wouldn’t stop talking about what a good thing this is for us, how finally she feels like she can breathe, how she can’t believe we waited so long to try this… confirmed that she’d already made plans with this guy for the following weekend. I just froze. I couldn’t believe she was really saying all that. She never really asked me how things went for me, either. She just kept putting words in my mouth. See? Wasn’t it fun? You’re such a lucky bastard, men can only dream they could be in your shoes with their wives giving them this much freedom! Hell, even pushing them to do it! Can you imagine? You’re living the dream, baby.”

“Oh, God…”

“Then… one night soon after that she wanted to play and, brokenhearted fool that I am, I went along with it even though what I really wanted was for us to sit down and really talk about it. But I just couldn’t get myself to open up the subject, mainly because I already knew what her stance on it was and what it would lead to, and I wasn’t ready for that… kept thinking I could try doing this to save our marriage. I’d agreed to it, even though she’d coerced me into it if i’m being honest… but I did agree. I couldn’t blame her for the repercussions, I knew what I was getting into. So I felt like I had to see it through, had to try and make it work…

“So when she came to me all loving, and I missed her so much, I gave in, I needed to feel like us again… Make her forget about anyone else. Make her only want me. And then… in the midst of what I thought was one of my best sexual performances… she tells me she wants to try something this guy had asked her to do to him and I–... fucking lost it. I jumped out of that bed as if it were on fire. I’m sure I could’ve handled it more maturely but I locked myself in the bathroom before I said something I would regret. She kept pleading from the other side to open up and talk to her, tell her what was the matter. I realized all I had to say to her were hurtful things. I chickened out when I opened the door and saw how genuinely worried she was. She literally has no clue what I’ve been going through since that night… in her head, we’re heading in the right direction and this is only going to bring us closer.

“So, I asked her not to tell me about any of it, going further, and promised I’d do the same. That I couldn’t handle talking about it. At least not for a while… She agreed, said she totally gets it. And then we went back to bed and I never got to see what that son of a bitch asked her to do to him because ever since, I’ve avoided all her advances. She keeps making little quips such as uh-oh, running out of stamina huh? Save some for me next time. Then she giggles and asks me to just spoon her instead and I just sit there for hours on end mulling everything over while she’s sleeping soundly in my arms.”

The woman sat silent for a long while, visibly saddened. “Jack never initiates sex anymore. Like… at all. I don’t know If I’m glad for it or if I should feel even more hurt. I’m not sure I feel anything at all anymore. I feel… numb.”

“... Me too.”

After a long pause Harry added, muttering, “Fitting name, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Since he’s such a jackass.”

The woman laughed, which made Harry smile in return. He wondered whether this was the first time the two of them had done so since that night.

“You must have a really nice name, then.”

Harry’s smile lingered. “In that case, I’m sure the same goes for you.”

“You first.”

“It’s Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah. See? Nice names for nice folk. Wouldn’t hear of people with such names going around causing so much heartache, would you?”

“Absolutely not. Felicity is also… fitting in a way. Only cares about her own happiness.”

Harry gave her a look. “You actually remember my wife’s name?”

“Yeah, it’s a rare name, stuck with me.”

“True. And you’re right about her. I’ve always known it… But nobody’s perfect. Thought I could compromise on some stuff. Didn’t realize it would compromise our marriage in the end.”

“That’s… pretty huge, Harry. I know it sounds awful, but hearing you say so valides my own feelings. Like, I worried I was overreacting, thinking my marriage is over because of this. But that’s just how I feel. I can’t see us ever recovering from this mess.”

“Neither can I. It’s killing me on the inside the longer I go along with it. And even if I do speak up about it… I know it’ll never go back to how things were, which admittedly, weren’t great to begin with. This whole thing kinda helped put everything into perspective. She was right, we did need something else, be both did… I was willing to do whatever to please her, but that’s not exactly feasible in the long run. It was just a matter of time before we faced some hurdles. We’re just not on the same page sexually. I was just fooling myself thinking I could deny my own needs and that she could suppress hers.”

“So… what now?”

They both sat in silence for a long while, the coffee had gone cold and the rain outside was pouring even stronger than before.

“It’s inevitable. We have to talk to them.”

“...End it?”

Harry nodded solemnly and when her eyes immediately glazed over and she stifled a sob, he reached his hand out to cover hers reassuringly. He moved to sit on the chair next to hers and eventually wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, bringing her in to rest her head on his own. She tried to keep quiet, not to disturb the cafe’s patrons, and he gently shushed her reassuringly, telling her everything was going to be alright. Willing himself to believe it, too.

Almost two weeks had passed when Harry finally decided to text Y/N. He’d been apprehensive about it, knowing she must’ve been hurting, but also, he felt guilty for not going through with what he himself had suggested was inevitable. He hadn’t broken things off with his wife. Worse, he’d actually had sex with her, in an effort to still try and save their marriage. He couldn’t finish though, and he’d never reached full mast. Which prompted her to not get off either. It’d been a mess and it ended in Harry crying in the bathroom afterwards while she probably thought he was finishing himself off in the shower. He’d never felt more miserable in his entire life.

Felicity was away for the weekend with her new boy-toy and Harry was feeling seriously on edge. He contemplated just packing his bags and leaving. It was cowardly of him, to be sure, but he felt like he’d never go through with it and actually leave her otherwise. He couldn’t bring himself to talk to her and end things properly, like a man.

He felt emasculated in every way possible.

H: Hey. It’s Harry. Been meaning to reach out, hope it’s not a bad time… How did things go?

He was in their walk-in closet staring at his clothes and trying to work up his courage to just grab them off the hangers and toss them into the biggest suitcase he could find when she replied.

Y/N: Hey, Harry. I’m the worst… I couldn’t bring myself to do it : ( I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this anymore…

H: Don’t feel bad. I couldn’t go through with it either. But I can’t go on like this…

Y/N: What do we do : (

H: She’s with him right now.

Y/N: He’s not been home most nights. It’s over without having to even talk about it. I bet if he came back home and I was gone he’d be relieved at this point.

Harry read Y/N’s last text message before deciding to call her since they were both alone anyway. “That’s exactly what I wanna do. Just pack my stuff and be gone before she comes back. Is that… too cowardly, do you think?”

“It’s not. They don’t deserve an explanation. It’s impossible they don’t see we’re hurting. They just choose to ignore it.”

“Let’s just leave.”

“Harry… if you say that again, I just might do it. Like, right now.”

“Let’s rip the band-aid. Let’s do it. I mean it, Y/N. We can do it. We could do it together. Just… I dunno. Go somewhere and turn our phones off and be there for one another, make sure neither of us caves in and goes back… What do you say?” Harry was pumped. He could feel adrenaline surging through him. The thought of actually doing it made him giddy beyond belief.

Y/N was silent for a long while, all he could hear was his own laboured breathing. But eventually she replied, sounding resolute. “Give me half an hour. We’re doing this, Harry.”

Harry had never felt more alive. It was odd, but it was true. He finally felt like he was doing something for himself, in a long, long time. He’d packed his shit in record time, leaving him just enough to drive to Y/N’s. When she didn’t pick up her phone immediately, he felt his heart sink to his stomach. Had she changed her mind? He felt he couldn’t do this without her. But when she eventually picked up with laboured breath, she informed him she was dragging her suitcases to the elevator and couldn’t find her phone in all that rushed chaos.

Harry wouldn’t take no for an answer, and insisted he’d help her. When she buzzed him in and he reached her floor, he was mildly shocked at the amount of suitcases she’d lined up near the elevator door. He’d only packed his essentials, but Y/N meant business. It looked like she’d packed up her whole life in those bags.

“Oh wow. Ok, alright. Gotta give it to you, you’re a fast packer, considering.”

Y/N smiled at his amused tone, despite her nerves. “I dunno when he’s coming back. Had to be quick. And I knew your SUV could handle all of these.”

“How do you know it’s not already filled up to the brim with my own shit?”

She rolled her eyes when he started loading them up in the elevator, urging her inside to keep the doors open. “Please. You’re a man. I’ll be surprised if you filled two suitcases.”

Harry feigned offence. “It’s three suitcases, alright? Well, two suitcases and a backpack. And I didn’t pack everything. It’s my house, after all.”

Y/N was silent, her smile fading somewhat. “Well, this apartment is his. So…”

Harry kicked himself for opening up that can of worms but the haste in which they loaded her stuff into his truck kept them busy and hopefully took her mind off things for a bit.

When they drove off, for a long time they didn’t even talk about where they’d be going. Harry just drove aimlessly, only making sure they left town on the nearest exit. They couldn’t even use Google Maps as they’d shut their phones off and threw them into the glove compartment in complicity.

They eventually discussed some options. It couldn’t be any of the places they’d been with with their spouses. Not that either of them thought they’d be coming looking for them, but regardless.

Eventually, after driving for a few hours while keeping themselves busy singing along with whatever came on the radio to keep themselves distracted, they decided to just crash at the first decent motel they’d find on their way. It was getting too late to drive safely any further.

They were both giddy at the prospect of crashing at some random motel like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde, still high on the adrenaline rush.

Soon they found themselves in a shabby motel room under a false mr and mrs name. They’d already slept in the same bed before and so the options of getting separate rooms or twin beds weren’t even brought up. They trusted eachother beyond formalities, and besides, the pact was that they would go through this together.

They took turns showering and Y/N called for him from the bathroom when she was finished with hers. “Harry? Ugh, I brought the wrong bag with us…”

“Want me to go get it for you?”

“I mean… I just need something to change into. Do you have some extra pyjamas?”

“Uhm…” Harry didn’t have to check, he knew he’d not packed any extra in his backpack he took with him to the room. “I can give you mine but I’ll have to sleep in a t-shirt. And boxers, of course.”

“Would you mind terribly?”

“Not at all. Just… you know. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, that’s why I clarified…”

“Oh, shush. Can I have them?” She cracked the door open and stuck her hand out. “Oh, also, no knickers. I’ll be sure to wash them for you afterwards.”

Harry faltered mid-undressing, but then rushed to hand her his discarded pyjamas. “Don’t be silly.”

He threw a t-shirt on and got under the covers. Surely she’d seen men in boxers before, he was acting a bit childish. But he really meant it when he told her he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in any way.

She emerged from the bathroom, all swaddled up in the too-large pyjamas and smiled sheepishly at him, then turned the lights off and joined him on the other side of the bed.

Harry flinched when he thought he’d heard her say something. Had he already drifted off to sleep? That was… definitely surprising. He’d had trouble sleeping ever since– “Did you say something?” He whispered, just in case he’d been mistaken.

“Sorry,” she whispered back, “did I wake you? I didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep. Do you always sleep on your back?”

“... Was I snoring?”

Y/N giggled. He smiled into the darkness at the sound. Everything felt so lighthearted and easy with her around, no wonder he’d fallen asleep. “No. But are you a snorer? Because if so, I might have to reconsider this whole arrangement…”

“Oh, shush.” He playfully kicked her leg under the covers, noticing she was closer than he’d gauged. “I think all that driving got to me, plus the adrenaline crush. What did you wanna say?”

“I just wanted to thank you… I don’t think I would’ve gone through with this without you, Harry.”

Harry smiled into the darkness again. He couldn’t see her, but her words really warmed him up. “Same here. Just don’t wake me up at 4am telling me you wanna uber back home, ok?”

She giggled again. “Hell no. You’re stuck with me.”

“...Good.”

Part Three

A/N: soooo. it's gonna be 3 parts, after all 😅😅 thanks to the lovely @freedomfireflies for beta-ing ❤️

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

🦋follow me on wattpad to get notified whenever i post something new/update!🦋

#harry styles smut #swingrry #harry styles concept #harry styles prompt #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

987 notes · View notes

yougottalovebuckybarnes · 2 months

Note

Hi, I’m so sorry that you have been having a hard time and that you can’t graduate when you wanted to I know that must be hard but you’re taking the time to look after yourself and that’s the most import thing!!!!

If and when you’re up to it I’d love to see a part 3 of forgive me, also maybe with a bit of Sam included? I’m a strong believer that Sam would 100% be on Bucky and Y/n side

Forgive Me, Pt. 3 (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: This request for a third part was from AGES ago, so I apologize for the long delay lol. On the plus side, I’ve finally graduated from college so that is no longer a worry! :) Anyway, this series will definitely be getting a Part 4. I couldn’t stop writing and coming up with more ideas lol. I hope you all enjoy!

==========

“Hate” had always been such a harsh word to me. Of all the feelings that existed, that was the one that I never could seem to grasp fully. Perhaps my heart was too soft or my nature too forgiving, but I had yet to find a person that I truly hated.

I could not even find it in me to hate Steve Rogers, despite all that had happened. Forgiveness was still a work in progress, but perhaps one day I would forgive him completely.

It had been three months since Bucky had found me in our bathroom with an open medication bottle in my hand, and it had been equally as long since he had spoken to the rest of the team. While I found it impossible to hate any of them, Bucky could not stand to even look at them. We had moved out of the compound within twenty four hours of his confrontation with Steve and hadn’t been back since.

Our little apartment in the city was comfortable, but it was not home. I knew that Bucky felt the same, but he refused to admit it out loud. Several attempts to urge him to reach out to Steve had not gone well, and my heart ached as I witnessed his anger consume him. Bucky had reassured me that I was all he needed now, but I knew deep down that he needed his friends, especially Steve. This anger would destroy him if not confronted properly.

And that was why I reached out first.

I found myself in a quiet little cafe in the city on a early Tuesday morning, sipping on an iced late as I watched people make their way down the street to work. The chair across from me scrapped on the ground, and I looked up to find Steve Rogers taking a seat. His face was solemn, almost shameful as his eyes made contact with mine. It was a version of him that I was unfamiliar with. The weeks of sneering and secret glares had melted away into shame and regret.

Part of me thought I should be content, seeing him humbled in this way. But I could not find it in me to rejoice in this. Steve Rogers was doing just as bad as Bucky was, losing his best friend the way that he had. There had to be a way to remedy this.

“Good morning, Steve.” I spoke softly, watching him evenly.

“Good morning.” Steve nodded in response, looking a little uneasy. “Look, Y/N-“

“You know why I asked to meet with you.” I prompted, pushing past the need for small talk to get into what really mattered. I was also quite honestly not ready to accept his apology either, if that was what he trying to do.

“Yeah.” He sighed, looking away briefly. “I don’t know what else I can do. Bucky won’t respond to any of my messages and I wouldn’t dare show up uninvited to your apartment.”

“That would not have gone well.” I agreed, sipping again on my beverage. “But we need to fix this, Steve. I’ve never seen him like this before. He needs you.”

“No, he needs you.” Steve replied, his voice remaining even. “And I realize that now. I didn’t know how much he cared for you until that night. Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t tell me that you two got married.”

“That really surprised you?” I asked with a slight scoff. “After how you all treated me?”

“I’m not looking for a fight.” He held up his hands slightly. “I’m just wanting to fix things.”

It was silent for a moment, and I let out a small sigh as I nodded in agreement. We were both in agreement for at least this one thing. While I did care for Steve and the others like family before this mess, all I cared about now was making sure Bucky was cared for and supported. In order to do so, we had to work together.

“Is Sam in town?”

“He is.” Steve nodded. “I’m thinking he might be able to help best since he was nutural in this whole thing. Just talk things over with him. If it doesn’t work, we can figure something else out.”

“I agree.” I glanced at my phone, seeing a text from Bucky asking where I was. I began to rise from my place at the small table. “I have to go now. Let me know when Sam can come over to see him.”

“Wait.” Steve’s voice caused me to stop and I looked over at him. “I…I never gave you a chance to explain your side of things, and for that, I’m sorry. I should not have treated you the way that I did.”

I looked at him evenly, my heart aching in my chest at the memories of the day prior to my attempt and Bucky’s hospitalization. After a few moments of silence, I gave him a sad smile. “If you want to know what happened, look at the Tony’s camera feeds from that day. The journalist stopped me at the front entrance to the building so you should have clear audio. It’ll tell you all you need to know.”

And without another word, I grabbed my purse and made my way back towards my apartment.

===========

Bucky’s POV

It had been odd waking up without Y/N by my side. That had been all but established as part of our routine, early mornings spent together in bed. But for some reason that had been broken on a random Tuesday, and part of me wanted to investigate why.

But her return only an hour later had washed all my worries away and our regular life routines resumed as normal for the next week. Part way through the week, Y/N had left the apartment to run a few errands so I was left on my own on the couch watching reruns of ‘The Office’. But a sharp knock on my door interrupted my plans of relaxation.

I approached the door, assuming that Y/N had forgotten her key inside after I had locked it behind her. But the familiar face of Sam Wilson surprised me as I found him on the other side. “Sam?”

“How’ve you been, man? “ Sam smiled.

“How do you know where I live?” I returned a smile hesitantly, wondering if the others had sent him as one last resort to connect.

“I saw Y/N on the street.” He replied casually, and my shoulders relaxed slightly. “She thought it would be a good idea for me to visit!”

“Of course. Come on in.” I stepped aside, letting him into our apartment and shutting the door gently. “I haven’t heard from you in months. Where have you been?”

“Long term mission abroad.” Sam sighed, sitting down on the couch. “It was quite an interesting experience. But not as interesting as finding out you moved out of the compound. What happened?”

I froze slightly at his words. “Did Steve send you?”

“Can’t I just be concerned about my friend?” Sam replied, scoffing slightly.

“I’m not saying you can’t.” I snorted, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “But this feels like an interrogation. I have had enough of those to last a life time.”

“I did speak to Steve, but he only gave me a few details. But I also don’t want to hear just one side. I want to hear from you.” Sam replied, glancing at me. “You two are incredibly close and now you live far apart from each other. What happened?”

All that had happened began to play again through my mind. The article published, the attitude shifts from the others, the gunshot to my shoulder, finding Y/N with the medicine bottle in hand. It was almost too hard to handle. But I willed myself to speak, telling my friend all that had happened.

“How can I forgive him for this?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly. “How can I forgive all of them for this? They did not give her a chance to explain herself, and made her feel like she was worthless. I could’ve lost her forever.”

“How does Y/N feel about this?” Sam prompted gently.

“She wants me to reach out to Steve.” I sighed, sinking back into the couch. “I don’t know how she can forgive him so easily, after all that has happened.”

“Y/N talked to me too, Bucky.” My eyes flickered over to Sam, surprised by his words. “She is worried about you, deeply. “

“I’m doing just fine.” I scoffed, but slightly concerned by his words. How had I not known she was worried about me?

“So you say.” Sam replied, almost skeptically. “Don’t you miss everyone? Steve at least?”

“Of course I have!” I bristle slightly, my metal fist clenching slightly. “But how do I move on from this?”

“I know you can’t immediately forgive the others for this, and that is understandable.” Sam spoke firmly. “But you can’t stay this angry forever. It will destroy you.”

“I can be as angry as I damn well please!” I snapped, glaring at him. “They almost caused her to end her life!”

“Bucky-“

“No!” I rose from the couch, a wave of rage flowing over me. “You don’t get it, and why would you? It wasn’t your wife!”

“No, but she is my friend!” Sam did not move, keeping his gaze steady with mine. “And she is scared that she is losing you, Bucky!”

“I need you to leave.” I shake my head, walking to the door and pulling it open. “Now.”

Sam clenched his jaw slightly but did not respond as he rose from the couch before walking to the door. Just as he was about to step through into the hall, Y/N appeared with a handful of grocery bags in hand. Her smile of greeting faded as she sensed the tension in the room. “What’s-“

“Please leave, Sam.” I repeated firmly, watching him leave before shutting the door behind him. “Why did you invite him here?”

“Maybe because he’s one of your friends and you could use a visit from one?” Y/N walked into the kitchen, placing the groceries on the counter before turning to me. “Why did you throw him out of our apartment?”

“Because everyone is insisting that I must forgive Steve!” I snapped, my jaw clenched. “I can’t even fathom how you can stand the thought of him!”

“Bucky, I still haven’t forgive him yet! It’s too hard!” I shake my head as I watched him through pained eyes. “But I’m not as angry anymore. You can’t let this anger consume you!”

“I heard the exact same thing from Sam.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I can be as angry as I want!”

“Bucky…”

“Did you coordinate this with Sam? Steve too?” I scoffed, not even hiding my anger anymore. “Why are you working with the people who want you dead?”

Y/N’s face went blank for a moment before her eyes filled with hurt. Deep hurt. I had never regret speaking as I quickly as I did in that moment.

“Alright.” Her voice was quiet, trembling slightly as she picked up her purse from the counter. “Dinner’s on the counter. I’m going to go stay somewhere else for the night.”

“Y/N…” My voice cracked as I reached out to grab her hand, but she slipped away from my touch and out the door, slamming it hard behind her.

I walked over to the couch, sitting back down quietly before the first tears began to fall. I could not remember when they stopped, if ever. Perhaps the anger had already destroyed me. And perhaps I had already lost the love of my life because of it.

=====

TAGLIST (from the last part! If you wanted to be added or removed, just let me know lol)

@missvelvetsstuff

@erinallene

@ladyalexandranna

@angelwatson

@buckyalpine

@ada728

@bwhitewolfbarnes

@kjah97

@ineverybreathofyou

@sarbear94

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #buckybarnes #buckyxreader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #buckybarnesimagine

110 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 6 months

Text

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 6

And we're back on this story. I didn't get as much Halloween stories in as I wanted, but there is still a week and half left in the month so I might get a couple of one-shots out before the big day. I have one with the older teens dressing up as RHPS characters for a midnight showing I'm part of the way through that might get done in time. We'll see.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

***

Eddie hadn’t seen Steve in close to an hour and it was starting to worry him.

He been bombarded with commiseration after commiseration from friends of his grandma and their families. All the Munson family was already here.

Almost.

As far as Eddie knew, Al Munson was still in some jail in Texas for grand theft auto. His third strike in the state of Texas. Who knows how many strikes he had in other states. Wayne wasn’t telling, and Eddie wasn’t asking.

He was standing there in his best jeans and nice black button up. It wasn’t what he was going to wear to the funeral, Wayne had raised him better than that. But he thought it was nice for a wake.

And it wasn’t as though Steve was dressed up either. He was wearing khakis and a grey Henley.

But all around him Eddie could feel the eyes of the other mourners, looking at him, judging him, and absolutely finding him wanting.

He stood in the corner, sinking further and further from view as he felt assaulted by their glares.

Suddenly there was a warm hand on his back and voice in his ear telling him to take a walk outside with him.

He let Steve lead him out of the house and onto the porch.

Steve pulled out a cigarette and lit it, handing it to Eddie and then lighting one of his own.

“You grandma must have been one hell of a lady to have that many mourners at her wake,” Steve said after a moment or two of smoking in silence.

Eddie snorted. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, pretty boy. This is just close friends and family. Tomorrow’s gonna be the real shindig. It’s going to be standing room only in the church.” He paused. “Ah, shit. That’s going to be okay, right? Going to a Catholic church?”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah, that’s fine. Not religious myself. Kinda hard to be when you’ve seen the worst of humanity and actual fucking monsters.”

Eddie look a long drag of his cigarette. “I feel that. Stopped believing in God when I heard that AIDS was one of God’s modern plagues against the unrighteous.”

Steve shook his head. “That fucking blows. I figure if there was a Jesus, he was like El, you know? Just extra human, no God required.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah. I bet that’s what it was. Thanks for that.” He raised his cigarette. “And this.”

Steve bumped their shoulders together. “No trouble, Eds. I could hear what they were saying about you behind your back and I thought you could use the break.”

“You thought right, Stevie,” he agreed. “Not a Christian heart in a single one of those church goers.”

Steve hummed. “This is what I’m here for on this trip, okay? I will put myself between you and those hateful people.”

Eddie laid his head on Steve’s shoulder. “God, it’s on top of everything else, you know. The six hour drive yesterday. My aunt being a bitch to you even though you didn’t deserve it. Putting on my second best clothes and still not being good enough for them.”

“They look at you and see your dad, huh?”

Eddie froze bringing the cigarette to his mouth and turned to Steve in shock. “How the hell did you know that?”

Steve shrugged. “My parents used to throw these big parties for Christmas and their anniversary. Like BIG parties. Blow your uncle’s yearly wages on a fucking party, big. The last was when I was sixteen, right? And I could hear all the whispers about how much I looked like him and how I must be just like him. Booze, women, and lavish parties full of people that wanted to kiss my ass.”

The cigarette fell out of Eddie’s mouth and landed on his lap. He brushed it off quickly, cursing and patting at his crouch so that he wouldn’t get burned.

Steve laughed.

“Fuck you.”

Eddie stomped out the cigarette to ease his bruised ego. He huffed out a sigh. “Is that part of the reason for the attitude change? Because everyone credits Nancy and Jonathan for the cognitive readjustment, but it started before that.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Before you started dating Nancy, you stopped the big parties at your house,” Eddie said. “Hagan told me it was because your dad caught you, but that wasn’t it, was it?”

Steve’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit. I didn’t even realize.”

“You started to clean up your act for Nancy, sure,” he continued. “But you started down that path before you started dating.”

Steve stubbed out his cigarette. “I saw you listening to Depeche Mode earlier when we had finished cleaning up the house...”

Eddie straightened up. He had listened to the tape. The song Lauren had queued up for him, especially. That one over and over.

“You into BDSM there, Stevie boy?” he said with a teasing grin.

Steve laughed. “Oh god, that one. Yeah, no, man. You know the song I mean.”

“You want to tell me what went down there?” Eddie asked. “Don’t spare Nancy for the sake of my feelings, okay? You’re more important to me then some chick.”

“She had a thing for Jonathan,” he explained. “Broke up with me for a month and then came running back. I didn’t think too much of it, you know? I was just happy that she was back. I tried to be the best boyfriend I could. I don’t think I succeeded. Then I made the mistake of using the words ‘normal teenagers’ because I wanted to go to some Halloween party.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “She started drinking heavily that night. Like more than someone her stature should. I tried to get her stop and I spilled the drink all down her white dress. So we went to the bathroom to clean it up. She called me bullshit. Said our relationship was bullshit.”

“Holy fucking hell, dude,” Eddie whispered.

Steve shook his head. “I thought it was just a bad fight. Even though everyone at school was calling it a breakup. I didn’t believe it. I bought her flowers to apologize. Fucking roses.” He was on his feet and pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. “But she wasn’t home. Oh no. Her and Jonathan were on a fact-finding mission. And a fuck finding mission, apparently.”

Eddie leaned forward in shock. “She slept with Jonathan?”

Steve stopped, frozen still. He took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I still thought we were dating. She didn’t. It’s why I don’t tell people. Because she thinks she didn’t cheat on me and I think she did.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking down at his stark white tennis shoes in utter despair.

Eddie was on his feet and giving Steve a huge hug. “Thank you for telling me. I get why the music spoke to you and I won’t begrudge anyone loving music that helped them through rough times, okay?”

Steve nodded into Eddie neck, trying to not to sob.

When Aunt Penny came out a while later she found both boys just crying into each other’s arms.

“Boys,” she said gently. “It’s time for the toast to Gina.”

They reluctantly let go of each other and wiped their faces with their hands.

Wayne handed them glasses when they entered the front room. Penny picked up her glass.

“To Gina Munson!”

“Salut!” they all cheered.

Eddie and Steve knocked back their drinks with the rest of them.

There was more socializing after the toast, but this time Eddie had Steve at his side and every time they glared at Eddie, Steve would wink at them causing them to flush in embarrassment and turn away.

Finally everyone had gone, the food had been cleared away and the mess cleaned up.

Eddie and Steve silently made their way to the room they shared.

“I wanted to thank you for earlier,” Eddie said as they slowly got ready for bed.

Steve straightened up from where he had been pulling on his pajama bottoms. “For what?”

“For everything, I guess,” Eddie murmured. “For fending off bullshit...not even relatives, but friends of the family, I guess. For telling me about Nancy even though it was clear you didn’t want to. For coming on this trip in the first place. I probably would have thrown hands already if it wasn’t for you.”

Steve pulled up his pants and padded over to him to pull him into a hug. “I do it for any of our friends, Eds. But I’m glad I’m helping. I’m glad that you told me you needed me for this.”

“Single best decision of my life so far,” Eddie mumbled into Steve’s neck. “Wayne thinks so too.”

Steve laughed. “Well if Wayne says so it must be true.”

Eddie chuckled. “He is pretty smart.”

They crawled into bed and faced each other under the blanket.

“What’s really bothering you, Eds?” Steve whispered. “I can tell there’s something bothering you, but I can’t figure it out.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “It’s the stares and snide remarks, I guess. I know that like back home they all think I did it. That I killed Chrissy and Patrick and Fred. That I’m just like my dad. Maybe even worse.”

Steve pulled him close. “We know the truth. Wayne knows the truth. The people that love you know the truth. You’re a bona fide hero, Eddie Munson. They can all burn in hell if there is one.”

Eddie shook his head. “It’s more than that, I think. It’s that despite seeing me for a month every summer, that they would even think me capable of such violence. I had grown up with these people. How could they think that of me?”

“Small-minded people will always think the worst of you,” Steve murmured. “I know, it sucks. But here’s the best part about being an adult. If you wanted to, you never have to see them again in your life. You can cut them out and that’s all the say they have in the matter.”

Eddie sighed. “Thanks.”

Steve just held on until they both fell asleep.

The day of the funeral dawned cloudy and grey as if nature, too, grieved the loss of Gina Munson. Cherished wife, beloved mother, and devoted grandmother.

Eddie and Steve dressed in solemn silence. Eddie pulled on a pair of black high-waisted trousers that he had found at a thrift store before they left. He put on the black button up from the night before and rolled up the sleeves. Over the top went a nice dark grey vest. He wore his nice, white sneakers. He strapped on bracelets and bangles on his wrists and chains and necklaces around his scar on his neck.

His wasn’t as noticeable as Steve’s but he had had enough of his grandmother and aunt’s friends eyes flicking toward it and sneering last night to last a life time thank you.

Steve was dressed similarly. The nice black slacks, the black button up (buttoned neatly at his wrists), a dark grey sweater vest. He wore a suit coat over the top and nice silver tie. His shoes were shined mirror bright and his hair artfully done.

Wayne, Steve and Eddie decided to all go in Steve’s car to the funeral. They pulled into the spots reserved for family and made their way into the church. As Eddie predicted it was standing room only. They walked all the way up the aisle to where the first row had been designated for the family, too.

They sat down and the service began.

Eddie sat there, tears streaming down his face, tucked into Wayne’s arm. Steve took his hand and held on as the Father droned on and on about the life of a good woman.

The pallbearers stood up. Wayne, Oliver, Eddie, Danny, and two good friends of Gina’s lifted her coffin onto their shoulders and marched down the aisle to “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” played on the organ.

They carried the casket out into the cemetery and slid her gently onto the straps that would be used to lower her into grave.

Eddie moved back to stand next to Steve and looked out into the crowd.

He stiffened as he spotted someone near the front of the throng of people paying their respects.

Steve followed his eyes to the man standing next to a portly fellow in a black suit.

He had dark curly hair shaved on the sides. He had a neatly trimmed beard that highlighted the sharpness of his jawline. His cheekbones were as hard as his jaw and eyes. It was the eyes that really struck Steve. They were the same color as Eddie’s but so, so cold.

He bowed his head and Steve could see that his hands were clasped in front of him.

Or so he thought.

The cold man shifted from one foot to the other and Steve could see the glint of the handcuffs.

There was no doubt on who this was now.

Allen “Al” Munson had been allowed to come to his mother’s funeral.

***

Pt 7|Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #minor character death #dealing with grief

201 notes · View notes

spitdrunken · 1 year

Note

Rollo corruption kink???🤨🤨🤨

I wanna ruin him so bad but bros probably worse than me PFFFT

notes: corruption

PLEASE. MAYBE HE WOULD BE?? i'm still trying to figure out what type of horny he is... i just can't see him as the type of 'desperately repressed' guy, personally. to me he just kind of feels like hm,,, sex or masturbation has just never particularly interested him, and he would probably not know much more about it than what's told in mandatory school lessons. (not to mention, if it really is as pleasurable as he’s led to believe... someone such as him would not deserve it.) PLUS he spends most of his time around magic students nowadays and maybe he just wouldn’t wanna fuck them lmao. ANYWAY, ENJOY.

Rollo is a horrible kisser. Mere pecks on the lips already have him freezing up and leave him unsure of how to handle himself, much less anything more. He wouldn’t want you to stop, not even close, but he’d never be able to ask you to continue either. His own inexperience hadn’t crossed his mind much before dating you, but now he’s growing more self-conscious with every touch you bestow upon him. As diligent as he is, he would use the same strategies here as when he’s struggling with anything else: copious amounts of research.

It starts with him searching kissing tips online, trying to memorize the things one is ‘supposed’ to say or do in these scenarios. He watches kiss scenes in movies, reads how they’re described in novels, and tries to find variables that determine a good kiss. In reality, he’s not getting much better. He knows that if he were to try and copy scenes he’s seen, it would feel so unlike him that you’d likely start laughing. Perhaps he should just ask you to help him practice, and yet... His online searches eventually lead him to filthier content he’s never had much interest in viewing prior.

Watching two people making out is enough to get him slightly flustered, but only because he imagines doing such things with you. The two strangers on the screen touching each other, seeing their tongues and their spit... Makes him feel vaguely ill. It’s filthy. But your tongue caressing his own, the tip of your tongue rubbing against the top of his mouth- It makes him squirm. Rollo is no stranger to getting random erections, every guy his age gets them occasionally, but he’s certain this one is not merely random. Never before has the urge to touch himself been as strong as now. The scene on his phone screen has long since been abandoned, and all he can think about is you. He tries to pace around and wait until it goes away.

His building thoughts culminate into a single moment, where he finally makes a move while you lean in to kiss him. Rollo, despite all his research, has no idea what he’s doing, and simply pushes his tongue against your closed lips. Immediately, he pulls away.

“Ah... I, I- My apologies.” Rollo fumbles to pull his handkerchief out of his pocket, and nearly drops it to the ground in doing so. His face is burning up like never before. He feels a little better after taking a deep breath or two. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking. Was it- Are you alright?”

You smile at him, and it has his heart fluttering. “I’m fine, really! I barely felt it.” You laugh a little, but he doesn’t feel like he’s being made fun off. “But, please be honest- I know kissing isn’t like your favourite thing in the world, so you aren’t just doing this to make me happy, are you...? You don’t have to force yourself for me. In fact, please don’t.”

“I can promise you that’s not the case,” Rollo says. “This was something... Of a personal desire of mine, yes. I’ve never minded your kisses in the past either.” He crosses his arms and presses them close to his chest. “I will admit that I simply didn’t know how to respond yet. I’ve tried to educate myself further on the subject, but, ah... I’m not certain I’ve made much progress yet.”

Something in your expression, your smile, shifts a little. “The only way to get better at kissing, is through practice. Nothing else. Should we try?” Rollo’s throat suddenly feels a bit dry, but he finds himself nodding nonetheless.

When you press your lips to his, and your warm cheek presses against his cold skin, he’s already content. You mirror his previous action, the tip of your tongue brushing against his mouth. He parts his lips without hesitation. Your mouth makes a little noise as you readjust your head, tilting it a bit further to the side as you slide your tongue in. For a moment, Rollo’s surprised at how well he’s still breathing, until it feels awfully obvious.

Your tongue inside him feels both bigger and smaller than he expected. He tries to reciprocate, and though he’s sure the way he’s swirling his tongue around yours is clumsy, he hasn’t felt this good in ages. When you slide over the top of his mouth, a noise he’s never made before gets pulled from his throat. It’s a much more sensitive spot than he could have imagined.

Your kiss swept most of coherent thoughts from his mind. Once it’s over, Rollo is a little dazed and breathless. He leans forward to try and chase your touch when you pull away, without even realizing it. He doesn’t even try to hide his face. Nor does he clean it, despite a dribble of spit sliding down his skin. (It’s not filthy, as long as it comes from you.) All at once, he becomes conscious of just how warm he feels within, and folds his hands over his lap in a flurry of motion.

It’s such a sudden and suspicious movement, that you know instantly what’s happening to him, and it’s all just a little too much. He gets up in one jerky movement, pulling away from you and staring straight past you before excusing himself. The exact words he uses are immediately forgotten as soon as he says them. You don’t have a chance to protest before he’s gone and, the moment the door closes, he regrets it. Ah, he’s really hopeless, isn’t he...?

#cha.rollo #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #cw.corruption

2K notes · View notes

honey-flustered · 1 year

Text

Too Quiet (Fluff)

YoungDad!Steve Harrington x YoungMom!Reader

Summary: You and Steve finally get a moment of peace until you’re reminded that you’re parents of two rambunctious toddlers and a puppy. Sometimes, quiet’s never a good sign.

A/N: This fluffy thought came to me because I have a toddler niece and whenever she gets quiet we know she’s never up to any good. This also goes out to the parents who just need a little break from time to time. (Note: this has also been in my drafts for so long)

Word: 1.6k+

You appreciated the mundane. Boring can be good sometimes. Like for instance, neither you or Steve had any work that needed to be done. No errands, no chores, no 8-12-16 hour shifts. It was just a simple day where the two of you got to relax.

You found yourselves so comfortable, in fact, you hadn’t recognized that you were laid on the couch with your back against his chest, scrolling on your phone until he randomly cleared his throat.

You jolt up, looking back at him. “Whoa! When’d you get here?”

He looks up from his book, reading glasses slipping to the bridge of his nose. “I sacrifice my need to get up and pee for like 2 hours just to be your body pillow. My legs are asleep.”

You roll yourself around, facing him and wrapping your arms around his neck, “I’m sorry I’ve ignored you. It’s just so nice having these moments of downtime.”

He kisses your nose. “I understand, love. I’m really glad we don’t always have to talk to enjoy each other’s company. I like the comfortable silence.”

“Me too,” You grin. “Sometimes, I don’t always want to talk. Sometimes, I just want to scroll through my phone or eat a whole pot of mac ‘n’ cheese all by myself without the necessary judgment.”

“Weird way of bringing that up…but I get it.” Steve chuckles. “And you know what—since we’re throwing things out there—I’m so over people believing that being ‘boring’ is synonymous to being ‘old’. I mean, if I prefer staying home over going to parties it doesn’t mean I’m not still King Steve.”

“Exactly! Boring is the new fun! Like vanilla sex…it isn’t so bad.”

“It’s fantastic! We don’t always need the theatrics. It’s just so extra to have freaky sex all the time. Um, waiter, I’d like vanilla sex with a side of missionary please.”

You snort at his dorkiness. “I have to admit that I don’t always care to drink when we go out. I don’t always want to be a tipsy ditz all the time. Sometimes when I’m out with my friends, they make me feel bad about ordering just wine so I just lie and say that I’m drinking vodka when it’s only water in my glass. I’m just really good at pretending I’m drunk.”

“You’re goddamn Meryl Streep and Viola Davis combined when you act drunk, baby. I could use some pointers. I don’t always want to drink either but the boys…” Steve groans. “It’s always ‘Steve, chug down this beer’ and never ‘Steve, would you like some chamomile tea.’ I don’t drink tea but I just might start if someone offers me.”

“I’d offer you since you’re taking interest. Would you like me to make you some now?”

“Maybe later,” Steve curls his arms around you tight. “I like talking about being boring with you.”

“Yeah, I could be boring with you all the time. Like if I decided to crochet some shit for the hell of it, you wouldn’t judge.”

“Course I wouldn’t. I think you’d be the best crocheter ever and that’s saying a lot because there are a lot of great ones out there. I know this because I watched a youtube tutorial of crochet making…in full. I don’t plan to make a not one piece but I watched it anyway because I had time,” Steve shrugs. “And sometimes, even when I have plenty of time, I don’t always feel like styling my hair.”

You gasp, putting a hand to your chest. “Not the hair!”

“I can be too cool for cool.” He smiles smugly.

“I wanna wear a oversized clothes.” You rush out.

“You deserve it! I’ve seen the kind of clothes you’ve had to wear. Super tight. Not that it’s a bad thing, of course. I don’t always wanna dress in the latest fashion either.”

“I hate going to the beach nowadays. I get sand in all of my crevices and I end up finding sand around the house even weeks after.”

“I hate driving too fast.”

“I like gardening.”

“I like socks with sandals.”

“I’ve been leaning into buying those portraits with the words on them that say things like “home is where the heart is” or some corny thing like that”

“Eww, you mean the ‘live, laugh, love’ crap,” He laughs. “I’m sorry but we’re not that old.”

“Oh, please, I’m sure you’ve got worse.”

Steve thinks for a moment. “I guess I’ve always wanted to ask an employee if they’re working hard or hardly working.”

“Oh, nooo!” You cringe. “That’s horrible. Do you want them to hate you?”

“Alright, so I’m that kind of old, too.” He admits defeat.

“I think mom jeans aren’t as bad as everyone makes them to be.”

“I think dad jokes are the epitome of comedy and I’ve brushed up on some.”

“Ooo, tell me one!” You beam excitedly.

“Okay. What do you call a nose with no body?”

“What?”

“Nobody knows."

You both join in laughter which soon dies down when the gears in each of your heads began to turn. The two of you stare in space, speechless and reflective of the conversation.

“Although, it is a bit quiet,” You say, breaking the silence. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, too quiet.”

“Not boring, though.”

“No, not boring. It’s a good boring if it is. But it’s like…something’s missing. Like we’re forgetting something important.”

“Or someone important?”

“Some…ones…” Steve says in a reflective tone, then his eyes bug out and so do yours as you come to the same realization.

The two of you exchanged looks and simultaneously yell. “Our babies?!”

The two of you jump up from the couch and heading in any direction the two believed the boys were in. You checked the pantry, he checked in the bottom cabinets. He checked the in the boys closet, you checked underneath the bed.

“How could have forgotten about them for two hours?!” Steve exclaims. “We’re terrible people! They’re literally all the reasons why we’re so old and boring now so how can we have forgotten?!”

“They’ve handled themselves just fine alone, babe.” You say trying to comfort him.

“You and I both know that when it gets quiet it’s never a good sign. They’re like Max from Max and Ruby and you know how sociopathic that bunny could be. Little Baby Blue hasn’t barked in 2 hours either. What could they have possibly done to him?” Steve says while running his hands through his hair.

The sounds of giggling from the master bedroom is enough to shake you and Steve to your core. The boys were for sure in there and possibly doing something that will cost you a lot of money to repair.

“For all we know they’ve just created armagedon in there,” You say, darting your eyes between the bedroom door and Steve. “Whatever happens, whatever we see…we must prepare ourselves. Some things may be damaged beyond repair and most likely there will be a lot of cleaning up to do…but we mustn’t take out our anger on the children. They’re children who are simply practicing their exploration and discovery skills.”

“Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one who found your game console submerged in a toilet bowl,” He clutches his chest. “You don’t know my pain.”

You groan, hearing more laughter from the boys. “What do think it is this time? Paint on the walls? The forbidden mudpie cake? Fisher Price Guillotine?”

“I don’t know. That’s the terrifying part. They always come up with the darnedest things,” Steve holds out his hand. “Hold it please, I’m not ready for this horror show.”

You swallow hard, taking his hand. Opening the masters bedroom, you see the twins with their thumbs in their mouths watching Saturday cartoons on the large bed. Little Baby Blue is wedged between the boys, relaxing as they both pet him with their free hands. Their eyes immediately dart to the two of you standing in the doorway like you’d just interrupted a nice moment.

“Mommy.” Oslo smiles and runs up to you.

“Daddy!” Bear runs into Steve’s arms.

“My boys,” You say in relief. “Mommy and Daddy are so sorry for not checking on you. We were very, very tired.”

“Das kay, mommy,” Oslo says, snuggling into your tummy. “Blue’s here with us.”

“Blue even gave us some things to eat.” Bear points to one side of the bed which was full of snacks from the pantry.

“I was wonderful where the Oreos went.” Steve says.

You pet Blue. “That’s a good boy! Maybe next time go for the healthier options in the fridge.” The dog huff and you raise your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll cut you some slack. I know how hard it is watching two toddlers.”

“I’m going to whip us up some lunch and then we’ll go to the park for family fun day. How’s that sound, boys?” Steve says.

The boys jump up and down excitedly with Steve hyping up their mood. “Ok, but you have to go and get ready real quick. Think you two can do that like the big boys you are?”

“Yes!” They shout at once.

“Go on then after come down for the famous Harrington men’s sandwich.”

The boys run out of the room, Blur chasing after them.

You lean in to whisper to your husband, still in shock. “Everything’s neat. The boys were actually angels the entire day. Thanks to babysitter Blue.”

“I guess those two were having a relaxed day, too.” Steve quips.

Oslo enters the room, tugging your sweater. “Mommy, can you help me find my favorite sho”

“You mean the light up ones?”

Oslo nods and you take his hand, “Come on, we’ll look together.”

“Then, I’ll help Bear get dressed. We’re going to beat you guys!” Steve teases.

You all laugh enjoying the friendly competition. Although, you enjoyed the times where things get quiet. You couldn’t trade the moments of chaos and fun with your family for the world.

#steve harrington x reader imagine #steve harrington x reader #Steve harrington x you fluff #stranger things fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #dad!steve harrington #mom!reader #Steve harrington x fem!reader #joe keery fanfiction

501 notes · View notes

aita-blorbos · 6 days

Note

AITA for kicking my cousin out of our city? Kicking out is a strong term. I didn’t exile her or anything, I just - well, here’s the story from the beginning. My cousin-once-removed G (3263F) and I (2188M) were co-founders and co-rulers of this city. I don’t want to give undue credit to either of us - there were and are many others involved in the founding and governance of the place - but it’s fair to say that we two were the ringleaders. And we made a good team! We’re both very opinionated people, so of course there was sometimes tension, but overall I think our disagreements only made our decision-making stronger. That was until A (ageless, M) showed up. A is one of the lesser primordial beings who helped create the world. Necessary context: not long ago there was a catastrophic war between the most powerful of these beings, who was monstrously evil, and his more benevolent brethren. This war was absolutely necessary, but it did wreak havoc on the natural world. Myself and my cousin G and many others had to flee as refugees. When we founded our city, we wanted it to be a place of recovery from all that loss, somewhere that everyone could come together and flourish. The rulers of A’s people sent him to aid us in that. And his help has been invaluable! He’s shared knowledge that has already bettered our city and its people, and now we’re working on a project together that will let us heal so many of the world’s ancient hurts… but I digress. When A showed up, G took an immediate dislike to him. She has some history with the rulers of his folk, and I suppose that colored her opinion of him, but I’ve never seen that level of hostility from her before. She picked at everything he said, implied that he wasn’t trustworthy, even tried to tell me that we should send him away! She argued that since our people’s king had declined A’s help, we should too - which was ridiculous, our city has always made its own decisions, and anyhow our king hadn’t commanded us to do any such thing! Ordinarily G is very clear-headed and has excellent judgment, but in this case I just couldn’t get across to her that she was being unfair. When I was firm in my support of A, G started trying to drum up public animosity against him. Of course I opposed her, and as A had already made many friends in the city and is an excellent rhetorician to boot, G only succeeded in turning public opinion against herself. At city council meetings she continued to oppose A and his projects, but I stood with A, and the majority of the council followed my lead. G was essentially frozen out of the city’s governance - and I do regret that, truly, but she put herself in that position by refusing to work with me and A! Eventually G took the small faction that agreed with her and left the city. She told me my “doom was on my own head,” which was needlessly hostile, I think. And look, I fully believe that she believes she’s in the right. She’s a very principled person; she wouldn’t do all this for petty reasons. She’s just so wrong about A! I truly can’t think of anything else I could have done, but G’s been a blessing to this city and I’m really unhappy to have been part of the reason it lost her. Was there another way I should have handled this conflict? AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

59 notes · View notes

puppy-byun · 9 months

Text

Just Friends...unless...? pt. 1

pairing: Hyunjin x Reader / a sprinkle of Seonghwa x Reader

rating: 18+

word count: 8k

genre: smut / friends to lovers / angst / university au

warnings: drinking, curse words, Hyunjin (obv but like... there should be a warning at all times), heavy make-out, fingering, light nipple play, dirty-talk, pet names (just one rlly), public...indecencies don't do this irl, minors pls dni!!

summary: You weren’t crushing on Hyunjin. You couldn’t be crushing on Hyunjin because you were just friends, and there was no way he would ever feel the same way about you. Right? Unless...?

disclaimer: This has only been proof read by myself but hey! I’m back! This is angstier than most stuff I've written before I hope u guys enjoy it!

masterlist | next

There had been a time in your life when you had thought you were in love with Hyunjin. Not infatuation, not attraction, and not an incredibly intense college crush, no, but the kind of star crossed, life changing love that you thought you could never possibly get over. You hadn’t had a clue how right you would be about that.

And Hyunjn? He hadn’t had a clue about anything at all, because Hyunjin was a sweet, but he was just about as oblivious as he was caring.

In all fairness, you hadn’t tried to get him to realize that you were head over heels the first time you realized how fast he made your heart beat. You didn’t think that you would be able to handle the embarrassment of him finding out one of his closest friends had been harboring a crush on him, and even less so the possible follow up of rejection. So instead, you had gone through months of fearing that he would realize you had feelings for him. You had constantly been torn about being grateful he was so clueless and hoping despite better judgment that he would realize, and he would maybe reciprocate those feelings. It had been months until you had finally managed to snub out every last one of them, until you and Hyunjin were just friends.

Regardless of whether you were over those feelings or not, it did not stop your friends from endlessly teasing you about that period in your life. Apparently, you had been extremely obvious - according to them. It was just your luck that Hyunjin wouldn’t even consider his friend being in love with him, so even two years later he had no idea there had ever been a time when you had wished you would make his heart flutter the same way he did with yours.

You couldn’t fully blame your friends for teasing you about your feelings for Hyunjin. Neither could you blame them for not quite believing that those feelings were in the past - not when you were so comfortable with each other, it was easy to mistake you for anything but a couple. But even if that did happen a lot it didn’t bother you and it didn’t seem to bother Hyunjin either – because you were just friends.

You had your hands full with eight guys in your life and you definitely did not need or have time for a boyfriend on top of it, so you didn’t mind guys automatically backing off when they saw Hyunjin and you together. And in the three years you had known Hyunjin he had never seemed too interested in starting a relationship with anyone either.

Admittedly, you had tried not to pay any attention to what he was doing when you weren’t spending your time together, because part of your ‘Hyunjin-crush-extinction-program’ had been to decidedly keep your nose out of his private affairs. If he had hook-ups, you had successfully managed to not witness any of them. It wouldn’t have been difficult to avoid situations like this though, considering he was friendly, well-mannered, hard working, and just about the stereotype of the perfect, sweet boy next door. He was ambitious, chivalrous, you had never seen him treat anyone with even the slightest disrespect, and you had never heard him talk badly about anyone. It was unfair, really, that on top of having an amazing character he also looked flawless. Long hair tickling his ears and the tips brushing his shoulders, still soft despite the way he bleached it all blond just a few months ago. Straight eyebrows, dark eyes that crinkled at the edges whenever he laughed, holding a sparkle that made it impossible not to laugh with him. His nose an elegant slope and a cute tip you had desperately wanted to kiss back when you had thought yourself in love with him. And his mouth. His mouth had been the worst part, because the boy looked like an angel but his lips never promised anything but sin, plush and soft and just about the most perfect lips anyone could ever want to kiss.

No, you were definitely not thinking about Hyunjin’s lips now. Even if there’s no problem with a bit of kissing between friends, no strings attached, right?

You shook yourself out of those thoughts, shoving them at the very back of your mind right with the memories of what it felt like to be hopelessly in love with Hyunjin, because those were parts of your life you had left behind and were not ever bringing back to explore.

You were thankfully forced to focus on something else for good when a loud thump sounded next to you, gaze dropping to the table with a slight squeal. Felix and Minho had dumped a whole tray loaded with various assortments of drinks and, to your dismay, also shots, in the middle of the table, spilling some of them in the process and splattering everyone with drops of sticky alcohol.

“I thought we’re not getting shit-faced today? It’s only Wednesday…” You tutted with a raised eyebrow, finger pointing at the shots specifically.

“Oh these?” Minho raised one eyebrow with a cat-like grin. “These are for our heartbreakers, since they look like they need a good amount of liquid courage.”

Changbin, one of said heartbreakers Minho had just mentioned, only rolled his eyes, but Jisung immediately grabbed two small glasses of what was undoubtedly tequila, downing both of them unceremoniously, foregoing the lemon. You laughed at the display, shoving one of the shots in Changbin’s direction discreetly, because even though he was putting on a tough act you could tell he was nervous.

You were occupying your usual booth at your favorite campus bar, attending Karaoke Wednesday for the sole reason of Changbin and Jisung promising they would finally get up on that stage and impress the girls they had been eyeing for the better part of almost two months. It was almost ridiculous, how your entire group had become regulars on karaoke night solely because these two kept saying they would ‘finally make a move this time’ every single week - only to chicken out.

Jisung was already on his fourth shot, ready to grab the fifth one, when you gently put your hand on his arm to stop him. “I think you should maybe slow down or all you’ll be doing is throwing up on her skirt before you can even utter a word.” you cringed, hoping you didn’t jinx it with your words.

Seungmin and Minho both laughed at the likely image of that happening but Jisung slumped back on the seat, rolling his eyes.

“You’re seriously the worst wing-men, all of you!”

The other boys only laughed more and you patted his hand empathetically, leaning over Hyunjin who was sitting right next to you.

“It’s going to be fine, Jisung. You go up there and you impress her, and she’ll totally fall in love with you. I would fall in love with you, if I weren’t already friends with you.”

The lie went over your lips smoothly, not even cringing inwardly when this was very much not true. Being friends hadn’t stopped you from falling in love with Hyunjin, but that experience had also taught you that you would never again get into the messy business of crushing on someone in your friend group.

“I would trust her judgment, you know,” Hyunjin added, casually grabbing your hand from on top of Jisung’s and placing it back on your own lap so he could lean forward and look at the blue haired boy. “She’s got actual standards, so her compliment means something.”

His hand never left yours, keeping his own slender fingers lightly wrapped around yours, a gesture so casual and normal between you that no one would even bat an eye. You laughed at Hyunjin’s words, whacking him over the back of his head softly. “What do you mean I have standards, I’m friends with you guys.”

“Yes, exactly,” Minho added pointedly, completely ignoring your jab and sliding a drink in your direction which looked suspiciously colorful and like it would make your teeth stick together.

“Shush, I was giving you a compliment bunny.”

You grinned at Hyunjin cheekily, from over the rim of your glass, proud that once again the pet name barely made your skin tingle. He always used it with you, and there was absolutely nothing flirtatious or special about it. It used to make your head spin, and it only took just about two years for you to get used to it.

“So what’s the game plan for tonight?” Chan piped up, the question mainly oriented at Jisung and Changbin, who were the sole reason you had even gathered at the bar and accidentally made it a tradition to get drunk on a freaking weekday.

“Let me guess, same as every week?” Seungmin asked, barely containing an eye-roll. Jisung was still pouting but Changbin set his shot glass down with vigor, sitting up straighter and causing you to snort into your drink. Hyunjin was helpfully patting your back to prevent you from choking while you listened to Changbin declaring how he would for sure win over his crush tonight.

The pats on your back changed to gently rubs once your coughing had calmed down a little and you skirted closer, leaning your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder. The last singer had ended their horrible rendition of Billie Eilish’s ‘Bad Guy’ and they were calling for new daring participants. For all of Changbin’s talk both he and Jisung had gotten very quiet. The drinks Minho and Felix had steadily brought had at least done nothing if not encourage everyone else at the table that tonight really was the night, so you weren’t surprised when Chan jumped up from his spot, waving and hollering to get the bartender’s attention.

“We have two entries here!” he shouted, so loudly that the whole bar had heard for sure and there was no way for Jisung or Changbin to back out of this. Waving him over Chan got up and fished a USB out of his back pocket, deeply engrossed in conversation with the bartender now. You knew he was trying to convince him to let your friends perform their own tracks instead of singing karaoke, which were saved on said USB. Jisung had gotten worryingly pale throughout the last two minutes, but your friends knew no mercy for the boys. Seungmin was already almost forcefully shoving Changbin out of the seat, and Felix and Minho were pulling Jisung, who did his best to resist, up by his arms.

You couldn’t help but laugh throughout the whole display, turning to catch Hyunjin doing the same while watching them.

“You think they’re aware their crushes are most likely watching them right now?”

“Don’t let them know, Jisung will probably pass away on the spot.”

You bit back a snort, nodding in agreement and continued watching how Chan threw a thumbs up in your direction and a very dramatic gurgle left Jisung’s lips. He might actually be about to pass out.

Hyunjin’s hand slipped from between your shoulder blades to your lower back, reaching the expanse of skin peeking out between your top and skirt. You shivered, unable to suppress the sensation and immediately sent your mind into shut down. Even if this was technically a normal reaction, it wasn’t with Hyunjin. You could never allow this with Hyunjin, because if he ever came even close to thinking you had a crush on him you would dig yourself a hole and vanish in the ground forever.

Halfway through the path to the stage the boys seemed to realize that their crushes were indeed watching them and finally managed to get it together so Seungmin, Minho and Felix could stop forcefully dragging them towards the raised platform.

The bartender – Seokjin, who Chan knew because they had a couple of classes together, which was most likely how he got him to agree to play their original songs – announced that tonight the program would be a little different, and you caught yourself sitting up straighter. Hyunjin moved with you automatically, pulling you closer with the movement, but your full attention was on the stage now. After months it was finally happening. The first heavy tunes of the song you had heard countless times by now started, and you watched your friends fumble for the microphones, still visibly nervous. They had performed their own music many times for you guys, but never on a scale this big, in front of strangers, and even worse, in front of someone they wanted to impress. The first few lines were a bit unsteady, making you cringe inwardly and holler out a lout whoop of encouragement. Jisung’s eyes caught your table, seeing you give him two thumbs up in support, and when a grin settled on his face you felt relief flood your body. Changbin didn’t need as much encouragement, immediately at ease as soon as he heard his own music, and once they started rapping you knew they were about to impress everyone in the bar, not just their crushes. Even though you knew the songs by heart you found yourself captured by their performance as well. They were just naturally talented, their charisma flowing through every line they were spitting.

Hyunjin’s hand, which had stilled when he, too, had focused on the performance, picked back up on drawing soft patterns on the small of your back and his nose brushed your hair when he leaned in enough so you could understand him over the music.

“You’re not actually gonna fall in love with Jisung now, right?” He was clearly joking and you leaned back to look at him with a laugh, mirroring his expression.

“Why are you asking? Are you jealous, Jinnie?” Hyunjin rolled his eyes in response at your absurd question. Why would he be jealous or anything even remotely as ludicrous, when your friendship was rivaled by yours and Chan’s only, and he damn well knew that.

“Of Jisung? Hell no, it took him two months to go up on that stage and the girl he’s trying to impress doesn’t even know it’s her he’s flexing this hard for.”

Even if you agreed you lightly pinched Hyunjin’s arm to let him know he wasn’t being entirely fair. Confidence didn’t come as natural to everyone as it did to him.

“I just think he wouldn’t deserve you.” he added as an afterthought, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh?” you quipped, eyebrow raised because now you were intrigued. You could talk about almost everything with Hyunjin, but you hardly ever talked about something like this. For some reason your dating life (or lack thereof) was reserved for talks between you and anyone but Hyunjin, which you didn’t entirely mind. But now that it had come up, you were curious as to what he was trying to say. “And who would deserve me?”

Hyunjin opened his mouth only to close it again, the music filtering out in favor of a pregnant pause. He had successfully managed to capture your full attention, Jisung’s and Changbin’s performance, as good as it was, not as important as this conversation.

“No one of course.” Hyunjin finally deadpanned, as if it were the most obvious answer.

“No one…,” you repeated, a little incredulous. “So I’m just going to be single forever?”

Hyunjin shrugged, as if that was the obvious solution. “I suppose not. You’re going to settle for someone who doesn’t come close to the standards you’d deserve, and it’s going to be a tragedy.”

“Ah,” you supplied, your tone implying that, of course, how hadn’t you thought of that before? You let your eyes wander the room, settling on a guy halfway across with dark hair, a lean and tall figure and pretty beauty mark under his eye adorning his face.

“What about that one?” you nodded your head vaguely in his direction and Hyunjin followed your line of sight.

“Yugyeom?”

You rolled your eyes, raising an eyebrow at him. “How am I supposed to know? The one with the beauty mark.”

“Yeah, that’s Yugyeom. We share some classes, he’s a dance major.” He caught the wistful smile on your face, your eyes still locked on the other dancer rather than your friend, mentally jotting down his name while thinking that he definitely wouldn’t be a bad catch.

“Oh, hell no. I know what you’re thinking. He most certainly wouldn’t deserve you.” Hyunjin quickly grasped your chin softly but decisively, squishing your cheeks together and forcing your gaze back on him, confronted with your pout. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s a total fuckboy, you don’t want to get yourself into that mess.”

You hmphed, swiping your gaze in the other direction and away from Yugyeom. Instead, your eyes landed on a brown-haired boy who was sitting with a couple of friends, beer in hand and completely immersed in the music. He had a pretty, heart-shaped face, full cheeks and, oh god, dimples.

“What if I want the guy with the dimples? I think I’d want the guy with the dimples,” you decided, directing your question at Hyunjin, who apparently had become the judge of your hypothetical love life.

“Jaehyun, seriously?” Hyunjin’s exasperated tone was enough to tell you what he was thinking of that choice, but you decided to push it a little, just to tease him.

“Yeah, Jaehyun. I should go say hi.” Hyunjin’s hand, which had still been comfortably resting on your back, drawing distracting patterns from time to time, slipped around your waist, his fingers digging into your skin faster than you could react.

“Alright, alright, relax, I’m not going to do it. So he’s bad business?” Hyunjin relaxed his grasp only infinitesimal, as if he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t just jump up as soon as he let go.

“No, he’s actually a pretty fun guy. But I’ve seen his tongue down more girl’s throats in, like, barely a month, than I can count on my hands and toes. He’s football captain, too, so his life is pretty much sports and fucking. Unless that’s what you’re looking for…?”

“I guess not. Shame,” you commented, abandoning the idea of Jaehyun because he was clearly very far from your type. Your type being extremely hard to define because you had barely paid attention to boys other than the casual hookup throughout high school, and the only ever serious crush you had had been Hyunjin, with no other following after. There had been guys, but there hadn’t been anyone who managed to make your heart beat quite as fast as Hyunjin had.

The performance had long but ended by now, someone else already taking the stage, but the guys weren’t back yet, Chan stuck at the bar and engrossed in an animated conversation with Seokjin, who was severely disregarding every other customer. You had lost sight of Seungmin, Felix, Minho, Changbin and Jisung in the crowd so your booth was currently solely occupied by Hyunjin and you.

Letting your gaze glide over the crowd once again, mostly just to see if you could spot any of your friends, they instead landed on a head of white blonde hair, surely long enough to brush over the tips of the boys ears if he hadn’t slicked it back, showing off his undercut and sharp jawline. Oh, you knew that boy. It was true that only ever Hyunjin got your heart to beat fast, but you would lie to say there weren’t other boys who got you excited in other ways – Park Seonghwa right at the very top of that list. He was lounging on the backrest of a worn leather sofa, his back leant against the wall, legs spreading impossibly wide, as if he had no intention of making room for anyone else (he probably didn’t).

Hyunjin clearly had caught onto your not so subtle staring, because his next words were more exasperated than they had been at any other suggestion so far.

“Park Seonghwa?!”

You quickly glanced at your friend with a sheepish smile, before turning your gaze back to the white blond boy, resting your arm on the back of your seat and your chin atop of it.

“Yeah, Seonghwa is hot.”

“God, I take back everything I said about you having standards.” Hyunjin groaned next to you, but it wasn’t enough to pull your gaze away from the other boy. Everyone and their mum knew who Seonghwa was, campus heartthrob extraordinaire, with just the right amount of bad boy flair to make every girl positively drool. Now, you knew you didn’t stand a chance with him, just the way you had known that you didn’t stand a chance with Hyunjin. Guys that pretty were just way above your level, despite what Hyunjin said.

It wasn’t that you were unpopular per se, because hanging with one of the most infamous friend groups on campus had definitely gotten you a certain amount of popularity yourself. It had happened by accident, really, because Chan’s parents had moved in next door in elementary school, making you walking buddies on your way to school every single day for years, forcing Chan to befriend you. It could have ended after Chan had already entered high school and gained quite a bit of a reputation when you finally left elementary school behind to join him. But it didn’t. For some unfathomable reason he had decided that there was no one cooler at school than you, spending every lunch break and free period in your company, dragging you along and introducing you to all of his friends. Slowly but steadily your group had grown, Seungmin, Changbin and Jisung joining first, and then, one by one, Minho, Felix, Hyunjin and Jeongin. All of them had been semi-popular for their talents and charms even by themselves, but as a group they were one of those cliques that everyone wanted to be a part of just once. And somehow, through all of it, you had ended up as Chan’s number one.

Anyhow, all of that meant that you weren’t exactly unpopular, but nowhere near the level where you presumed you could pull someone like Park Seonghwa, just like you hadn’t presumed you could pull someone like Hyunjin, even if you had already been friends at that point.

“Are you even listening to me?” Hyunjin quipped impatiently, poking your side and you had, indeed, not been listening.

“Repeat it for me?”

You clearly heard his annoyed grumble, causing you to grin, although not in Hyunjin’s direction but in Seonghwa’s instead, who exactly at that moment seemed to have sensed that someone was staring at him and caught your gaze.

“I said I don’t—” The words didn’t filter through to you because Seonghwa was running a hand through his hair, one eyebrow raised in challenge, and you thought you might die on the spot. He couldn’t possibly mean you, could he? It felt like the longest staring match possible, even though it was probably only seconds before Seonghwa nodded his head towards the door and even through your disbelief you were ready to jump up and leave. But you were stopped when someone scooted right next to you, successfully ripping your gaze away from Seonghwa and pressing you closer to Hyunjin. It was Minho, decidedly more drunk than before, and when you snapped your head back around to Seonghwa you knew you’d missed your chance because he was already engrossed in a conversation with one of his friends.

With a wistful sigh you turned back around and the first thing you noticed were the two empty cups in front of Hyunjin that hadn’t been there minutes ago, which meant he had downed them in the short time you had spent eye-fucking Seonghwa.

“Care to explain what exactly you’re planning, don’t you have morning class?” You questioned the boy with concern, knowing that usually he held back because he took his dancing very seriously.

“What if I do?” Hyunjin just grunted snappily, reaching over the table to steal Felix’ drink while the blonde boy wasn’t looking.

You made a sour face at him, not knowing what had suddenly gotten into him and deciding that if he wanted to do something he would regret tomorrow you wouldn’t stop him if that’s the attitude he was giving you. Instead, you focused on Jisung, who had accumulated about four table’s worth of coasters and had started building a ginormous house upon his return. He wasn’t very successful at it, most likely because you could tell by his droopy gaze that he was very drunk.

“How did it go?” You inquired nosily, directing the question at everyone at the table who had clearly paid more attention to Jisung’s attempts of conquest than Hyunjin and you had.

“Did you know that in kindergarten they called me the ‘god of crafting’?” Jisung instead slurred, causing you to look at him as if to ask ‘what the fuck’ while everyone else was tipsy enough to deem this a perfectly acceptable answer. Felix even patted his back (which caused the coaster house to crumble) to congratulate him on his title.

You groaned in frustration, noticing how Hyunjin had emptied Felix’ cup as well now, only adding to your irritation.

“With the girl, Jisung, how did it go with the girl?” Jisung didn’t reply, intently focused on building his coaster house and mainly on ignoring you, so you turned helplessly to the other guys, question marks written all over your face. Felix was shaking his head as if to signal that it wasn’t a good topic to talk about but Minho wasn’t quite as sensitive.

“She didn’t like your lyrics? What was it she hated? ‘Excuse me noona, do you have a boyfriend?’” Minho was cackling in the ugliest way possible, causing half the table to almost spit out their drink against better judgement.

“I didn’t even talk to her!” Jisung instead ground out, throwing his head on the table with a thunk that resonated loudly and must have hurt, shaking the whole coaster house he’d built to the ground again.

“What do you mean you didn’t talk to her?”

“I chickened out okay!” He whined, voice muffled against the tabletop and the whole table groaned in unison at the hopelessness of it all.

“What about Changbin?” Hyunjin asked next to you, voice way friendlier than it had been seconds ago when he had talked to you. You decided not to be sour about whatever had gotten into him, because the hangover he would have tomorrow would be karmic energy enough.

“Judge for yourself,” Seungmin commented with a grimace, pointing a thumb over his back and you followed the direction he was pointing, catching sight of a couple pressed up against the wall next to the bar. The others were clearly looking at them too, Seungmin’s grimace not warning enough.

“Oh my god, is he for real?” You gasped, your grimace now matching Seungmin’s at how Changbin’s hands where clearly up the girls skirt right there, no doubt groping her butt.

“Well, he’s still faring better than me,” Jisung commented dryly, and you felt so sorry for the boy you couldn’t even laugh when he knocked his coasters down again.

“That reminds me, a girl asked me earlier if you and Hyunjin were dating,” Felix threw in, looking between the two of you and despite Hyunjin’s suddenly sour mood you couldn’t bite back a grin.

“Which one?” You inquired, curious who had been checking him out. Felix quickly scanned the crowd before finding who he was looking for, unashamedly pointing at her. Your eyes followed, quickly recognizing her from one of your classes. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but feel a short sting in your chest because if she was interested in Hyunjin her chances were definitely better than yours had been.

“That’s Chaeyoung,” you explained, managing to keep your voice stable and enthusiastic. “She’s in my Thursday afternoon course, total cutie. You should talk to her Hyunjin.”

“Why are you trying to set me up again?” Hyunjin only asked, not even bothering to grant Chaeyoung a single glance. It was true, you had made it a habit to try and set him up with someone back when you had desperately been trying to overcome your crush, thinking it would be easier if he were taken. Over time it had simply become a tradition you hadn’t really dropped since then.

“I don’t know? I’ve never really seen you hook up with anyone, I just don’t want you to combust at some point.”

“I haven’t seen you hooking up either,” He pointed out and you didn’t really know what to say to that, so you decided to ignore it. He had a point, but the reasons for that were not something you wanted to tell him, of all people.

“Chaeyoung’s a really nice girl and she’s gorgeous, if she’s really interested in you I think-“ you stopped mid-sentence, the words dying on your lips when Hyunjin’s hand unceremoniously slipped onto your exposed thigh. The conversation had apparently been drowned under the music because no one commented on how you never ended your sentence, mouth hanging open like an idiot before you caught yourself. Hyunjin was always touchy when he was drunk, and he was definitely drunk after he had rushed down three cups in a matter of minutes. There was nothing more behind this than him wanting you to stop trying to set him up.

“Someone should really stop Changbin.”

Everyone made the mistake of looking over to your friend again at Seungmin’s words, cringing even more at how the girl already had one leg wrapped around his waist, basically letting him grind into her against the wall.

Seungmin’s prompt evolved into a discussion of who would be the unlucky one to break them up and you were grateful no one was suggesting you. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t quite ignore Hyunjin’s hand, his fingers annoyingly soft on your skin. And, fuck, you weren’t sure if he was even aware but they were brushing the inside of your thigh, ghosting over sensitive skin. He couldn’t possibly be doing this on purpose. Why would he be?

You barely caught that Felix had been the unlucky one who was designated to kick Changbin’s ass and tell him to go somewhere at least a little more private.

“Thank fuck we didn’t bring Jeongin today,” You threw into the round, mostly just to save face and pretend you weren’t fighting with all you got not to clench your thighs together when Hyunjin dragged his nails up the inside of your thigh, stopping only when he ever so slightly dipped under the hem of your skirt. He had to be doing this on purpose.

“I mean, I’m glad he’s getting some, but damn, we’re too good at our own job, this is self-sabotaging,” Minho stated, blatantly ignoring that you had failed big time as wing-men when it came to Jisung, while you barely had to do anything for Changbin.

You chuckled, proud that your laugh didn’t hitch at the consistent movement of Hyunjin’s hand. What the fuck was he doing? You had half a mind to ask him, but you deemed it too embarrassing if he really wasn’t doing this on purpose and you called him out on subconsciously getting you all riled up. He’s always touchy when he’s drunk. He’s always touchy. It was better than him being pissy at any rate.

“Can someone take me home, I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jisung moaned from where he was resting his forehead on his arms, half hanging off the table, and you weren’t sure if he was drunk or close to crying, but either way it would be better if he got back to his dorm right about now.

Minho and Seungmin both got up with a sigh, hooking their arms under his to pull him up.

“You guys gonna be fine?” Seungmin, the only somewhat sober one asked and you were cut short before you could even reply.

“I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” Hyunjin immediately supplied and you didn’t want to point out with the way he was slurring you would be the one taking him home safely. It wouldn’t be the first time you walked home together, either one or both of you drunk, so Seungmin and Minho accepted gratefully and focused back on pulling Jisung up with them.

“Now where’s Cha-“

“How can you be so unaffected?”

You turned to Hyunjin, not quite understanding what he was getting at but giving up your search for Chan immediately. He hadn’t been super drunk when you’d last seen him, and even if, he was a big boy and could get home by himself just fine.

“What do you mean?” You asked dumbly instead, and in place of a reply Hyunjin’s hand slipped lower between your thighs, thumb now brushing the inside too.

“You know what I mean.”

You weren’t sure if it was because he was drunk but his voice was raspy. So obviously, you did the only thing you could think of and started giggling in panic, successfully killing the moment that you weren’t sure had even been one. If it left Hyunjin utterly confused he didn’t say so, instead pulling his hand away from your thigh, finally giving you enough focus to breathe again.

“Do you still want to look for Chan?”

You shook your head, instead grabbing onto his arm and pulling him towards the exit, struggling when you noticed just how much he was staggering.

“Jesus Christ, you’re drunk. Let’s just get you home, alright?” You sighed, swiping his hair out of his eyes and patting his shoulder when he almost hooked his foot in the doorframe and fell.

“M’not drunk,” Hyunjin muttered, burying his face in your shoulder and hanging onto your arm with almost his full weight and that’s when you knew that the fresh air had kicked in. Sighing, you shifted your weight best as you could and continued staggering down the empty road down campus towards Hyunjin’s shared dorm with Seungmin, Minho and Felix, hoping that one of them would be home already and would let you in.

Deciding to push your luck a little you slowed your walk, taking a breath of fresh air before deciding that Hyunjin wouldn’t remember this conversation tomorrow, so if there was ever a chance to ask it would be right now.

“Why did you act so pissy earlier when we were joking around?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you echoed his words from earlier, but with an entirely different meaning. Silence settled over you, leaving only your steps, dragging under Hyunjin’s weight, and his heavier ones to sound in the empty area. He wasn’t going to answer, so you decided to shortly let go of him in retaliation. You immediately regretted that choice when he only clamped down on you harder and almost caused both of you to fall.

Readjusting your grip you continued shuffling down the road, deciding to give it another try.

“Why did you decide to get shit-faced, knowing damn well you will regret this tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

You huffed in annoyance at how he made the p of the word pop loudly, but decidedly did not give you an answer. You were growing increasingly frustrated.

“Why do you always act so uninterested when I try to set you up with nice girls?”

“Not gonna answer.”

“Okay, then riddle me this, why the fuck did you feel me up in the middle of the bar with Minho literally right next to me?” Frustration was audibly laced through your voice now, with how uncooperative he was being, but he caught you off guard when instead of replying he simply stopped in his tracks, taking a deep breath and then walked straight to the bench at the side of the street, sitting down heavily. You were left standing by yourself, looking at him questioningly.

“Come here.”

You stood rooted on the street, dumbfounded for another moment what he was getting at, before you took a couple of steps towards him, heavy with hesitant confusion, ready to settle down on the empty spot on the bench. Instead Hyunjin grasped your wrist and pulled you off balance, causing you to stumble. It didn’t matter if you tried to catch your fall because Hyunjin had other plans, his other hand catching your thigh and pulling you down on his lap.

“What are you-?”

The rest of your words was swallowed by his lips on your mouth. You felt almost as if you were caught in some type of twisted deja-vu, because this had happened so many times in your mind. But while you had dreamed of kissing Hyunjin, it had never gone down quite like this, and it hadn’t felt like this either. This was needy, carnal. Your legs were splayed on either side of his, skirt naturally hitched up, and his hands were on your cheeks, cupping your face, fingers digging into your skin as if he was scared you’d move away if he didn’t hold on to you. You were way too shocked to do anything, even if he weren’t making sure your lips stayed on his. You couldn’t even react, not until he took your bottom lip between his and bit down, eliciting a gasp from you that was somewhere between surprise and almost whining. His tongue followed, soothing the bite, and that’s when your brain shut down and you whimpered, hands slipping into his hair. It was soft, it always was, but this was different, because when you dragged your nails over his scalp, getting stuck in a tangle of his hair he groaned and you swallowed the sound. It sent warmth straight to your stomach. His hands slipped, from cradling your face to cupping the back of your neck, and you welcomed the added pressure, the way he meshed your lips together so desperately. You whimpered again, a little whinier, a little needier, and it was all Hyunjin needed to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like alcohol, but he also tasted like him, and you thought you couldn’t possibly get enough. Hyunjin’s other hand was everywhere at once, running up your legs, scratching your thighs until you were gasping into his kisses. It was messy, your mouth wet and your lips kiss-swollen and you couldn’t stop touching him either, savoring the way the slightest touches made him react.

Leaning back slightly, just enough to catch your breath, another whimper slipped over your lips when you caught his gaze, dark eyes looking into yours so greedily you wanted nothing more than for him to wreck you.

“What are we doing, Hyunjin?” you whispered, and even that seemed inappropriately loud for the eerie silence of the campus road.

“Whatever you want bunny. Whatever makes you feel good, just tell me.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to gather your thoughts because he had never, never, talked to you like this before and it was causing heat to pool right between your legs. Even just the thought of him fucking you until you couldn’t think straight made you clench around nothing, regretting that he wasn’t doing so already.

“But why are we-?”

He shut you up with another kiss, going straight to sucking on your bottom lip, his tongue adding to the pleasure. Your eyes fluttered shut, questions dying down again. He was moving from your lips to your jaw and then to your neck, leaving a wet trail. He wasn’t even close to leaving a hickey, his bites too soft and too quick, doing nothing but to add to the tingle of anticipation running down your skin. You felt his hands move down your arms, almost hoping they would settle on your ass but he stopped just short of the hem of your shirt, running a fingertip along it until you were shivering. You felt him smile against your skin in between kisses, before his fingers settled on grasping onto the upper edge of your top, slipping down the strap and pulling until it left the soft flesh of your tits exposed. You had half a mind to stop him, thinking your bra would go next, the sheer lace doing very little to cover your hard nipples anyways, but instead he bit down, all softness from earlier gone. You gasped, loud this time, the sound turning into a moan when his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking hard enough you could feel every movement of his mouth even through the lace. His tongue was swirling around your nipple, causing your breath to become erratic and your hands to clench in his hair, so hard he was groaning against your skin again.

“Hyunjin since when-?” You didn’t need to finish your sentence, but you immediately regretted even attempting to talk when his lips detached from your nipple, the spit-soaked material of your bra a cold contrast in the night air.

“I always tell you how pretty you are.” It wasn’t an explanation by any means but his mouth was still busy ghosting over your skin, his other hand now coming to slip under your bra, fingertip drawing over your nipple so deliciously it almost made you forget the questions you were burning to have answers to.

“You call everyone pretty, so why are we, shit, god you’re good-“ It took a few moments for you to collect yourself again, breath agitated and the heat between your thighs impossible to ignore while Hyunjin’s mouth had settled on your nipple again. His hands had finally dropped to your ass. He was pressing you down on his crotch and you had lost all capability to speak when his hard dick pressed against your wet underwear. Holy fuck, no matter what his motivations were he clearly wanted you right now.

“-why am I dry humping your dick on a park bench, you don’t get hard for all your friends, do you?”

„Nope.“

Again he let the p pop, but this time he accentuated the sound with a lazy grin, because despite your protests you were rolling your hips just the way he wanted you to, grinding yourself on his hard dick. Your underwear was sticking to your center, no doubt covering his pants in your juices already and the thought of it only made you wetter. “Your skirt looked so cute today, I really wanted you to ride me.”

You didn’t deem it necessary to mention that you had worn this skirt many times before and it had not ended up with him telling you he wanted his dick inside you. Not when he was swiping his fingers over your wet panties, groaning at the slickness between your legs. “I wanna go down on you so badly bunny, I’d love to make you cum all over my tongue.”

You could only whimper, no coherent words forming in your mind because he had swiped your slick underwear to the side, his finger now slipping through your wet lips. There was something about the fact that he was still holding onto your ass, pressing you close enough that he could reach your drenched folds from behind that made your head swim with pleasure. He had rushed his kisses before, but he was not rushing this, running his fingers from your clit down to your entrance slowly. He kept spreading you open, making sure to coat his fingers to his knuckles in your wetness. It was lewd, night air kissing your exposed skin while he was brushing his fingers over your slickness until you were shaking from just that.

You dropped your face to the crook of his neck, your moan muffled by his skin when he finally sunk two fingers into you up to his knuckles. He stilled, enjoying the feeling of you clenching around him while your fingernails dug into his skin, surely leaving marks even through his shirt.

When you started grinding your hips slightly, trying to get some friction and fuck yourself on his fingers because he wasn’t moving his other hand came up to your waist, stopping your movement.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna make you feel good, let me do this.”

You could only nod, hoping he could feel the confirmation, accepting that you’d behave if only he would finally do something. You were rewarded with a crook of his fingers you felt right at that sweet spot that had you arch your back.

“Right there, Hyunjin, do that again please.”

“That felt good?” He drawled, purposely crooking his fingers again, harder this time, and your moan was so breathy you felt dizzy. He finally motioned for you to move, lifting your hips so he could slip his fingers out before he fully sank them into you again, repeating the motion until you were bouncing on his lap, skirt bunched in his free hand and hitched up so high there was no way it covered anything. Eyes fluttering open to look at Hyunjin you knew you were right because he was mesmerized by the way your lips swallowed up his fingers, wet sounds every time you lowered yourself down on his hand.

“You’re doing so well, think you can come like that for me bunny?”

“Yes, god- fuck, yes-“

You were a stuttering mess, your words barely intelligible when Hyunjin picked up the pace, pushing his fingers into you at an angle that hit your most sensitive spot every time. It didn’t take long to have you seeing stars, your orgasm a tight curl in your stomach. Pressing his face to your tits again it only took one more harsh suck on your nipple and the knot unfurled, your walls clenching as you came hard on his fingers. Your orgasm was causing your body to be wrecked with shivers, his name falling over your lips like a mantra until your throat felt sore. His fingers were still inside you when you slumped against him, his free hand cradling your head, letting it rest on your shoulder.

“The fuck did we just do, Hyunjin?” You mumbled, uncertainty lacing through your post orgasm haze. You were far from calmed down, body still tingling from head to toes, a shiver running down your spine every time he moved his fingers inside you just the slightest bit, but with it came another realization.

Your crush on Hyunjin wasn’t gone. Possibly had never left, and now that he’d made you come on his fingers it was crashing over you like a tidal wave. You needed this to mean something because if it didn’t you were almost sure there was no way you could get over it.

“I don’t know about you, but fingering you in that cute little skirt was definitely on my bucket list for tonight.”

His words were still slurred. God, how had you managed to completely ignore that slur once he kissed you? He was drunk and you let him finger you in public because he was horny. His god damn bucket list for the night. Were you ranked lower or higher than getting shit faced in a cheap campus bar?

Anger was welling up in your chest - at yourself for being so stupid, for thinking you were over him, and at Hyunjin for making you a drunk fuck and disregarding over two years of friendship.

It wasn’t fair, because it happened, friends casually fucked, and he couldn’t have possibly known it would hurt you. You couldn’t have known either, but now it was too late. The squelching sound resonating in the silence when you lifted yourself off his lap made you cringe and you couldn’t smooth out your skirt and step away fast enough. Your shirt was wet with his spit, and you could feel him all over your body, which only made everything all that much worse.

“So, we’re done here now and that’s that.”

It was supposed to be a question, but even to your ears it sounded more like a statement, and you were almost grateful. A question could’ve meant that you wanted more. You didn’t want him to know before, and he certainly couldn’t know now.

For a short moment Hyunjin was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher before he carelessly wiped his fingers on his pants, completely ignoring the awfully visible tent from his straining dick.

“Want me to walk you home?”

You bit your lip in order to stop yourself from crying out in frustration. Who was this person, and where had your best friend gone? Hyunjin cared, he always did, so could he not tell how you were clearly struggling, how you were barely keeping it together while he completely shut himself off from you emotionally? You would not lose this friendship because of one stupid mistake.

“Yeah, please.”

#hyunjin #Hyunjin smut #Hwang hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids smut #enjoyyyyy

166 notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Text

Running From The Flames {Epilogue 1/2}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: parenting - that should be a warning lmao, sexual themes

F1 Masterlist || Previous Chapter - Epilogue 2/2

There was only one word to describe my life and that word was: chaotic. That being said, I still wouldn’t change it for the world.

The family calendar on the fridge was completely full and colour coded so we could all see where we were needed on any given day. Even so, I still lost track of my husband or our kids at least once a week.

“Sydney, honey, have you seen your father?” I asked the spitting image of Pierre who was in the race simulator. He was always in the machine, practising for his upcoming debut into Formula 4 now that he had turned 15 and could move up from karting.

“Picking up Addie from the airport.” He barely looked away from the triplet of screens in front of him as he answered with all the attitude of a teenage boy being interrupted in life. “It’s on the fridge.”

I looked at the calendar and realised I was looking at the completely wrong day. “Shit.”

“Ha,” he laughed loudly as he navigated the virtual track of the Red Bull Ring. “You forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” I said as I scanned over the correct day and saw I had a board meeting to prepare for tomorrow. “I just thought it was Tuesday today.”

“Whatever you say, maman. You can tell me I’m your favourite, I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t have a favourite, I love you all equally. Now, can you finish that game and go do your homework? You still need to pack your bag for the weekend too.”

Addie was coming home from London for the week, taking a little break from her own busy schedule, to watch Sydney’s first race with us in Austria.

It had been difficult to let her leave home at 18 but she had worked hard to get a place in the Arsenal Women’s Under 21 team. I had left home at the same age and Pierre had left even earlier, so we were hardly the exemplary figures to deny her. All we could do was make sure she stayed safe and she knew she could call either of us 24/7 if she needed help. It was also never that long between visits, making plenty of stopovers in England as we travelled.

The travelling for work was tiresome but so far we had yet to miss a football match on Saturday or a karting race on Sunday. It did help being our own bosses so Pierre and I could manage our schedule around the kids. He had been running Strauss Fashion for the better part of the last ten years, after Granny finally retired properly, while I had been the Chief Technical Officer at Alpine, which Grandpa had purchased.

When Harry passed away three years ago I found myself suddenly thrust into the ownership of the team and though there were plenty of offers to sell it, I decided to take the leap of faith and see where the journey would take me. I hadn’t looked back and so far we had two Constructors' Championship wins with our seasoned pilots, Gabriele Minì and Oliver Bearman.

We had come so far, it was hard to believe until I saw the wisps of grey hairs among the dark strands.

“Maman!” I was pulled from my reminiscence and looked at my watch to realise how quickly the afternoon had gotten away from me as Clare bounded through the front door and leapt into my arms. “Maman, look!”

Clare had been a wonderful surprise that completed our family two years ago. After Sydney’s unexpected and frightening early arrival Pierre had been reluctant to try for another child, though he had always wanted three. I thought maybe he would change his mind after the terrifying memory faded with time but then a few years passed, we both got caught up in work, and after that it seemed too hard to imagine returning to sleepless nights with a newborn.

But, the universe had other plans for us. What I thought was a long-enduring hangover, after celebrating the rebranding of Alpine into Gasly Racing, actually turned out to be morning sickness. Those final weeks before her birth were stressful enough to send Pierre to his doctor for a vasectomy but thankfully her arrival went exactly to plan and he could breathe calmly once again.

“Hello my Clare-bear, wow, you have another bracelet.” You quirked an eyebrow at Charles as he arrived with Clare’s backpack on his shoulder and her spare carseat under his arm. “Uncle Charles has absolutely spoiled you.”

“Of course. A princess deserves it,” he stated proudly as he placed her belongings down and nodded his head to the simulator. “Is he all ready for the big day?”

“He is, I’m not sure I am,” I admitted as I put Clare down and she immediately went to interrupt Sydney by climbing onto his lap mid-race. If it was anyone else they would have received an earful but he just paused the game and listened as she told him all about her day at Uncle Charles’ house. “God help me when he gets to Formula One, I think I’ll have to revert the car back to a slower predecessor for my own sanity.”

Charles laughed but I wasn’t completely joking. The cars were so much faster than they were when he and PIerre raced. Though the safety features improved along with the technology that made them rockets on wheels it was still difficult to imagine putting my little boy inside one and sending it off.

“You could keep him as a reserve driver,” Charles offered before shaking his head at the thought and taking a seat at the kitchen island. “But he’s stubborn like his father, he’d just find another team to race for.”

“No way, I can at least trust my own team to keep him safe. Same goes for Marc.”

Charles chuckled at the mention of his son who at 8 years old he was already a junior karting champion. “He said someone called him Il Predestinato after his race last weekend.”

“Yikes, I’m sure they meant it in a good way.”

The front door opened again and Addie blew in with all the gusto of a tornado, whipping around the rooms to greet everyone before she was up the stairs to her old room. Entering a little more sedately was my husband, his arms laden with more suitcases than anyone needed for a week away, especially when she still had a wardrobe full of clothes upstairs.

“You are lucky you only have sons,” Pierre said to Charles as he kicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t work out enough anymore to be carrying this shit.”

He dropped the suitcases in front of the elevator and hit the call button rather than carrying them up the stairs before pushing them inside as the door opened. After a few bad winters, where not even the central heating could keep the aches of my bones at bay, Pierre had made the call for the elevator to be installed and it had been a godsend in moments like this when heavy items needed to make it to the floors above.

Sticking his head up the staircase he called out, “Addie, your entire life and everything but the kitchen sink is heading your way.”

“Thanks, dad!”

“What was that about?” I asked after he joined us in the kitchen while the coffee machine churned out our usual drinks. “I thought she outgrew the ‘I’m too cool to hangout with my parents’ phase.”

Pierre's lips pressed together and he took a seat next to Charles, picking up Clare who had left Sydney to return to his practice. “Elias.”

“Vettel?” Charles asked, his eyebrows lifting when Pierre nodded and pushed his mug away so Clare couldn’t reach the hot liquid.

“They have been out on a few dates, apparently. I’ll have to ask Davis about it, assuming he went with them, it’s not like it’s his job or anything. Did you know that?”

I shook my head at the news, cradling my mug in my hands as I leaned against the bench and wondered if she had ditched her bodyguard once again. “He’s a sweet boy from what I remember, much like his father.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t care who his dad is,” Pierre grumbled before repeating, “You are so lucky you only have sons, mate. Teenage girls are stressful.”

“Ah, but I have two boys who think it is funny to have a competition to see who can fart the loudest,” Charles said as he took a sip of his drink.

“I mean, that’s kind of funny,” Pierre said with a smirk.

Charles sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. “Not when one always pushes too hard to win.”

The sip I was taking went the wrong way and I spluttered as Pierre laughed, “It’s all shits and giggles, until someone giggles and shits.”

“To think my poor mother went through this too. Drives me insane, mate. Bet you’ve never had to worry about that?”

“Thankfully, no,” I answered after recovering from choking on coffee. “But it also wasn’t bad enough to stop you from having another.”

“And on that note, I should get going. Mia won’t let me back in the house if I don’t pick up her favourite carbonara on the way home.” He smiled as he thought of his wife’s pregnancy cravings. It was the same one she had when she was carrying Marc and Antonio so it came as no surprise at the gender reveal when the backyard was splattered with blue confetti. “Thank you for letting me borrow Clare.”

“Any time,” Pierre chuckled as he clapped his friend on the back. Charles had been busy reinstalling all the baby gates and safety locks in his home, despite the baby boy not even being born yet, and wanted a toddler to help test his craftsmanship. “I won’t complain about a little free babysitting.”

Charles placed his empty mug in the sink and before kissing the top of Clare’s thick wavy hair. “Bye petite chérie, I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye Uncle Charles,” she said with a wave, but it sounded more like Unk Cha and made him laugh as he approached the simulator.

I saw Sydney pause the race and Charles crouched down beside him, sharing a few quiet words of encouragement for the upcoming debut race. I couldn’t help feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many supportive people and my smile grew as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist.

I turned to meet his lips over my shoulder and the magnetism that attracted us was still evident even after 17 years. Of course, like any relationship, there had been times when stress led to arguments and I would find him hours later in a spare bed, wide awake because he couldn’t sleep without me beside him. Those fights never lasted long enough to even remember what they were about and forgiveness came easy.

I turned in my husband’s arms and draped mine around his neck to admire him. Pierre was truly like a fine wine. Age had made him even more handsome and the small wrinkles at the corners of his lips and eyes were a testament to a life that was full of smiles and laughter.

“Addie said she’ll watch the kids tonight,” Pierre whispered in my ear as he gently swayed to the melodic tune of his voice and I hummed with contentment. “And I got us a table at L'Ambroisie. You’ve been working so hard I thought we could do with a night away, just the two of us.”

“You think I don’t know your game, baby,” I whispered back, all too aware Charles was still chatting with Sydney and imparting some real world advice. “Wine and dine, pretty words, a hotel room. There’s only one thing you want.”

His lips curled into a smile against my cheek. “You know me too well.”

“You would actually get a full night’s sleep if you put your foot down.”

Pierre looked over at Clare who had helped herself to a banana from the fruit bowl and as if sensing she had been caught she looked up with an innocent smile. “How can I tell her no when she looks like that?”

“Mhmm, and that’s why she keeps climbing into our bed. You are a big softy.”

His smirk was flirty and fun as his arms tightened around me, pulling our bodies flush together. His breath was hot on my neck as he hid his face in the curtain of my hair. “Not tonight, ma femme. Tonight you will see just how hard I can be.”

Pierre backed up with a smirk but not before he sucked at the sensitive skin above my racing pulse. He knew exactly what he was doing and the smugness showed as he whistled a little tune on his way to help Clare peel the banana.

Shaking my head, I made my way to the stairs and said goodbye to Charles with the message to remind Mia that our plans for a spa day had been booked - but that didn’t mean he could slack off from the ankle massages he was giving her each night. He gave an amused salut but I didn’t see it as I pressed the button for the elevator. He was well used to the reminders by now, it wasn’t his first rodeo.

Knowing my evening plans had changed I went to my office and shut the door to silence the music drifting down the hall from Addie’s room. As CEO of Gasly Racing there was an endless stream of paperwork to be checked and signed, especially with the new expansion plan for the factory about to break ground. On top of that were the invites to attend fundraisers or speeches to prepare for the various charities I was ambassador for such as Women's Refuge.

When I finally emerged with my inbox up to date I could hear the laughter of all my children from where they lounged in front of the tv and the sound never ceased to make me smile. I had missed the sound since Addie moved out because it was rare to have all five of us here at the same time and I was reluctant to leave even for just one night when it came time to pack an overnight bag.

“We are allowed one night away, mon amour,” Pierre said as he stepped into the master bedroom to see me hesitating to step inside the wardrobe. “You and me, no interruptions.”

I relaxed into his embrace and sighed as he brushed my hair over one shoulder before kissing my collar. “And what were you planning that was so important it couldn’t be interrupted?”

His chuckle sent a shiver of delight down my spine and his fingers trailed down my ribs to the hem of my shirt before they slipped underneath the material to caress the soft skin over my stomach. I had to take a shaky breath when his thumbs caught the waistband of my skirt and I held it as I waited for them to hook underneath.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear and my lips parted in anticipation of his dirty words. “To sleep.”

“Huh?” I blinked twice, peeking over my shoulder to see his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

“To sleep. Why, what were you thinking?” He tried to look innocent but when he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and his hand slipped down beneath my skirt he let the truth show. “Did you want me to tell you how I am dying for a taste of you? How I can’t wait to have these sexy legs wrapped around me when I make love to you tonight? I don’t need to tell you, baby, I’ll show you.”

I knew he could feel how damp my panties were for him from the smirk on his face and I almost whimpered when he withdrew his hand from where I needed it. “Now pack your bag, and make it quick, I’m absolutely ravenous.”

I bit my lip at the depth of his tone and knew exactly what it was he was dying to taste. I didn’t even look at what I was packing, tossing the first items that touched my hands before he stopped me and grabbed one dress instead.

“This one,” he said as he held a colourful sundress that I rarely wore anymore, a soft smile warming his eyes. “It’s my favourite.”

Click here for the final chapter. 🥺

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts @alwaysclassyeagle @dr3lover @adalynneva

#pierre gasly x poc!oc #pierre gasly x oc #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #running from the flames

178 notes · View notes

stayandot8 · 5 months

Text

Caught In The Blast

Genre: angsty mess

Relationship type: exes

Important Contents: slight swearing, gahd dayum this hurt to write but enjoy the fruits of my 2-6am labor

WC: 2.1k

mastrlist

The fight was a bad one. The worst one we’d ever had.

He hadn’t slept, I didn’t either. We were both in bad head spaces, I know that now. It was a conversation that never should have happened. It was a perfect storm of everything that could have gone wrong, did.

He had just come back from tour, which explained why he had his bags wih him. He came straight from the airport to my apartment, where I had been up waiting for him. He was four hours late, which he swore up and down wasn’t his fault. I tried to believe him, but there was a voice in the back of my head that told me he was lying for some reason. I had no grain of evidence for this accusation, yet I had convinced myself that this anthill was indeed the mountain I would die on.

He came in the door in a bad mood. The air around him was just exhausted and defeated, not normal to how he would come home from previous tour months. He almost threw his luggage down when he entered and sighed so loud I heard it across the room. Already irritated with how late he was, I checked the clock for the fourth time that hour and said the worst thing imaginable to start a conversation with your boyfriend that you haven’t seen in six months when you can already tell he’s in a bad mood.

“You’re late again.”

A great start.

“I know. I told you I was gonna be.”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to be four fucking hours late, Chris. That’s all.”

“Well I didn’t fly the plane, I don’t know what you would’ve wanted me to do.”

“Did you come straight from the airport or did you sneak off to the studio again? You have a tendency to do that.”

“Really? This again? Come on, I literally have my bags with me. I wanted to see you, so I came straight here. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it is actually when we haven’t talked on the phone since you were in Japan. Especially when we talked every night before that.” I said that last part under my breath, not quite hoping he wouldn’t hear it, but rather just in case the pang in my chest that I would regret it later was right.

“Well, shit got busy, I don’t know what you want me to say. The closer we got to the end, the more tired I was.” Or was it because you didn’t miss me?

“A text telling me that wasn’t too much to do, was it? I just don’t see what would’ve been so hard about-”

“Look. I just landed, I came straight here, and all I want to do is sleep.” He dragged his bags into my room and left me alone in the living room, seething. I wasn’t about to let him off the hook like that, no. My innermost need to win any argument, a quality I got from my mother, wouldn’t let me. So I followed him into the bedroom to see him packing up some of his stuff into his bags.

“What are you doing?”

“I came here to be with my girlfriend after being away for months but if you’re going to be like this, then I’m going back to mine. I know I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“When I’M being like this? Like what? I’m just being honest. A text isn’t too much to ask for, is it Chris? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in what feels like years and you come back and act like you don’t even want to be here! How am I supposed to react to that? What would you like me to say? I missed you so excuse me for wanting to know-”

“What am I supposed to say? ‘I’m sorry for being busy’? ‘I’m sorry that my job keeps me fucking exhausted all the time and I’m sorry that I can’t be there for you all the time’? This is my job, this is my life. This is what I signed up for. I have no room to complain about anything to anyone. Just,” He turned away from me to make for the connected bathroom. “Let me grab my stuff and I’ll be out of here.”

“Maybe when you eventually get back, I’ll be a happy, normal person again who never questions you and will always just be happy to see you whenever you grace me with your presence.” I turned to grab my stuff to storm out, ever the drama queen. “And if you see my boyfriend anywhere, let me know. Tell him to call me.”

“And when you find my girlfriend, tell her when she stops being a bitch for no reason, to come and find me.” He’d never called me that before. I don’t think he’d ever called anyone that before. It had come out of nowhere, seemingly from the depths of his chest with how much vigor he said it with. It was such a surprise that I dropped my coat and shoes on the floor. And then the rage hit.

“What did you just say?” I said to the door, not wanting to turn around. I couldn’t believe my ears.

“I knew I would regret that as soon as I said it.” I heard his voice come closer, but he knew better than to try and touch me. “I’m sorry.” The first apology of the night. “I shouldn’t have let my anger get the better of me. I haven’t slept and I’m not in my right mind.”

“You’re damn right you’re not in your right mind. And if this is what your ‘job’ has turned you into after this long, I’m not sure I can keep up. The man I know would never do that, no matter how stressed or how tired he was. He wouldn’t act like this.”

“This isn’t me, you know that.”

“I’m not sure what I know anymore.” I finally turned to him, my cheeks wet with my silent tears and my things forgotten on the floor. “What happened to you?”

“It’s too much to explain, you wouldn’t understand it all.”

“Then help me understand! I want to, so please just help me. Help me see the world of your profession through your eyes.”

“That’s just it! I can't! It’s not just a profession at this point. It has turned into my whole life. My whole life is under the control of people who don’t know me unless I make myself heard. I have to fight for my voice and sometimes even that isn’t enough. I’m not just fighting for me, I have seven other people I need to make sure whose voices are heard.”

“I know that, Chan. I know it’s not just you. But there comes a time when you have to put yourself first or else there won’t be anything left for you to fight with.”

“If you think that I wouldn’t fight until I have nothing left, then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

“That kind of talk is self-destructive, Chan. You’re going to implode. There will be pieces of you on the walls of the JYP building. And you’re going to take me down with you.”

“If there are pieces of me left, then at least I will have made my mark on something. And I wouldn’t want my ‘self-destructive talk’ to infect anyone else, so I guess there should be as much distance between us as possible.” He pushed past me to get into my room, his empty bags in his hands. He started gathering his stuff and throwing it on my bed to pack it. “Wouldn’t want you to get caught in the blast.”

“Oh yeah, because I wouldn’t be there to pick them up like I have a dozen times before. Because everytime you call I’m there. Whenever you need me, I ran to you. But when I need you, where are you? I know you love to make everyone feel loved but when it counts? You feel like you’re being pulled in a thousand directions but why is that? Do you not put yourself there? You don’t help yourself! To the point where no one else can help either because we don’t know how!”

“Like you’ve ever asked how you can help me! You’re so focused on what’s wrong that you don’t see what’s right in front of you. I’m withering away and there’s nothing I can do! Nothing anyone can do…”

He collapsed onto the floor, in the middle of his half-packed bags, and curled into himself. Just like I had said, there was nothing I could do for him now. I had no ideas, no suggestions, no solutions for him.

I loved him. I knew in that moment I did. I knew it from the moment I met him and from that point on I would for as long as I lived. But I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn’t watch him self-destruct. If this was what it took for him to realize what he was doing to himself, then maybe it had to be done.

He grabbed his zip-up Mahagrid hoodie he used to wear for his lives that he had to do while he was at my house. I slept in it every night when he wasn’t here, which had been often nowadays.

“Can you at least leave that?”

“Why?” His tone was dead.

“You barely wear it anymore and you know it's my favorite. You’ve seen how often I sleep in it. Are you that bitter that you wouldn't let me have it?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s mine and I’m keeping it.” And he shoved it into his bag and zipped it up. “You’ll be fine.” There wasn’t any malice in his tone there, more like… remorse, if I had to put a name to it. Like he didn’t want to do it but had to to soothe some inner turmoil he was currently going through. He gathered his bags and gently shoved past me in the doorway. I think he believed I would try and stop him. One more disappointment to give him and on his way out, no less. He slowed when he got to the door and stopped when his hand had reached the door handle. It was like he didn't want to leave because he knew there was no coming back. In some way, I think he knew that this was the last straw and this…this would be the last time he knew that he would be on this side of that door. So I said the only thing I could think of that I knew was still true and would be until the day I stopped breathing.

“I love you, Chris.”

“I know.” And he closed the door gently behind him.

That was three days ago. My apartment was now littered with used tissues and empty cups of whatever I had in the fridge because it was the only thing I could keep down. I knew I did the right thing. That didn’t make it any easier. And honestly, I expected a text at the very least by now, but my phone was still black across the counter in the kitchen. I felt like I had been staring at it everyday when I woke up until the moment I fell asleep. I spent the last 72 hours moping around my apartment, doing nothing but avoiding the calls from my parents, friends, and anyone whose name wasn’t Chris Bang. Which never came.

Staring at the contents of my fridge, I couldn’t help the chill that shot down my spine. I had to settle for one of my own hoodies, not nearly giving the sense of home that I had been very dearly missing for the past three days. The fuzz of this sweatshirt just wasn’t cutting it and to be real with myself, I missed him. I fucking missed him a lot.

God damnit.

There was nothing in this fridge. Who was I kidding, I hadn’t gone shopping in a week and it was starting to show. The shelves were empty and for the first time, I was actually starting to feel the hunger. Swallowing what little self-respect I had, I put on my shoes, grabbed my keys, and opened my front door.

And there it was, in its black and white lettering glory. Sitting in a cardboard box was his zip-up hoodie. No letter, nothing else in the box, just this. The last piece of him that I would have, thanks to him.

He would always love me. Just like I would always love him. Nothing would ever change that. Maybe later in life, we could come back together. There was always that hope. But until then, we would have to settle for this; deep down, I knew that promise to always root for each other still stood. I knew he would keep up his end.

I never took it off.

99 notes · View notes

thesparklingwriter · 6 months

Text

taking fate into one's own hands

04—acquaintance

Word count: 1.3k

navi | taglist | masterlist

You look at him carefully. Perhaps this whole act he’s putting on is an attempt to be more personable. But it’s in your best interests to, at the very least, get along with the man you’ve been promised to. When it comes to loveless marriages to bind nations, divorce isn’t an option. There’s no going back.

“Alright, I’ll eat dinner with you.” You say quietly, and the sides of Morax’s lips quirk upwards. You’re convinced for a second that you made it up somehow, for even when he’d spoken to you as a dignitary, he hadn’t smiled once.

“I hope your room is to your liking,” He says, as you follow behind him. “If there’s anything that it is lacking, please do let me or one of the help know.”

You glance at him, convinced that he can’t be in earnest. He’d been so stoic when you first met him, and even once he’d come clean in regards to his identity, his emotions towards you had seemed to be nothing more than detached amusement.

“Everything is alright, thank you.” you say, bowing your head in gratitude to the man who places your food on your table. You hadn’t considered the change in cuisine and you steel your expression as well as you can, in order to not show your hesitation to eat the unfamiliar food. The butler pours you each a drink, a glistening pale wine, and bows as he excuses himself quietly. Besides your plate, there are golden chopsticks, and then a fork by its side, its dark silver tone standing out against the rest of the tableware. Is it some kind of test?

You glance worriedly between the two, as Morax’s unruffled gaze settles on you.

“You seem troubled. If I may, might I request that you speak freely?”

You glance down at the cutlery again and back up at him, shaking your head softly.

“Nothing troubles me.” you whisper, picking up the two chopsticks as confidently as you can, arranging them in your hands as subtly as you can. You haven’t seen anyone eat with chopsticks for a long time, and suddenly realise you should have waited for him to start so you could copy his technique.

You attempt to pretend to take a sip of your drink or look at the spices on the table to delay your eating, but Morax simply watches you with an even gaze as you quietly panic.

“Is the food not to your taste?” he asks you, finally looking away from you to pick up a fork. “I find that sometimes chopsticks make eating take longer than necessary. I used your arrival as a reason to justify getting some new cutlery.”

You blink at him. “Pardon me if I speak out of turn, but I had always believed you were a firm believer in traditions.” you refuse to relinquish your chopsticks, too embarrassed to admit that using them was a front to try and impress him. You hadn't realised you were acting in a way that might win his favour—and the thought of it surprises you.

Morax’s eyebrows quirk slightly at your implied question, carefully trying to craft an answer that wouldn’t make you question your presence in the palace too much. Perhaps the reaction you’ve had towards him so far is out of fear that you’re not Liyuean enough from him and his people. It wouldn’t be an absurd thought, but if the situation in your home nation remains as rocky as it is now, he wouldn’t want you to return. He certainly want to be the reason you go back, either.

“Ah,” he says quietly, chewing his food. “That is a common misconception. Perhaps when it comes to certain meetings and negotiations, it is true that I remain true to the conditions that have always been stipulated by ancient Liyuean law. However, I myself, think there isn’t much to be learned by holding steadfastly onto tradition in day to day life.”

You gape at him. “So I’m not to be hated by every member of Liyue for not hailing from here?”

Morax sighs. “I cannot speak for my people. I sometimes find they can be stubborn and they often do not like change.”

“You are not filling me with confidence.” You reply drily. Morax fixes you with an even stare, wanting to make sure you listen to his next words.

“I do not seek to deceive you.” he replies evenly. “As of right now, our arrangement is unofficial. Thus you have every right to choose how you wish to proceed. If you cannot bear to stay here with me for a moment longer, you may go home at any point.”

“But what would come of my kingdom, or of me?”

“That would be subject to negotiation. But in situations like that, Liyuean law isn’t particularly favourable for foreigners.”

The word foreigner hits you in your chest. Of course, you didn’t expect to be treated as if you were from here, but to be categorised as something else entirely? It stings, regardless of how you feel about the situation with Morax.

“Your food,” he prompts quietly. Even though you’re almost certain that he isn't going to smite you for using the fork instead of the chopsticks, you refuse to put them down, instead choosing to use them with varying degrees of success.

He watches you carefully, before silently switching to his own chopsticks, quietly pleased with the way you snatch looks at him to copy his form. Slowly, but surely, he’s beginning to understand the way your mind works.

“Have you any interest in looking around Liyue? I’m sure a tour could be organised, if that’s what you wish.” he says to you, once you’ve finished. The food is good, almost as good as the food was at home before things began to go south.

You want to say no, and to stay within the confines of your new room for as long as you can manage, but the lack of clothing is beginning to worry you. When you don’t immediately reply, Morax tries again.

“Have you everything you need?” He says. “If you aren’t interested in looking around the harbour’s stalls as of now, you can always request what you need from the help, and I’m sure they’d be happy to oblige. The choice is yours.”

You take a bite of your food, and try not to cringe at the sudden spice you taste, trying to calmly take a sip of your wine.

“Let me finish my dinner before I make that decision,” you say quietly, and Morax simply nods, his eyes narrowing at you slightly. You don’t notice, almost entirely focused on trying to finish the rest of your food without falling apart.

Compared to where you come from, Liyue is loud. Even when you’re deep in the mountains as you are now, the birds and crickets and bugs are louder than they ever were at home, and it makes for a somewhat settling feeling.

“Whilst we’re on the topic of shopping,” You say quietly, ashamed in advance of the words you’re about to say. “It’s not a secret that my nation wasn’t the most prosperous, my existence here is evidence of that—”

“You are here as a guest. Nothing is expected of you in a monetary or emotional aspect unless you are able and willing to provide. Do not worry about things that are unnecessary.”

Your naivety manifests itself in the raucous beating of your chest in response to his words, and you find yourself utterly embarrassed by how easily swayed you are by a basic display of human decency and respected boundaries.

“Alright,” you say quietly. His words have removed him from the centre of your decision and it’s only yourself to consider now. But perhaps that makes the decision harder.

(didn't have enough character left to write what reader says like i usually do sorry lol)

notes: i'm afraid that doing the polls like this will nerf this series even more but its less work for me so :3

i like to pretend that i don't really care about notes and stuff on my posts but for this series specifically the lack of engagement is gagging me lol i've tried so much to get it more out there but ahhh

taglist: @ainescribe @tartigglez

#genshin x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli fan fiction #genshin fanfiction #choose your own path #[🧡]—taking fate into one’s own hands #zhongli fan fic #genshin fluff #genshin impact #zhongli fanfic #fanfiction #zhongli royalty au #royalty au #genshin polls #polls

62 notes · View notes

heliopauseentertainments · 17 days

Text

Course of Treatment

For TFMegaRatch's "Unexpected" prompt Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General Relationships: Megatron/Ratchet

Characters: Ratchet, Megatron

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Not Beta Red

Summary: In which Ratchet is the only concession requested by the Decepticons in the peace treaty.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth | TFMegaRatch

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

Ratchet couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He leaned back in his seat, jaw slack and optics wide in shock.

That couldn’t have been correct.

Absolutely not.

He shook his head as though that would make the world make sense again.

It didn’t.

The meeting had started simply enough; his presence at the peace negotiations had only been a formality—a function of his high rank—since he had little de jure authority beyond medical decisions. Sure, he had some measure of personal influence but that generally didn’t translate to political sway.

Ratchet slowly turned his head sideways to look at this fellows. His side of the table all appeared to be in various stages of shock. Prowl looked like he’d been zapped by an electrified pylon. Ironhide looked like Megatron had insulted him personally. Kup looked like he thought this was all some kind of joke. And Jazz… for once had been rendered utterly speechless.

Optimus leaned forward in his seat, cautiously like the entire situation was a bomb. It might as well have been.

“Would you… run that by us one more time, Megatron?” he asked, surely making some kind of baffled expression with his mouth behind that battle mask. “I’m… not sure we heard you correctly.”

Megatron, for his part, sat there on the opposite side of the literal bargaining table, hands folded together as he frowned. Nothing unusual about how he was holding himself, except perhaps the usual signs of exhaustion and fatigue that Ratchet had noticed over the years. Optimus bore similar signs, making them easy to recognize.

It was as though he thought he hadn’t said anything remarkable at all.

None of the lieutenants at his side seemed surprised either. However, two of them had no visible face and Starscream did tense his own frown in what might have been a measure of disgust.

Ratchet wasn’t sure what to make of this.

“Is your hearing going, Prime?” Megatron scoffed. “But, very well, I suppose I could do you the courtesy of repeating myself.”

Ratchet braced himself, certain that he wouldn’t say it again. That they had heard incorrectly or that Megatron had misspoken the first time. There had to have been some kind of mistake.

“All I’m asking for… is Ratchet.” There was a pause. “In a conjunxual union.”

Then he hadn’t misheard after all.

The shuttle, rickety with age, shuddered as it passed through the outer layers of the atmosphere to enter a high orbit. It whisked Ratchet away from the ruins of Iacon, the one city remaining on Cybertron that had enough structures intact to call it a settlement… up to where the Nemesis waited, falling perpetually around the planet.

The reflected light of the sky dropped away as the shuttle left the firmament, and thus Cybertron, behind.

Everything since the meeting had been a blur. Optimus and the others had decided that peace and control of the planet had been worth the low, low cost of handing over Ratchet to Megatron.

Even Ratchet could understand the logic of the choice. At the time, he had even verbally agreed.

In a way, he had reasoned at the time, he would be sacrificing himself for the good of them all. It was, comparatively, a small cost.

Megatron could have demanded land for settling, resources, a skewed trade agreement, access to research and technologies, hostages, political power, anything that made sense to ask for when negotiating an equitable peace treaty… but he hadn’t.

He had only asked… for Ratchet’s hand in union.

It was baffling.

Something clearly wasn’t right here.

Ratchet didn’t even know Megatron particularly well, not personally. He knew of him; he had seen him many times in meetings and battles, had heard him bloviating in both person and media releases. He didn’t know him in the way that Optimus did, through close, direct opposition.

By that token, Megatron couldn’t have really known Ratchet either. It was highly unlikely that Megatron had been secretly nursing a flame of unrequited love—or lust—for a random Autobot medic for some indefinite amount of time. Why pick him? Why demand him and no one else?

The blackness of the void moved slowly outside the shuttle; the sliding points of light—distant stars—and the growing edge of a warship’s hull were the only visual signs of motion now that the sky had vanished.

An unkind thought in the back of his processor pushed its way forward: Ratchet likely deserved this. For something. For patients he had failed to save. For conflicts he had failed to intervene in. For something. There was always something he could have done better.

And Megatron, personally, was to be his punishment.

That and separation from his fellow Autobots until such a time as relations between the two armies could be normalized, if such a time ever came. Until then—even then—Megatron would loom large in his life, an all-encompassing shadow.

The worldburner-class ship that was to be his home loomed ahead, now filling the entirety of the shuttle’s forward viewscreen, blocking out even a hint of the field of stars beyond. The Decepticons were to live in exile and search for a new homeworld elsewhere among the stars; it would be a long journey to find a place both suitable, uninhabited, and far enough from any civilizations the Decepticons had angered. They were, quite understandably in Ratchet’s opinion, also barred from settling on any worlds that they had previously sterilized.

Ships like this, Ratchet knew, could easily destroy worlds, even if now it’s role was nominally that of a colony ship. This flagship had proved its power many times over throughout the war. It was only happenstance that Cybertron had the near-sacred status of “home” even if it was in ruins, destroyed in all other ways that mattered. Worldburners were saved, it seemed, for organic worlds.

Ratchet could only hope that once he boarded the Nemesis, that Megatron wouldn’t turn the ship’s armaments against their planet in one last vindictive blow before speeding off into deep space to… wherever it was they were going. Somewhere far, far away.

The Decepticon pilots aboard the shuttle, thankfully, ignored Ratchet and his silent musings as he sat in one of the passenger seats, his medical kit tucked underneath behind his legs.

At least, he thought, he had few belongings. His medical kit and nothing more, not counting the long-distance communicator Prowl had granted him. “Just in case” was what he had been told. Over the millions of years of war and constantly being on the move, he had learned to not keep more than the essentials.

His real dowry was the treaty. For all the good it did.

He leaned forward in his seat to watch the final approach.

A small square in the distance opened up in the worldburner’s hull, a little hatch of some kind, barely visible on the viewscreen.

At first, he thought, perhaps it was for a docking cable or some other equipment, but as the square grew in size as they neared… the sheer scale of the Nemesis became clear.

The “small square” was the mouth of their distant landing dock on this utterly titanic ship.

His spark stirred uncomfortably in his chest, chilled by a sense of his own frailty and insignificance.

It had been some time since Ratchet had felt so… minuscule.

The Nemesis’s corridors were vast, designed to allow huge warframes to pass through unencumbered. Ratchet, an average Cybertronian in size, felt like little more than a minibot as his and Megatron’s footsteps echoed off the walls. Even Megatron seemed comparatively small.

It would be easy to get lost for hours, maybe days, in a warship this size, simply by taking one wrong turn and ended up in an entirely different deck or sector.

Megatron’s voice joined the footsteps in the echoes, detailing to Ratchet general information about the ship, what deck they were currently on, what the current work shift was.

A strange first topic to discuss with a legal partner, Ratchet thought, letting the data wash over him as he tried to habituate to hearing Megatron’s voice without imagining Autobots shattered into pieces on a fuel-soaked battlefield at the same time.

Perhaps it was for the best that whatever Megatron was telling him was mundane, momentarily unimportant. The information could get lost and do no harm in disappearing.

Megatron and Soundwave had both met him in the shuttle’s docking bay.

Soundwave, of course, had remained inscrutable. As usual.

Yet, Megatron had scowled.

However, that had seemed to be his default expression over the last millions of years, so Ratchet had reasoned that it likely wasn’t a particular scowl meant for him personally. That was, unfortunately, just his face rather than a sign of displeasure or impending threat.

With no preamble other than a brief “welcome,” Soundwave had presented Ratchet with his identification documents, allowing him the rights and privileges of any Decepticon, though strictly, for now, he was one of the Decepticons’ few civilians. He hadn’t been given a job classification or salary schedule, but he would be offered those, apparently, after he had gotten settled in.

Soundwave, however, had then promptly left, leaving Ratchet alone with Megatron… for the first time… of what would likely be many such occasions in the coming endless years.

Ratchet had opened his mouth, like he had wanted to say something, to tell Megatron that this had only been for the good of their peoples, to not expect much despite the legal paperwork that was already in place.

But Megatron had suddenly smirked, a look oddly more threatening the scowl had been. Maybe it had been intended to be a smile, but at the time Ratchet couldn’t have been certain. Whatever it was supposed to have been, it had interrupted whatever sounds had been waiting in Ratchet’s vocalizer.

“Allow me to echo what Soundwave said before: welcome, Ratchet,” he had said, his smirk struggling slightly as though the word sans sarcasm had been foreign to him. There was a twitch to his mouth, not unlike when certain patients were hesitant in telling Ratchet how exactly they had come by their injuries. “Your stay here has been a long time coming.”

What had that meant?

Now, walking side by side easily twenty minutes later, Ratchet could only wonder just how far they had to go to reach their destination… and what Megatron intended upon their arrival.

Megatron had, of course, managed to talk the entire time. A great windbag.

He abruptly turned down another, smaller corridor, one with a lower ceiling and closer walls, clearly not meant for the largest of mechs. The likes of Overlord and his ilk would have had to stoop. Perhaps this was intentional in the design.

Though the floors could have used a shine, scuff marks on the surface and clumps of dust congregating in the corners.

Ratchet nearly walked right past the turn before scrambling to change direction.

“Hey!”

Megatron stopped, looking back over his shoulder.

“My apologies, Ratchet.” What apologies? Had Megatron ever once possessed apologies to offer anyone? “Old habits, you see; it’s easy to forget you don’t know your way around yet.”

An oddly reasonable excuse for just ducking around corners without warning.

Terrible.

It was a shame that Megatron was still smirking at him. Though, that might have been meant as a smile. Did he even know how to smile normally? Was he trying and failing?

“It’s fine,” Ratchet said, letting it slide.

His patience would probably be truly put to the test before long, but so far this was nothing. He had gotten more lip from Prowl and Ironhide while getting loaded up into the transport shuttle that morning when they warned him to keep his wits about him.

All the same, he narrowed his eyes as he caught up to Megatron’s position.

He didn’t really know Megatron as a person beyond his warmongering and murderous roles. It was hard to know what to expect, despite the fact that they had already been joined in the legal sense.

There hadn’t even been a ceremony; it had all been done through Ultra Magnus and Prowl mediating paperwork. For most people, no ceremony would have been unsurprising. The decision to become conjunx endurae was a private, personal matter. For a high-ranked individuals joining as part of a peace deal, though, a nominal ceremony would have been more expected.

It didn’t quite add up.

Ratchet let Megatron continue to lead the way to wherever it was they were going. Most likely some private residence. He hadn’t been sure if he would be expected to reside with Megatron or if he would be allotted his own private space.

Soon, however, after ducking through another few hallways, they stopped at a nondescript door.

“Here we are.”

“And where is ‘here’ exactly?” Ratchet asked, putting his free hand on his hip as he frowned up at Megatron. Some of his initial discomfort having worn off in the mundanity and boredom of wandering around the hallways.

“Our quarters.”

So they would be sharing after all—but in this out of the way place? Was it to deter intruders and traitors? It would be harder to locate the leader if the leader didn’t reside in obvious places, Ratchet supposed.

Being alone in private quarters with someone perfectly capable of extreme violence, while not unknown to Ratchet from caring for various high-risk patients, was not something he relished. Who knew what Megatron would do?

“Our?” he questioned, despite the obvious implication of Megatron’s original answer.

“Of course, it goes without saying.”

Megatron shrugged nonchalantly as the door slid open. He gestured inside for Ratchet to go in ahead of him.

“Does it though? Does it really?” Ratchet pressed, stubbornly keeping his place in the hall. He raised his hand, pointing up at Megatron’s nose. If Ratchet stretched up just a little, he could probably jab Megatron right in the face. “This is just a political—“

“Yes,” Megatron cut him off, still keeping his arm out towards the door. His posture was stiff, like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Ratchet wasn’t one of his soldiers to command; there was no reason for Ratchet to defer to his authority. Retaliation could endanger the treaty: one little call to Prowl on the communicator and the Autobots would extract him.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

If they weren’t too far away to mount a rescue if—when—something went wrong.

If they didn’t deem the costs of retrieving Ratchet too high for the value of keeping the Decepticons out of sight and out of mind. Why bother demanding a refund when the deal was such a bargain?

Maybe Ratchet ought to be mindful of proverbial land mines—

“Yes, it is a political arrangement, but it needn’t be solely such.”

Ratchet’s jaw went slack, his hand still raised.

Megatron continued regardless, as though what he said didn’t have serious implications.

“Even with a political arrangement, it would look like we’re flouting the treaty to not cohabit by disregarding the spirit of the thing.”

He waved his arm up and down, nonverbally reiterating his request that Ratchet cross the threshold.

“A separate room has been set aside for you personally, which you would see if you went in.”

“Oh—” Ratchet finally dropped his hand, feeling a little foolish.

So he wasn’t expected to share a slab with the oaf, at least not for the time being. And, by extension, he probably wasn’t expected to share a slab in less literal terms.

“Alright, but no funny business. I may have taken oaths to heal, but don’t think that makes me helpless. You know better than that by now.”

During the war, field medics often had to become just as handy with guns and hand-to-hand combat as the soldiers they put back together. Ratchet just always preferred to head off violence with other means wherever possible, but he wouldn’t let Megatron forget that he wasn’t some pushover.

Megatron held up his palms in mock surrender, grinning like he thought this whole thing was funny.

“Ratchet, I wouldn’t dream of such a fallacy.”

Ratchet scoffed, ducking around Megatron to avoid contact as he went through the door.

Megatron slumped into his chair on the Nemesis’s bridge, rather than standing like he usually would during a launch.

He had left Ratchet to their quarters, so that he could explore and settle in. Maps of the ship and other informational materials about the vessel, its utilities, conveniences, and sundries had been left with him for perusal.

Their personal refinery in the quarters had been stocked with fuel and whatever sparse flavorings and additives the Decepticons had been able to source. Ratchet would not be able to accuse him of having abandoned him to starve.

Mechs scurried back and forth in Megatron’s field of vision, coming and going and shuffling about throughout the bridge. Even though they were already in orbit, rather than lifting off from the ground, it still took a lot of coordination to move a ship of this size.

Especially given the condition it was in.

At first glance, the vessel was impressive, powerful and in great shape.

But having spent untold eons dwelling on it after it had been discovered, Megatron and the other Decepticons stationed here knew its failings, saw where its condition had deteriorated.

There was metal fatigue in places where there oughtn’t be, corrosion without explanation, paint flaking akin to nutrient deficiencies. The hull and bulkheads would groan without obvious cause. Components would fail sometimes without warning. Each of the engines required “rituals” of percussive maintenance unique to each one, to kick on and stay on.

The ship was, for lack of a better word, ill… and becoming slowly sicker by the day.

A ridiculous statement, but one Megatron had had to confront on the daily for ages now. If something wasn’t done….

Megatron leaned his head against his elbow, propped up on the arm of the chair. He closed his optics against the headache building in his forehead.

“What did you tell him?” Starscream’s voice grated against his audio receptors.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, still not bothering to look at his second-in-command. He knew what Starscream looked like. He could easily imagine what skeptical expression was being made in his direction.

Keeping the identity of their flagship a secret from the Autobots had been a major logistical challenge during the war. If they knew that the Decepticons had been piloting around a comatose, chronically ill titan for ages—Their ship had been the model for the other worldburners, the remaining fleet waiting patiently near the heliopause to set off for their final destination.

“Nothing,” he said, “yet.”

He couldn’t afford to show their hand too early. With his own medics either too incompetent or too inexperienced to treat a titan, Ratchet was their only hope.

#fic #one shot #idw1 #maccadam #megatron #ratchet #megaratch

21 notes · View notes

raspberryfingers · 1 year

Text

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 8)

WARNINGS: Tywin being the largest asshole ever

Word Count: 6.5k

—————

Ever since I’d given Lord Tywin the ring, things had changed between us. And despite what one might assume, our relationship hadn’t changed for the better. In the last two weeks, Lord Tywin had been cold, flippant, and arrogant whenever I’d tried to talk with him. At first I’d just assumed he was having a bad day, or was frustrated by politics and war, the sort of thing men will let themselves be frustrated by. Then I remembered that it was Tyrion’s name day, and naturally thought that it must’ve been a rather painful anniversary for him. But no, even after that had passed, he did not warm up to me.

It became incredibly apparent to me that I was somehow the problem, and what was most annoying was that I had not a single clue as to why. He’d seemed overjoyed when I’d given him the ring, I mean for the gods’ sake, he’d even called me by my name alone.

But now he was dreadful, always grumbling and making excuses whenever we saw one another. They were not even good excuses either, and some had just been outright lies. I had been meaning to confront him about his behavior anyway, but I snapped today.

It had started perfectly fine, a bit dull at the worst, but fine. My grandmother had other business to attend to—which, in reality, meant she did not want to do anything—and so I took her place in the great hall. Though it was ‘unofficial’, there were certain days where the lords and ladies would gather to gossip, plan, and learn unnecessary information about each other. Today was one of those days, and I found myself enveloped in an extremely boring conversation with several noble ladies.

“Lady Trysta was seen flirting with Lord Darren in the gardens yesterday, can you believe it?”

“Gods, isn’t his wife pregnant with their first child?”

“I don’t believe such nonsense. Lady Trysta is a very noble woman, surely she wouldn’t do something so insulting.”

I wondered how my grandmother managed to survive such droll conversations, though I understood that this was why she had sent me in her place. She might’ve sent Margaery if not for the fact that she was with King Joffrey today, and that thought at least provided some reassurance.

But still, I was not the politician that either my grandmother or sister were. I supposed I just preferred real politics to court gossip, though usually the two must go hand in hand.

When I spotted Lord Varys exiting a conversation across the room, however, I took my chance. It would seem far less rude to exit the conversation if it appeared as though I was going to speak with someone else.

“Excuse me, ladies,” I said softly, moving back from the circle and making my way across the room. I did not stay close enough to hear anything they’d said, nor did I look back to see their faces. I quite honestly did not care enough.

Lord Varys saw me coming and brought his hands together in expectation. I gave him a subtle smile, and he raised his eyebrow in response. When I reached him, he bowed his head.

“Lady (Y/N).”

“Lord Varys, how are you?”

“Perfectly fine, my lady. And how are you?” He asked, lowering his hands to his lap. I’d always found Lord Varys to be an agreeable man. Of course, he was still one to be cautious around, but he was infinitely better than Littlefinger, and the short interactions we’d had were enjoyable.

“I have been better and been worse, my lord,” I answered truthfully, knowing it couldn’t really do me any harm. The Spider gave a low chuckle.

“I hear there is news of the change in the wedding plans,” he mentioned, to which I huffed out. There was another thing I needed to discuss with Lord Tywin, as he had not been willing to give Sansa Stark to my brother. She was now to wed Tyrion, and Loras was to wed Cersei. My grandmother had agreed out of fear of Loras being appointed kingsguard, but I would sooner rot in all seven hells than watch my brother marry Cersei Lannister.

“That arrangement certainly does not make me feel better, but it is not that. May I unburden myself to you, Lord Varys?” I asked, hoping for someone wise and reasonable to listen to me. It was not as though I could talk about it to any of my family members, for I feared they would tease and ask far too many questions. They of all people would be surprised to hear me complain that Tywin Lannister was being rude to me, or at least surprised to hear that I wished to remedy the situation.

“Is it something that can be used against you?” he asked, taking a breath and tilting his head. It was good of him to at least give me that warning, even if I already knew better.

“I highly doubt it. I wouldn’t have even brought it up if it was.”

“Smart of you, Lady Tyrell. By all means, go ahead.”

I smiled, and so did Lord Varys. To say that we were friends was a false statement, but I preferred his company to quite a lot of people’s in King’s Landing.

“Recently, I believed Lord Tywin and I to be having an improving relationship. It was rather nice, because being allies with a man you hate is quite frustrating, as I’m sure you can imagine. But, these last two weeks, he’s distanced himself from me more than is anywhere close to reasonable, and I cannot think of anything I may have done wrong,” I explained, sighing and glancing up at the throne, which sat directly over Lord Varys’ shoulder.

The Spider nodded, contemplating and looking down. I saw a smile tug at the corner of his lips, but it disappeared just as fast as it had come. I might’ve asked about it had he not replied so quickly afterward.

“Don’t worry yourself with it, Lady (Y/N). Lord Tywin can be unpredictable at times, I’m certain that whatever reason he has for being a bit colder than usual is a good one,” he assured me, reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder. I sighed, gazing across the room where Lord Tywin himself was engaged in a conversation. He was not saying much, but it was clear that everyone in the circle spoke as if they needed his approval.

At that instant, however, he looked over and met my gaze. He only held it for a moment, though, as his eyes then looked Lord Varys over rather thoughtfully. His face twisted bitterly, and he focused on the man speaking again. Lord Varys removed his hand from me, giving me a rather sympathetic look.

“I- I have considered speaking to him about the subject, though I’m not entirely sure if that would be a good idea considering that Lord Tywin is… well, Lord Tywin,” I said, finally turning my head to look at the man in front of me again. He blinked a few times with contemplation and then sighed out.

“The Hand certainly is a complicated man, but I think if you approached him about it in the right way he might be receptive. I do hope you will figure it out, my lady. It would be quite nice to see you and Lord Tywin getting along for a change,” Lord Varys replied, giving the gentlest of smiles. I looked over at the group of men with Lord Tywin again and got the sudden urge to go over.

“Would you come with me, Lord Varys? I’d like to hear that conversation, and I think being on your arm would seem a more natural reason to join it.”

“Of course, my lady.”

I took the Spider’s arm, and we found ourselves wandering across the hall and joining the circle in a matter of moments. The Master of Whispers was never out of place in any conversation, and beside him, neither was I. Lord Tywin gazed at me for a mere second and then returned his focus to the man talking. I was the only woman in the group, naturally.

“Robb Stark wants to behead Rickard Karstark now. The man went and killed two Lannister boys all because he’s bitter,” one of them said, scoffing out as if the notion was utterly ridiculous. Another man glared and shook his head.

“You’d be bitter too if someone killed your boy. Of course, the man’s a bloody fool for doing it, but the anger is understandable.”

“Well, I hope ‘the King in the North’ does the honorable thing like his father would’ve. He’ll lose all the Karstark bannermen if he does. The war will be over five seconds after the man’s head is gone.”

“And he’s got no substantial allies then.”

Feeling the urge to speak up, I let go of Lord Varys’ arm and cleared my throat to grab all the men’s attention. “Robb Stark is a great strategist if nothing else, gentleman. It would be unwise to underestimate him simply because his numbers are small.”

I expected to meet resistance from a few of them, just as women always do in such a setting, but I had not expected it from the Hand of the King himself.

“His numbers aren’t small, he does not have numbers at all. Robb Stark is just like his father, too honorable, and the second Rickard Karstark loses his head, we win,” Lord Tywin spoke, giving me a somewhat condescending look. Everyone seemed surprised, as he’d been very quiet for most of the discussion. My annoyance grew. Why challenge me in a circle of already skeptical men? It depleted my credibility and made me look foolish.

“I’ve heard whispers that Robb Stark has received a request from Walder Frey. Though the boy is already married, Lord Frey wishes to have his uncle, Edmure Tully, marry one of his daughters,” Lord Varys added, and I appreciated his conscious aid, for Lord Tywin was feeling particularly ‘cunt-ish’ this afternoon.

“And if that were to happen, that alliance could be worrisome and a threat,” I said, proving my point as my eyebrows furrowed with anger. The circle grew awkward as the aggression built between Lord Tywin and I.

“Walder Frey will never make an alliance with Robb Stark.”

“And how do you know that? Did you become all knowing since the last time we spoke, Lord Tywin?”

“I know that because I’m not a fool.”

The circle went utterly silent, and not a single man released or took a breath. I felt my eyes twitch. No, I would not stand here and let Lord Tywin embarrass me. We’d always had conflicts, but how dare he insult me so harshly in front of others?

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I said sharply, removing myself from them. As I did, Varys gave me a soft look of apology, and I would thank him for it later. As I walked away, however, I heard Lord Tywin say one last thing.

“Forgive her, gentlemen. Lady Tyrell is young and naive, nothing more than a girl, really. She’s under the impression that commanding her father’s armies gives her far more power and influence than she really has. It would be unfair to judge her knowledge of real politics.”

I heard laughter coming from the group, and only for a second did I stop walking. I felt my heart shatter at his words, though it did not take long for anger to replace the hurt.

How dare he?

How dare he embarrass me so publicly? Because his testing tone and his insults had merely been aggravating to my face, but behind my back and not directly to me, they were unforgivable. After every conversation we’d had? After he’d directly confirmed that he did not view me as childish or stupid, he dared to insinuate that I was both things to a group of men that did not know me?

He was well aware of the fact that I did not like to be discredited, and yet he had said such a thing anyway. Perhaps I had overestimated both how truthful and how understanding the Old Lion was.

Despite this feeling of disgust, I continued to walk out of the hall, though anger and possibly even heat were omitted from every step I took. It would stay that way until I confronted him that afternoon, when it would only get worse.

—————

When I entered Lord Tywin’s office, I thought I might explode. He did not even look up at me when I entered, acting as though I simply wasn’t there. He just went on answering letters, completely unaffected by my presence in the room.

I heard the double doors shut behind me, and even more angry about the fact that he was not acknowledging my presence, I made purposeful strides towards his desk. When I reached it, he still would not lift his head.

“Lord Tywin, I wish to speak with you,” I said, balling my fists at my sides to try and contain my fury. I was also trying so hard not to sound rude that I instead sounded like something was stuck in my throat.

“You already are,” he replied curtly, still scratching something down on his parchment. I scowled, reaching across his desk and ripping his stupid quill from his hands. He did not seem shocked, he simply looked at me with boredom. It was as if he was asking me ‘are you done?’.

“I want to speak with you, not at you,” I clarified sternly, placing the quill down on the wood now that Lord Tywin had at least bothered to look at me.

“And what is it that you wish to discuss?”

I could only gape at him for a moment, raising both eyebrows to ask if he was being entirely serious. When he said nothing, I scoffed and clenched my jaw. “What is it that I wish to discuss? I don’t know, perhaps the atrocious way that you treated me today!”

“I don’t know what you mean, Lady Tyrell,” he replied, giving me the most condescending look I’d ever seen. I, however, was in shock. Lady Tyrell?

Lady fucking Tyrell?

“Lady Tyrell, Lord Tywin? Are you serious? And don’t play stupid with me, you’re above that. You embarrassed me in front of all those lords. You made me look like a desperate fool and an idiot,” I hissed, glaring down at him with more anger than I even knew I possessed. I’d suffered quite a lot of insults in my life, but none so degrading as the ones I’d heard from him today.

“You were behaving like one, Lady Tyrell,” he replied, making my knuckles go white on his desk. In all the time that I’d known him, he’d very seldom called me by that title. Many did, but not him. Not when speaking to me, at least.

“Stop fucking calling me that! I’d rather you call me an insufferable cunt than Lady Tyrell!” I shouted in a rare moment of utter frustration. Somehow, him referring to me that way was even more upsetting than him saying that I was childish. I hadn’t a clue why that was.

For just a moment, there was a flash of surprise in the Lord Hand’s eyes. It had been quite some time since I’d yelled at him that way, and I supposed he hadn’t been expecting it. It seemed that my words had gagged the man, for he merely stood up from his seat to be at a more even level to me. Had I been anyone else, his height would’ve been intimidating, but I knew exactly what he was doing and it only made me more bold.

“You crossed a line today, Lord Tywin. Embarrassing me to my face is one thing, and perhaps you believe I deserved that, but when I’m not even present in the conversation and you have the audacity to call me desperate and witless, that is entirely another! You ought to have had the decency to at least try and defend me as Lord Varys did. No, instead you actively opposed me like my sentiment was somehow the most foolish one you’d ever heard, and if you’re honest with yourself, you know that what I was saying made sense,” I ranted, glaring at him and slowly making my way around his desk as I did. I was taking slow, furious steps, and eventually I was standing right in front of him. There was unbridled anger on his face now, and I was at the very least satisfied to have broken his unbothered facade.

“And what would you have had me say? Whether you believe yourself to be clever or not, I don’t agree with your sentiments about Robb Stark and Walder Frey,” he replied, only addressing the most trivial part of my frustration. I sighed, shaking my head at him.

“I’m not asking you to agree with me, but forgive me for wanting you to have at least not embarrassed me. Is that so unimaginable to you? I mean gods help me, Lord Varys! How is it that Lord Varys, a man I hardly know, made me look more credible than you did? Have I overstated our friendship? Do you truly care for me that little?” I went off on him, taking a step forward so that I was practically looking directly up at him. I was unbelievably angry, though more than anything I was hurt.

“We are not friends, Lady (Y/N)! We are allies. Allies! I have no obligation to defend you anywhere but the battlefield. Nor do I have to honor your image, especially when you are so prone to foolishness. Most importantly, I have no obligation to be kind to you at all. Perhaps if you’d had the sense to remind yourself of that, you wouldn’t be so upset in the first place,” he shot back, nose wrinkling with his anger while he spoke. I was relieved to—at the very least—hear him use my name, but also hurt at his sentiment. Although, I was not just going to accept that. I was not one to overstate relationships, and I would not let him treat me like I was groveling for his affection. After all, it was I who had struggled to see him as anything but an enemy.

“Merely allies, Lord Tywin? Be honest with yourself. You have saved my life during the battle, and you helped me back to my room when my stitches split. You had a new pair of armor made for me which was far more elegant than any reasonable person would’ve asked for, and you paid for the smith to fix my Valyrian steel sword. We quite literally hunted, dined, and slept outside together! You want to tell me that we’re not friends? Even after all that? You’re currently wearing a ring that I had made for you and you truly want to believe we aren’t anything more than just allies?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows and searching for any hint of emotion in his eyes. I was only trying to clear up where he’d gotten lost, or maybe where I had.

Lord Tywin only glared at me, and after a moment he lifted his hand. I watched him grab at the ring, twisting it back and forth to loosen it from his skin before pulling it off entirely. He grabbed my hand then, opening it up and placing the Valyrian steel inside my palm. Looking at it, my heart sank all the way into my stomach. Tears suddenly began to prick at my eyes, but I looked down. The Lord Hand would not see me cry.

We stood there in silence for a minute, and even though he couldn’t see my eyes, he could obviously tell that he had hurt me. He decided he might as well put the nail in the coffin.

“You really still are that naive and foolish girl from all those years ago, aren’t you-“

As I heard Lord Tywin say it, my hurt suddenly turned into fury. How dare he behave like this? I couldn’t contain myself anymore, even if I’d wanted to.

Though my left hand was holding the ring in it, my right hand was completely free. I slapped Tywin Lannister across the face with all the strength I had in me. My hand was stinging, and he let out a choked noise as I did it. His cheek already looked flushed, and I was rather satisfied with it.

Though, my satisfaction did not last long. Lord Tywin’s eyes filled with hot rage, and he gripped my forearms before pulling me into him harshly. I was pressed up against him, glaring up at him with defiance.

“I will not hit you, Lady Tyrell, but be careful,” he warned, tone low and threatening. My chest was heaving, and so was his.

“It won’t be a problem, Lord Hand. I never wish to speak to you again, civilly or otherwise.” I broke free of his grasp, giving him one last glare and turning my back to him. I made my way out of the room in silence, and only once the door had shut behind me did I permit myself to cry.

—————

Lord Tywin sighed, slumping back in his chair and gripping the arms of it. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the guilt that was chewing away at him. Gods, why had he said all that to you?

His cheek still stung, but he was not bitter. He had pushed you so far you’d felt the need to do that, and that hurt more than any physical pain he was experiencing. And truthfully, he couldn’t stand the lack of weight on his left hand.

“Stupid…” he muttered to himself, sitting up straight again and attempting to return to writing letters. He reached for the quill you’d left on the opposite side of the table, his lips pressing together as he dipped the tip of it into his inkwell. He needed to get his mind off of you, that was all.

The Lord Hand began scratching down words on his parchment, but he got no farther than a sentence. He could not get the image of you out of his head. The way you’d frozen when he’d insulted you in the Great Hall, the way your head had refused to lift when he’d given you back the ring. It was gut wrenching.

He could only scowl to himself, pushing his chair back with such force that it scraped against the stone floor and created an extremely unpleasant noise. Lord Tywin stood, going over to the cabinet at the side of the room to pour himself a cup of wine. He downed it much quicker than he normally would’ve.

Gods, he shouldn’t have grabbed you the way he did. He shouldn’t have said any of what he had. But this was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? To drive you away? He reflected that it had been a simple concept to consider, but now that you truly didn’t wish to speak with him, it hurt so much more than he’d ever imagined.

The sound of thunder distracted him from his thoughts, and it made him flinch. He hadn’t even realized that it was raining outside, if he was honest. Going over to the window, though, he realized he could smell it. He couldn’t recall the last time it had rained in King’s Landing.

No, Lord Tywin could not bear this. No amount of time or distraction would solve this aching. He needed to speak with you, even if you yelled and hit him. He didn’t care; you looked beautiful when you were angry. Perhaps that was what had caused this… affection to form. He did not like that he couldn’t control it.

Firm in his decision, the Old Lion found himself exiting his office and rushing down the stairs in the Tower of the Hand much faster than he probably should’ve been. He couldn’t have cared less, though. All that mattered to him was clearing things up. What if you couldn’t forgive him?

He pushed these thoughts away, walking through the Red Keep with an unmatched pace. His only objective was to reach your room, it did not matter who he passed by. He would speak to you if it was the last thing he did.

“I’d like to speak to Lady (Y/N),” he said to Ser Elias, having arrived at your door and seeing the abnormally tall man standing in front of it. The knight only shook his head.

“She’s gone out, my lord. She- She went to the stables in quite a rush,” he explained to Lord Tywin, making the older man raise an eyebrow and tilt his head.

“And you did not go with her?” He questioned, perhaps glad that he hadn’t but simultaneously furious that you intended to go out and had no protection. Was this knight the stupidest man in all seven kingdoms?

“I- I attempted to convince her, my lord, but she did not want me. I fear she- she requires some time alone,” Ser Elias answered with embarrassment, knowing that he ought to have done more convincing than he actually did. You were sobbing, who was he to argue with you and make it worse? He regretted it now, though.

“And you’re certain she went out? Do not lie to me, Ser,” the Lord Hand warned, trying to make sure that the knight wasn’t merely covering for you.

“Yes, my lord, she did. You may take my tongue if I'm lying,” he replied, to which the Old Lion nodded. Though, he suddenly realized that you were going out in the rain. Gods, he had to go find you. He did not want you to get sick.

Lord Tywin glared at the taller man in front of him before rushing away, needing to get to the stables as soon as he possibly could. The rain had begun to come down quite hard, and if you had been eager to go out you would still be in the dress you’d been wearing all day, and that was not suitable attire for rain like this. According to many ladies at court, it was not suitable attire for anything. Well, perhaps it worked in one situation.

When the Lord Hand reached the stables, he was practically breathless, and yet he was shouting at the men there to saddle his horse as quickly as possible. They did so, and one of them offered him a cloak for the rain. He considered turning it down, but he figured it might be useful to wrap you in the thing once he found you.

As he mounted his horse and began riding through King’s Landing, he realized there was that problem too. You could be anywhere in the city or in the Kingswood, how was he to figure such a thing out? He tried to recall if you’d ever mentioned anything, perhaps a certain spot that you enjoyed. Thankfully, it did not take long for one idea to come to him. He just had to pray that you were actually where he thought you were.

The rain was a heavy downpour as he made his way through the city, and Lord Tywin felt awful. Had it not been for him, you would not have felt the need to ride out here in such weather to begin with. He was thankfully rather protected by his tall boots and his leather coat, but his hair was drenched. He could not even begin to imagine the state you were in.

The Old Lion was riding as hard as his horse would let him, especially now that he had reached the Kingswood. He was searching desperately, trying to find the location he suspected you would be. His eyes were constantly going back and forth in an attempt to find any sign of you as quickly as he could. Even despite the tree cover, the rain was still coming through with a violence.

The sudden neighing of a horse caught his attention, and he worked his way toward it as precisely as possible. The sound of thunder was quite prominent, and he found himself stopping for minutes at a time to listen for anything besides that.

Eventually, however, he found your horse tied to a tree. Right beside it was a much larger one, and he instantly recognized it as the one you’d tried to climb when the two of you had gone hunting.

Lord Tywin pulled on his reins, stopping his horse and holding a hand above his eyes to block the downpour. He squinted as he looked up toward the tree’s branches, and he let out a sigh of relief once he did. Just as he had suspected, there you were, nestled among the tree’s branches. Thank the gods, you were safe. Now all he had to do was speak with you.

—————

I couldn’t recall how long I’d been sitting in this damned tree. From the moment I’d left the Tower of the Hand, I had begun to dissociate. All I knew was that I needed to be away, and this had seemed the most natural place to come, even despite the rain.

Speaking of which, I was utterly drenched. My dress was soaked, and so was my hair, and yet somehow I did not mind that half as much as I minded the emotional turmoil I was experiencing. It was unbelievably frustrating to feel this way, especially over Tywin Lannister.

It was so degrading, for I’d despised the man for so long and the second that I’d dared to let myself feel anything other than hatred for him, he’d decided to do this. The worst part was I had absolutely no clue what had happened, for when we’d gone to the smith together everything had been fine. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to make the Lord Hand so cold to me, and yet he was anyway.

I found myself wiping tears from my eyes even though I shouldn’t have bothered, as the rain was ten times worse. I could taste them in my throat, and I loathed it. Surely this man was not worth crying over, so why was I? He was rude, overly confident, and the most immoral person I’d ever met. I felt pathetic, and I wanted the tears to stop more than anything. They just wouldn’t.

“Lady (Y/N)!”

I felt a chill run up my spine at the sound of my name, and when I moved my head over to look down, I found the Lord Hand on his horse. He was at the base of the tree, looking up at me with his hand above his eyes to keep the rain off of them. The sight of him was somehow both relieving and infuriating. I did not want to speak with him, but he’d come for me even in the pouring rain.

That didn’t mean I was letting him off the hook, however, and after setting my eyes upon him I instantly turned my head the other way. I had told him I didn’t wish to speak with him and I meant it.

“Lady (Y/N) I- I wish to explain myself!” Lord Tywin shouted up at me, trying to make sure that he was audible over the annoyingly loud rain. I had no intention whatsoever to let him know that I could hear him.

“I have- I have been cold to you these last two weeks, I am not going to feign ignorance. I’ve made excuses as to why I cannot speak with you, and I have actively avoided you. You did not deserve that treatment, and you most certainly did not deserve the things that I did and said today,” he said, straining his voice and pausing in between sentences to think through everything he was saying. He almost sounded breathless, and it struck me as odd.

“I was cruel, and I cannot blame you for your anger. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. You- You have gone against your better judgment in associating with me, for I know that I make it quite hard. I’m simply… I’m hesitant, Lady (Y/N),” Lord Tywin continued, and I could sense a certain desperation in his voice. I finally allowed myself to look over at him, and though I could not see him particularly well from the top of the tree, I could certainly see that he truly meant what he was saying. “The last true friend I had was the late King Aerys, and he betrayed my trust in every way imaginable. And you… you already harbor quite a lot of negative feelings toward me, so when you gave me the ring, I- I became afraid. I did not want to permit myself to be hurt if you should suddenly regret tolerating me.”

“So you decided that pushing me away was the best option?” I scowled suddenly, no longer capable of holding in my anger as I turned to face him. Did he really think that his little ‘explanation’ was going to make me forgive him?

“Yes, that is exactly what I decided. And I understand that it was foolish and selfish of me, that is why I am here. I initially believed that- that if I simply pushed you away now it would not hurt me, but the second that you left my office, Lady (Y/N)… even the second that you left the great hall, I understood the gravity of- of my feelings,” he said, grappling with his reins as a sudden clap of thunder startled the animal beneath him. I could only stare at him.

“Your feelings?”

“Yes, my feelings. I desire your friendship, let me be clear about that. Even if I- Even if I believed it was best to push you away, it is not what I wanted. You are infuriating, Lady (Y/N), and I crave it. You yell at me, you lecture me, and then you take my arm all the same. You’re a challenge, and it is invigorating. No matter how many gifts I buy, or how many compliments I give, you’re never complacent. You have made me work not just for your companionship, but simply for the right to be tolerated, so much so that I now yearn for it,” Lord Tywin replied, removing his hand from above his eyes so that I might actually see them. He ran it through his dripping hair instead, slicking it back and blinking hard as the rain came down. I could see the water running down his face, and I pondered that I was like a maiden in a song or a story. Though, Lord Tywin was not my lover, nor was he making a love confession. And unlike those maidens, I still found myself somewhat upset.

“And what happens once you tire of this ‘challenge’, my lord? Why, besides that, do you want my friendship? Because as far as I am concerned, you currently have no problem rejecting my offering of it,” I pointed out, similarly moving the wet hair out of my face. The odds of me being sick tomorrow were almost certainly 100.

Lord Tywin blinked a few more times, wiping the water from his face with his hand and swallowing. He sighed out then, looking down for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “Because despite my insults, you are incredibly intelligent, not to mention kind—at least when you’re not angry. But more than that, you… you make me smile… and laugh… and I am not known for doing either of those things. I understand that when you granted me that ring, it was not simply an object, but an offering of your friendship. And I- I sincerely regret turning such a thing down. That is why I am here, Lady (Y/N). I am here because I need your friendship, and I am- I am sorry…”

Even despite the rain, I could see that the Great Lion was looking at me with the utmost fondness in his eyes, and I felt my breath catching in my throat as I processed what he was saying. My head did not want to forgive him, but my heart was tugging at me, perhaps even begging me to.

Because I could not betray either of them, I simply stared at Lord Tywin. In all honesty, I hadn’t a clue what I would say even if I felt capable of speaking. The Hand of the King continued to gaze up at me, and when he realized that I had no intention to say anything, he said the only thing that was left to say.

“Lady (Y/N), please come down. You’re- You’re going to get sick.”

Although I could not reply, I certainly could do this. Even I had to admit that the feeling of being continually stuck in the rain like this was growing uncomfortable. Gods, the ride back to the Red Keep was going to be awful.

Carefully, I adjusted my grip on the tree and began to move my legs over to the side. Lord Tywin knew that I intended to come down, and naturally dismounted his horse to make sure that I was safe as I did.

I held onto the different branches and crevices of the giant tree, and slowly began to work my way down it. The bark was rough and damp against my palms, but I felt sure footed even despite that. I made relatively quick work of it, and once I was close enough to the ground I simply jumped down.

I had not accounted for how slippery the leaves would be, however, and so as I hit the dirt I stumbled forward a bit and fell straight into Lord Tywin’s arms. He gripped me firmly, holding just below my shoulders and helping me stand up straight.

“Are you alright?” he asked, making sure I hadn’t accidentally messed up an ankle or something. I looked up at him, swallowing and then nodding in response to his question. He let go of me then, moving over to his horse and removing a cloak from his saddlebag. “Here, you’re absolutely drenched. We’ll go to the inn down the road, the Red Keep is too far for us to get to in this weather. I’m certain at least one soldier will give up his room for the right amount of gold.”

Lord Tywin wrapped the thing around me, rubbing my arms to warm me up and then placing the hood over my head. I had only now realized that I was shivering. He directed me over to my horse, helping me on before mounting his own animal.

He looked at me once more, trying to make sure that I intended to follow him. When I gave him a nod, he spurred his horse and instantly started toward the nearby road. I started after him, eager to get anywhere that wasn’t outside in this wretched rain.

After about five minutes of hard riding, we thankfully came across the inn that he intended to stay in for the night. It suddenly hit me that Tywin Lannister intended to sleep here. I supposed there were a few nicer rooms, but still, it was hardly comparable to anything in the Red Keep or at Casterly Rock. Then again, he’d had no problem spending the night outside before.

I watched him approach a post then, dismounting and tying his horse to it. I did the same, though I was shivering so aggressively that it took me a moment to actually knot the reins. Lord Tywin was waiting for me, and I could see in his eyes that he was concerned for my health. I was certain it would be fine, I just needed to get warm. Now all that was left to do was pray that Lord Tywin and I could acquire two rooms, though somehow, I had a dreadful feeling that we’d end up stuck in one.

TAGLIST:

@cheyxfu @lemonscoffee @groovy-lady

@ladysindar @vesta-ro @exo-nova @paola-carter

@prettykinkysoul

@fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8

@the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice

@muscari-fae @lostgirllulu

@abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart

@frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666

@thanyatargaryen @rey26 @hexandale @pkawaiidesu5394 @aimsro @gbatesx @lockleysgrl

#tywin lannister x reader #tywin imagine #tywin lannister #house lannister #tywin x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #asoiaf #a lion in the garden

248 notes · View notes

theoddcatlady · 5 months

Text

You or Him?

I got the worst news of my life on my lunch break six months ago. I was feeling pretty good about myself, I'd received high praise from my boss and I felt like a promotion was coming my way any time. I turned my phone back on to see six missed calls from my wife and a voice message telling me that I needed to come to the hospital right now.

Cara had been home from work that day with a headache. Just a headache, she told me that morning, she would be fine after some rest and I shouldn’t worry about her.

Someone had broken into the house and beaten her within an inch of her life.

Seeing her in that hospital bed nearly killed me. I couldn't even recognize her with how bruised and swollen her face was. She had several broken ribs, a concussion, several lacerations on her back and chest. The worst of it was her hands. The bastard had repeatedly stomped on them and shattered each of her fingers with an alarming precision.

My wife is… was an artist. Even with physical therapy she might never have the finesse she once possessed.

At first I just thought it was luck Cara was still alive. But much to my horror, that… that animal had left her alive on purpose.

You can't suffer if you're dead, after all.

Cara went from a vibrant, optimistic person to a shell. A shell filled with pain and terror that knew that the bastard that hurt her wasn't going away just like that, and that he wasn't human.

The doctors told me it was trauma that made Cara believe that her attacker was a monster, almost eight feet tall with claws like swords and red glowing eyes. I, of course, believed them because monsters aren't real. Cara's mind just made her believe it was. I think she doubted herself a long time before the monster came back.

I never saw it, of course. But a few months later, after most of the bruises had faded and bones started to heal, Cara called me begging me to come home as ‘he was there’. I dialed 911 on the way, assuming that the guy was like right outside our door. I got there just when they did and we found Cara cowering in the closet, pointing quietly at a set of scratch marks on our bedroom wall.

She hadn’t seen anyone. Just the scratches.

Thankfully the police were more than understanding, given what Cara had just gone through. I wasn’t upset either, she’d been through a serious trauma and it would take time for her to get over it.

It wouldn’t take much for Cara to be set off. A new scuff mark on the floor, things going missing or seemingly being moved… one time I had to come home from work because Cara swore she heard something move in the basement. Turns out a couple of old boxes had toppled over, nothing more.

It was hard not getting upset with her after a while. But, and I don’t know how, I managed to keep my temper in check. I’d remind myself that she had gone through something so horrible that she’d not be able to live in peace for a long time.

The closest I came to actually losing it was the same day I found out Cara’s monster was real.

It’d been a bad day for her. She’d left her keys in the bedroom rather than by the door so she assumed that ‘the monster’ had moved them and had a meltdown over that, physical therapy had gone terribly, and it all came to a head when she started screaming about something being in the closet.

I’d had a lousy day myself, my boss was getting upset with me over constantly leaving work early to check on my wife and it was starting to feel ridiculous, coming home just to find that that she’d lost her slippers.

Gritting my teeth, I remember ripping open the door, about to shout that there was nothing there when I saw it crawl back into the attic.

I don’t think it had intended on getting caught quite yet. I only saw a piece of its inky, scaled hide and a curled tail before it zipped out of sight. If I’d been a second later, I wouldn’t have seen it at all.

I tore apart that attic looking for that son of a bitch and didn’t find a trace of him, except for a few more scratch marks in the dust. I probably spent hours going over every inch of our house to find it and found nothing.

I spent the rest of the night begging my wife’s forgiveness for not believing in her. Bless her, she forgave me.

Now that I knew that the threat was real though, everything seemed to get so much worse. It stopped being so subtle. I catch glimpses of it around the corner, only to run over and not see a thing. Once I saw its tail whisk into the kitchen where my wife was and I nearly had a heart attack as I screamed for her to run. She did run, but the creature wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. It was back to being just an imaginary monster.

Before you ask, yes, we’ve tried everything I could think of. We stayed in hotels. We’re trying to buy a new house. I bought a gun and so did she. It doesn’t help. The thing’s too quick to get a shot off at and it follows us wherever we go, leaving scratches and hiding underneath beds until we get close enough for it to snatch at our ankles. And the house hunting is going as well as you’d expect with a single income household.

I did all I could think of. Cara had one more option though. One she’d never told me before last night.

It was after three days of complete nothing. No scratches, no sounds, no sightings. But Cara seemed worse off than ever. After pressing her, she finally broke and told me the truth.

The creature spoke to her. Before that first attack it gave her a choice once it had her cornered.

“You or him?”

Cara loves me. She would’ve never thrown me to the creature back then.

But that was almost six months ago, before weeks of pain, torment, and paranoia. So three days ago she finally broke when it once again asked ‘You or him?’. She told it it could have me now.

I’m not upset with her. I know I should be livid, but this is the only way Cara can have some semblance of normalcy again. No more fear. Not again.

I’m on the run, I’ve left Cara at home with what’s left of our savings and quit my job. Distance won’t deter the creature, I know it won’t. But I have to try.

I don’t want to know what it’ll do to me once it catches up.

#my stories

53 notes · View notes

captainlilyuniverseworld · 4 months

Note

if i might make a bloodweave request? astarion's reaction to orin kidnapping gale? either the discovery being in the barn, when orin as gale starts talking about destroying baldur's gate with the orb; or in the sewers, when orin as gale talks about orin cutting pieces of him off? up to you!

Hi Anon,

I had Lae'zel kidnapped in my playthrough so I wasn't super familiar with Gale's version of being kidnapped so watched a couple youtube vids to get an idea of how it'd go. the story kinda got away from me lol. (also plan on writing a part two to this)

Hope you like the way it turned out ❤️

Spoilers for Act 3 of Baldur's Gate 3 under the cut

Pairing: Astarion/Gale

Kidnapped

Gale hummed under his breath as he carried his bundle of books back towards camp. Sorcerus Sundries had been better than expected. They’d found the book on Karsus, after some light breaking and entering, and he blew his expectations.

Between the Crown of Karsus and the orb in his chest, he could repair the Karus weave. Become its conductor. The power he could wield. It was enough to make him dizzy.

He rounded the corner and let out a soft oomph as he collided with someone and dropped his books on the ground.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” the young woman knelt down and began to help him. “If it weren’t my spectacles, I’d really be blind as a bat.”

He chuckled. “No harm done miss. I suppose I had my head in the clouds so to speak.” He gathered his books back up. “Goodness, that’s quite a bounty you have there. Do you need a hand?”

“You’re kind to offer, but I wouldn’t want to put you out,” she replied.

“It’s no trouble at all,” he smiled. Besides, Astarion won’t mind if I’m a little late.

“Well,” she looked at him from under her lashes. “If you insist.”

***

Astarion stretched as he made his way back to camp and spotted Gale standing by the campfire near the barn. He had his arms crossed over his chest and seemed deep in thought over something.

“Careful, I can practically see the wheels turning in that head of yours,” Astarion joked as he joined him.

“Hmm? Ah forgive me, seems I got lost in my thoughts as usual,” Gale chuckled softly. “Do you perhaps have a moment?”

“For you darling, I’ve got two,” Astarion sat on one of the bales of hay that doubled as a makeshift bed and leaned back on his hands.

Gale smiled a bit. “I was hoping I might consult your opinion on something.”

“Really?” Astarion raised an eyebrow. “You hardly consult anyone for anything. And if you do, its yourself.”

“I do value your opinion, I suppose, but, you understand certain things from my perspective more than anyone. And I thought you might be able to help me come to a good conclusion,” Gale replied.

“Alright,” Astarion nodded. “What seems to be troubling you then?” He sat up giving the wizard his full attention.

“I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened to us so far. Killing Kethric Thorm, fighting a literal incarnation of a death god..the army being unleashed on Baldur’s Gate, the netherbrain…”

Astarion nodded. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I don’t know if I would have believed it myself.”

“It occurred to me that, most, if not all of this could have been avoided if we, if I, had done what Mystra tasked me with. We’ve been so busy trying to find ways around the hard choices that need to be made and I can’t help but wonder if we’re part of the problem...feeding the suffering going on, and I, I wonder if it might be best if I reconsider Mystra’s offer, her gift so to speak.”

Astarion snorted and laughed. “Oh, oh that is funny. Really you…you,” his laughter died off and he cleared his throat. “You’re…”

Gale wasn’t laughing. In fact he seemed uncharacteristically calm.

“You’re joking right?” Astarion stood up and walked over to him. “You really can’t mean that.’

“I do,” Gale nodded. “Kethric, Gortash, Orin. They were all right there. I could have, I could’ve ended things, ended it all right there. Or when we met Gortash. The Orb is powerful enough to do that. Kill the Absolute.”

“And gotten us blown up in the process?” Astarion asked. “For that matter, the entirety of Baldur’s Gate?”

“Perhaps that would have been for the best. What has Baldur’s Gate done for any of us? Wyll’s father all but disowned him for saving the city the first time. And what has the city done for you? Think about it Astarion, The orb is powerful enough that it could kill Cazador. Imagine how that would feel.”

“I wouldn’t feel a damned thing if we all get blown up with you,” Astarion replied.

Astarion curled his hands into his fists. This wasn’t like Gale. Sure the wizard had extreme ideas from time to time. That is what the vampire liked most about him. Thirst for knowledge, thirst for power.

“I would make sure you were far enough away,” Gale stepped towards him. “You and the others before doing it. I could kill the Absolute and destroy Baldur’s gate. A clean sweep. A clean slate. Maybe that’s what Mystra intended all along. For me, for the city.”

“What about the crown?” Astarion replied. “What about the fact that we broke into a secret library vault for the very thing you talked about nonstop since we killed Kethric Thorm?”

Gale shrugged. “What about it? It was a fool's errand. Something to prolong the inevitable.” He shook his head. “Even if I do nothing, and leave the orb, it will consume me one day. It is not healed, it is merely placated. I honestly do not know what keeps from doing it anyway. My own hunger for power, some selfish need to prove my worth to Mystra some other way. You?”

Gale sounded so broken, so defeated. So different then he had when they’d survived Moonrise Towers. Vibrant and full of life. Excited.

“If I’m being honest, it’s a little surreal being here right now,” Gale drank some of his wine. “Here with you. Here alive. I was so stuck on doing whatever Mystra wanted that I forgot what it was like to enjoy some of the best things life has to offer.”

“Oh? And what might those things be?” Astarion asked.

“A good book, a good glass of wine,” he looked at Astarion. “Exceptional company.”

“Exceptional company hmm?” Astarion smiled.

He shook his head.

“This isn’t you Gale. The man I,” care about, “the man I know wouldn’t be thinking these things. I’m supposed to be the only cynic of this group. We’ve no room for two, so you are going to stop being an idiot and we’ll pretend we never had this conversation.”

“Oh so gentle,” Gale moved to walk a circle around him. “You think saving him now will stop the bloodshed later? It won’t.”

Astarion stepped back watching Gale’s body contort, hearing his bones break and crack before a plum of dust revealed Orin standing before him. She grinned. He reached for the dagger tucked in the back of his pants and tensed as she reached for him, her nails barely caressing cheek.

“Now now little piggy, Orin will take care of you. And your little pet,” she cooed.

“What have you done with Gale?” he narrowed his eyes.

“Oh nothing, nothing,” she mused. “He’s gasping and gagging on the airs of Bhaals Temple. But I will not cut, his kind dies too quickly and the murder god demand’s a better sacrifice.” She sighed forlorn. “But he sings so sweetly for you little piggy, shudders when he sees my bland...Maybe I’ll take just a finger or two. He doesn’t need them all does he?”

Astarion felt his stomach twisting. “If you touch one hair on him I will carve that face you think is oh so pretty.”

He leaned in close, the blade of his dagger dangerously close to her face.

“Promise promises,” she crooned. “Your little wizard is…safe, for now. But if you do not kill Gortash and bring me his netherstone, I’ll bring you its heart instead.”

Astarion sagged against the barn wall as Orin disappeared. His fingers gripped the dagger in his hand tightly. He felt sick to his stomach. How long had she been in their camp? How did they not notice, how did he not notice?

“Astarion, whoa shit hey, it’s just me,” Wyll held his hands up as Astarion turned on his heel, dagger ready.

“I, apologies,” Astarion cleared his throat and lowered the dagger. “I thought you were Orin.”

“Orin?” Wyll straightened, hand going to the short sword at his hip. “She was here?”

Astarion nodded. “She kidnapped Gale, and has him held in Bhaal’s temple.”

“Well shit, what are we waiting for?” Wyll asked. “We need to get everyone, get everything together and go-”

“And storm in there?” Astarion interrupted. “That’s the very thing she’ll be expecting us to do.”

As much as he agreed with Wyll’s idea, barging into the temple of Bhaal would have been the dumbest thing they could do in this situation.

He shook his head. “No, we, we have to be strategic about this…” And hope that Gale can hold out that long.

***

Astarion ran to the altar Gale was tied, Orin slain and her blood spilled on the floor. He used his daggers to cut the bonds, and wiped the blood from Gale’s face.

“Gale? Gale?” he searched him for any signs of injury. Brushed his hair back from his face before taking his chin in his hand.

Even though he didn’t need to breathe, he felt his chest hammering.

“For fucks sake Gale of Waterdeep if you do not answer me this instant I’m going to burn every book in your tent, with your own wine.”

“Hea…heard you the first time,” Gale coughed and blinked, opening his eyes to look up at Astarion. “You’re holding my face really hard.”

Astarion exhaled slowly and let go of his chin. “Sorry...I thought I could never be scared again, but then Orin showed up pretending to be you and I just…” he ran a hand through his hair. “Are you alright?”

Gale winced as he sat up. “Aside from thinking twice the next time I offer to help someone, no worse for wear I think. And if we never come back here again. That would suit me just fine.”

He climbed down from the altar and rubbed his wrist as they joined the others. If anyone noticed Astarion standing far too close to Gale than normal, or touching him. His arm, his shoulder, a hand on his lower back as they made their way out of the temple no one made any comment.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale x astarion #gale of waterdeep #astarion #astarion ancunin #game spoilers #fic request #act 3 spoilers

23 notes · View notes